Every Little Breath: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

Thirteen Years Later

It’s not you, it’s me.

I just need some space.

We’re on different paths right now.

We can still be friends.

Urgh!

Casey replayed her lunch date with Marcus in her head, cringing at the clichéd words that had come out of her mouth.

This wasn’t the first time she had dumped someone, and truthfully, it probably wouldn’t be the last, so why did she keep on repeating the same old tired excuses?

The relationship had followed her usual pattern. They had started seeing each other on a casual basis, plenty of sex, commitment-free, but then somehow they had slipped into dating and the next thing she knew, Marcus was wanting to take her on a family holiday and she could tell he was thinking about their future together.

That was the bit that always scared her silly. The meeting with the potential in-laws. It had been that way since Gareth, and now she instinctively backed away from any kind of commitment.

Marcus had been shell-shocked, so much so he had barely protested as Casey had babbled her way through her break-up speech, not giving him room to interrupt. History told her, of course, that he would make contact again when he had thought things through, try to talk her round.

She would be ready for him though, wouldn’t let herself be persuaded to give things another go. Already she felt lighter, freer. What was it with the clingy blokes she seemed to attract? Surely the idea of no-strings-attached fun would appeal to most men?

Trying to push the uncomfortable encounter to the back of her mind, she finished taping up the box containing carefully bubble-wrapped plates and mugs, labelled the contents with a bold black marker pen, then got up, stretching her aching muscles. Another two boxes and the kitchen should be packed, ready for her move tomorrow.

A fresh start in a new home, a fresh start without Marcus.

Her first niggle that he was taking things more seriously than she was had come just after she first viewed the apartment. Casey had mentioned it in passing when they were out for dinner the following evening and Marcus had seemed surprised, a little put out even, that she was looking to buy somewhere without factoring him into the decision.

They had been seeing each other casually for less than six months and it freaked her out that he was actually thinking about them living together.

It wasn’t going to happen. Casey liked her space. Just her and Phoebe. No arguing over what to watch on TV, no having to take someone else into account when deciding what to eat, no one else’s mess cluttering up her home.

Her best friends, Zoe and Ricky, called her a commitment-phobe. Casey didn’t care what it made her. She was happy with her own company, didn’t relish sharing her private space with anyone else.

Up until now she had always rented, unable to afford to get on the property ladder, but a financial gift from her parents when they had a crazy idea to sell their house, buy a boat and travel the world, plus years of hard saving had finally given her the deposit needed for her own place. She was moving out of the city, but only a few miles, having bought an apartment in the Broads village of Coltishall, much to Zoe’s annoyance, her friend complaining it was too far away.

It would be fine. Okay, so she would be a fifteen-minute drive away, instead of one street, but Zoe was busy with her own family anyway; a loving husband and adorable twin girls, while Coltishall was closer to the radio station where Casey had recently taken over the late show. The drive to Mundesley would now take half the time, something that was important to her when she had to travel back four nights a week, in the early hours of the morning on deserted roads.

As she worked on filling the next box, she heard the patter of feet on the wooden hall floor, knew that Phoebe was on her way through to remind her it was almost time for her evening walk. The beagle entered the kitchen with a whine, dropping down beside where Casey was sat cross-legged on the floor, and pushing her nose into her hand when she wasn’t given immediate attention.

‘Okay, we’ll go in a minute. Just let me finish doing this.’

Phoebe cocked her head, brown eyes doleful. As though understanding, she got up and slunk off to her bed in the corner of the kitchen, eyes never leaving Casey as she watched her finish packing the box.

Casey glanced at her watch, saw it was gone seven thirty. She hadn’t realised quite how late it was and she needed to take Phoebe out before her brother arrived. Despite now living in Cornwall, Liam had insisted on driving up to Norfolk and helping her move.

Phoebe’s head shot up expectantly as she got to her feet and Casey winced at the stab of guilt.

They normally went out much earlier than this and tonight’s walk was going to be shorter than normal as it was.

‘Go get your lead, Pheebs.’

As they walked down the old railway track footpath that ran along behind Casey’s block of flats, she consoled herself that come tomorrow, Phoebe would have a whole new adventure ahead of her, with far more interesting walks to go on, plus a bigger apartment, because that’s what it was called, it was too grand to be a flat, with a generous balcony to enjoy.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket and she reached for it, saw Liam’s name flashing up on the screen.

‘Hey you.’

‘You all packed yet?’

‘Almost. What time do you think you’ll get here?’

There was a brief pause. ‘Not for at least another hour.’

Casey’s belly rumbled, reminding her she had barely eaten. Despite having lunch with Marcus, she had only picked at her food, too anxious about getting the break-up out of the way. With most of her belongings packed, she would get takeout, but should wait for her brother to arrive. ‘I’m just out with Phoebe, but I’ll order some food when I get back. What do you fancy?’

‘Pizza’s probably easiest.’ There was another pause. ‘Where are you walking? You’re not out on the railway footpath, are you?’

‘No,’ Casey lied, knowing he would have a shit fit if he found out she was. ‘Of course not.’

Although central to the city, the footpath was overgrown and secluded, giving the illusion of being out in the countryside. Casey walked the route often, but Liam was convinced it wasn’t safe, and he had tried to lay down the law, forbidding her from walking it alone, which was ridiculous, because she was a thirty-four-year-old woman who didn’t answer to her overprotective brother. So she did what anyone would do in her position and told him to butt out.

Well, actually, she had agreed, but purely to keep the peace, then continued to walk the path most days anyway. What Liam didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him and it wasn’t worth the argument. Besides, it was the last time. Tomorrow she would be finding new routes to walk, as she explored the village she had chosen to be her new home.

Changing the subject, she checked what Liam wanted on his pizza, then, through gritted teeth, asked after Anoushka, her brother’s current, much younger, girlfriend.

