Every Little Breath: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

Every Little Breath: Then – Chapter 3



Saturday 24 July 2004 was the day Gareth Noakes’s world came crashing down around him.

It had started much like any other Saturday with a couple of cups of tea and a bacon butty, while he watched a bit of Soccer AM with his dad and brother, then his mum, Julie, had left for the hairdressers, dropping Gareth’s younger brother, Ethan, off at a friend’s, while Gareth had driven to Halfords for new wiper blades. His dad, who had been unwell recently, stayed home to get some more rest.

He was heading back to Strumpshaw, a bag of half-eaten McDonald’s on the seat beside him, excited about Casey finally being home from university and looking forward to seeing her for the first time in weeks, Franz Ferdinand’s ‘Take Me Out’ playing on the radio, when he turned the bend and saw all the flashing lights blocking off the road to his house. It was the last time he would ever be able to stomach McDonald’s or listen to that song.

His first thought was that one of his parents had been involved in an accident, but the stern faces of the police officers blocking the road suggested otherwise. At first they hadn’t told him what was going on. Much later, when his mother had returned, with her new hair and shocked face, and they had been put into the back of a patrol car and taken to a local police station, he learnt why the police were really there.

His first reaction had been shock, his second denial and his third, anger, while the whole time his mother sat and sobbed beside him, feebly repeating his father’s name like it was going to magic him up or something.

At first the questioning had been aggressive. How could Gareth be working on doing up the house with his dad and not be aware of what was going on in the outbuilding? Was he a co-conspirator or had he simply turned a blind eye to his dad’s extracurricular activities?

Eventually the accusations had turned to pity, as the interrogating officers seemed to finally take on board Gareth’s protestations of innocence, accepting that Steve Noakes had been acting alone, and that his wife and son had been woefully unaware.

They weren’t allowed to go home. The family house, along with the place they were fixing up, was a crime scene and, although they weren’t told so much, Gareth had overheard a conversation about digging up the grounds, the police expecting to find the remains of victims.

The thought of that roiled his stomach. This was his dad they had arrested. He still couldn’t believe it had happened.

Steve’s half-brother, Dennis, had taken them in, tight-lipped and furious at the accusations levelled against his sibling, immediately taking charge of the situation and barking orders at everyone. While Julie had sat on the sofa and sobbed as she proclaimed her husband’s innocence, and Ethan cried too, Gareth had remained quiet as he tried to absorb everything, preoccupying himself with his phone. He had hoped to go stay with Casey instead of being stuck at his uncle’s, especially as her parents were away. He had sent her several messages, so why wasn’t she replying?

He barely slept that first night, worried about his dad and what might happen to him, and his anxiety levels going through the roof over Casey. He needed her right now. Why was she ignoring him? Had something happened to her?

When he still hadn’t heard from her the following morning, he headed over to her house, frustration growing when he found the driveway empty and no one answering the door.

That was when the first sliver of doubt crept in. Did Casey already know what had happened?

He found out the answer to that question later that same day when he returned to her house and Casey’s brother, Liam, answered the door, a scowl on his face.

Gareth and Liam had never got on particularly well. Liam was very protective of his sister and thought she could do better in the boyfriend department, but although he had always been cool with Gareth, dismissive even, he had never been outright hostile, as he was now.

‘You have a nerve showing your face here.’

‘What?’ Gareth was taken aback. ‘I just want to see Casey. Is she home?’

‘No, she’s not. And she doesn’t want to see you or your pervert dad ever again.’

‘What do you mean?’

It was a stupid question. He knew exactly what Liam meant. He knew, which meant Casey knew too. But how? It wasn’t public knowledge. Yes, his dad had been arrested, but he hadn’t yet been charged with anything. The only way Casey and Liam could possibly know what had happened is if the police had spoken to them. Or if one of them had been at Gareth’s house.

Dread coiled in his belly, knotting tightly. Had Casey been the one who had called the police?

‘You know exactly what I mean. Don’t play the innocent with me. I always knew there was something bloody dodgy about you. They say the apple never falls far.’

‘It was Casey who called the police.’

It wasn’t a question. Gareth tested out the words, barely daring to believe them as Liam’s dark eyes narrowed, studying him as if he was stupid.

‘Damn right she did. And you need to leave her the fuck alone or you’ll have me to deal with. You understand?’

As though to make his point, Liam took a step forward, fully blocking the doorway.

‘He didn’t do it. There’s been a huge mistake.’

‘He was caught cutting up a woman. How the hell is that a mistake?’

‘It is. My dad wouldn’t do that!’ Gareth’s head was pounding, his forehead sweating. This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t lose both his dad and his girlfriend.

Yesterday morning he had woken up and everything had been normal. A regular Saturday. How could it suddenly go so wrong? How could Casey do this to him, to his dad? Why was she trying to hurt them like this? He needed to see her, to straighten things out.