Casey had met her just the once, hadn’t warmed to her at all. She had been invited up with Liam on several occasions, but always declined the invitation, preferring to hang out with her surfing pals.

As she listened to him apologise again that Anoushka hadn’t been free to come help with the move, but that she was really looking forward to catching up soon, Casey rolled her eyes, her attention moving to Phoebe when the dog started barking and straining on her lead.

‘Is that Phoebe barking? Is everything okay?’

‘Yeah, fine. It’s probably just a squirrel or something.’

Or not. Phoebe was pulling towards a cluster of bushes and her barking had turned to a growl.

‘Look, Liam, I need to go figure out what’s rattling her. I’ll see you when you get here, okay?’

Ending the call, she slipped her phone back in her pocket and tried to retract Phoebe’s lead. She had it fully extended while they walked along the footpath and hurried to catch the little dog up when she refused to budge.

What the hell had got her attention? Surely a squirrel or rabbit would have scarpered by now?

‘Phoebe!’

As Casey approached the thicket, the growling intensified and Phoebe let out a series of warning barks. For the first time, Casey was aware she was all alone on the path, and, despite the warmth of the July evening, she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She had never been nervous on the footpath before, chided herself for being stupid, but part of her wished a cyclist or another dog walker would appear.

When she spotted the jean-clad leg poking out from behind the bush, she understood what Phoebe was barking at, and she froze.

Her first thought was that it was someone hiding, waiting to attack her as she walked past, but then she realised that whoever it was wasn’t moving.

Shit! Was he dead? She was fairly certain it was a he judging by the size of the filthy trainer.

Part of her wanted to grab Phoebe and head back the way they had just come, get the hell out of there, but that was irresponsible. She couldn’t just leave.

What if he really was dead or badly hurt? She had to check.

Gingerly, she stepped closer, willing Phoebe to quit with the barking, her eyes not straying from the unmoving leg. As she edged round the bush she saw and smelt the rest of him. Unkempt beard, scruffy T-shirt, the discarded litre bottle of cider on the ground beside him. He appeared to be alive. Casey was sure she could detect the rise and fall of his chest, even if he was managing to sleep through Phoebe’s barking fit.

Still, she took another step closer to be sure, nose wrinkling at the stench of stale cider.

When he let out a sound that was somewhere between a snore and a snort, spluttering as his head jerked forward and his eyes shot open, she took a jerky step back, almost tripping over Phoebe’s lead.

‘What the fuck d’you want?’

Although the words were slurred, Casey could just about make out the question.

‘I was just checking you are okay.’

His eyes were a pale blue and heated with anger at having his sleep disturbed, as he sat himself up. When Phoebe let out a fresh growl, he stabbed a dirty finger in her direction, his face screwed up in a scowl.

‘Nosey bitch. Leave me the hell alone an’ take that fuckin’ mutt with you.’

His ungrateful reaction had her hackles rising, but Casey wasn’t stupid enough to antagonise him. She backed up a couple of steps, keeping an eye on him as she tightened Phoebe’s lead, in case he made any sudden moves (though he was so disgustingly drunk, she doubted he could if he tried), before turning and walking quickly away in the direction from which she had come.

They had only been out for about fifteen minutes and Phoebe’s walk would be cut short, but Casey would make it up to her tomorrow.

Typical that her one ugly encounter on the railway footpath had happened on her last night. Liam would go nuts if he ever found out.

Her heartbeat didn’t slow until they passed under the bridge, were back in view of the neighbouring houses and supermarket. As they made their way along the road that led to the turn-off to Casey’s block of flats, a woman appeared on the path ahead of them.

For a moment Casey took no notice, still a little shaken from her encounter with the drunk, but as the woman neared, she glanced up, did a double take, the automatic smile as they went to pass not quite making it to her lips.

For the second time in five minutes, she froze to the spot.

‘Julie.’

She hadn’t meant to say the name aloud, had been so shocked, it had just slipped out.

Gareth’s mother stared back at her.

Although it had been fifteen years since they had seen each other, it seemed more recent, yet also a lifetime ago. Julie’s once dark hair was now lighter, greyer, and harsh lines cut into her mouth and eyes. Even after all this time she looked like she carried the weight of the world on her shoulders and guilt stabbed through Casey, knowing she had caused that.

Julie’s husband was in jail because of her. Gareth was dead because of her.

She had never expected to run into the woman, knew she had moved away. What the hell was she doing back here? And what the fuck was she supposed to say to her?

Yes, what exactly was the etiquette when encountering the wife of the serial killer, who you had helped to put away?

When Julie simply stared at her, an impassive expression on her face, Casey’s brain went into meltdown.

‘How are you?’ she blurted, mentally kicking herself as soon as the words left her mouth.

Why the hell had she asked such a stupid, loaded question?

‘How am I?’ Julie repeated, seeming equally as unsure how to react as she mulled over the words. For a moment her face started to crumple and Casey’s eyes widened, fearful she was going to have to console the woman, then her expression hardened, the lines on her face deepening.

Casey readied herself, certain she was about to get a dose of Julie’s pent-up anger, but instead, the woman scowled at her, raised her chin a notch and pushed past her. Casey watched her go, rooted to the spot, but Julie never looked back.

‘Holy hell.’

She sucked in a breath, annoyed that she was shaking.

On the floor beside her, Phoebe glanced up and whined her discontentment at her thoroughly shit walk.

‘Okay, Pheebs, let’s go home.’

Casey willed her leaden legs to walk, let the dog pull her along.

What a hell of a moment to pick to go out. As far as chance encounters went, this one had blindsided her.

Tomorrow was a fresh start, she reminded herself.

And as she returned to her flat, she really believed that.