‘I need to speak with Casey. Is she in there?’

‘She’s not home.’

Gareth didn’t believe him. Although her car wasn’t on the drive, it could be in the garage. He guessed she was hiding upstairs. ‘Casey? Come out here and talk to me, please.’

‘I said she’s not here!’

‘Casey, please. I just want to talk. You’ve made a mistake.’

Desperate, Gareth charged at Liam, trying to move him out of the way, but Casey’s brother grabbed hold of him. When Gareth tried to lash out, Liam’s fist connected with his jaw, Gareth’s teeth snapping together and a blast of white-hot pain sending him staggering backwards. He put both hands to his face in shock.

‘Get off our property and stay the fuck away from my sister.’

‘Please.’

‘Go!’

Gareth’s head was pounding, the metallic taste of blood on his lips. His world was falling apart and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

He needed to speak to Casey and fix this.

The next time he approached the house, he was calmer, smarter, had taken time to think things through, knowing he couldn’t go knock on the door, as Liam would send him packing again. Instead, he parked a distance away, and discreetly watched and waited.

Casey couldn’t stay holed up inside forever.

He soon realised that Liam had been telling the truth, she wasn’t at home, and he wracked his brains, trying to figure out where she might be. He had been texting and calling her relentlessly, but his messages were being ignored and his calls going straight to voicemail.

Her parents were away, so was she perhaps staying with a friend or relative?

He texted her best friend, Zoe O’Farrell. Annoyed when she, too, ignored his message.

She did at least answer the door to him when he showed up at her house, and although she played dumb, claimed not to know what was going on, Gareth could tell she was lying. She might fancy herself as an actress, but it was written all over her face. And the way she half sneered at him, like she couldn’t wait to slam the door on him, pissed him off. He knew she had never liked him. Bitch.

‘I promise you I haven’t seen Casey. She’s not staying here.’

Zoe’s parents were both home, her hulk of a dad loitering nearby, and so Gareth didn’t call her out or try to push her. It was possible that Casey could be staying with her, but her car wasn’t here and he couldn’t waste more time waiting to see if she appeared.

He needed to keep on looking, find out where she was hiding and when he did, he intended on finding out what the hell she was playing at.

‘Maybe I should call him.’

‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Case.’ Natasha was dubious, while Liam was practically flaring his nostrils.

‘That’s definitely not a good idea. I always told you there was something wrong with him.’

‘That’s unfair,’ Casey protested. ‘You can’t blame Gareth for what his dad has done.’

It was true. Casey had heard that the police had questioned him, but not pressed any charges. He had been an innocent in all of this and, if she was honest, it was the crux of why she felt guilty.

Gareth was still her boyfriend, had been for four years. She hadn’t ended things with him, she had just severed contact.

‘I’m telling you, Casey. There’s no way he could have been working on that house and not had a clue what his dad was up to.’

Yes, Liam had been telling her a lot of things since he had shown up at Natasha’s that evening. That was her brother. Loving, loyal and protective, but also hot-headed and opinionated. He wasn’t always right though.

‘Gareth had no reason to go in the outbuilding. He had no idea what his dad was doing in there.’

She shuddered, the image of what she had found still stuck in her head.

Who was the woman? Did Steve know her? Or was she a stranger he had abducted? How long had she been held prisoner in that basement?

It didn’t escape her attention that had she not managed to hide, Steve would have found her and the whole scenario would have played out very differently.

Liam’s retelling of his encounter with Gareth stuck with her long after he had left and she had settled down into the guest bedroom in her aunt’s house.

Natasha only bought quality, a luxury her accountancy job afforded, and the mattress Casey slept on was top of the range, while the bedding was soft and comfortable. Still she had tossed and turned, her sleep, when it eventually came, restless and troubled. Casey knew it was the nightmare of what she had found, fuelled by her guilt at how she had been ignoring Gareth, that woke her. No matter how her brother tried to lay down the law, no matter what the existing problems were with Gareth, she still owed him an explanation.

Reaching for the bedside light, she plumped up the pillows, tried to make herself comfortable as she attempted to compose a text. It was already gone 1am, but sleep was far away. If she messaged Gareth, maybe she would finally settle.

She rewrote the message five times. Just how did you tell your boyfriend that you could no longer see him because you had discovered his dad torturing a woman?

She thought back to the man she had often sat around the dinner table with, how she had gone to football matches with Steve and Gareth. The times she had been alone with Steve. She had never felt unsafe, had trusted him implicitly because he was Gareth’s dad. Good old jovial Steve. How could he have this side to him? How could she have never known?

Blinking, her eyes heavy, needing sleep that wouldn’t come, she read over her words.

I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch. You probably know by now that I was the one who found your dad with that girl, and honestly I don’t quite know how to deal with that or with us. I know I am being a coward breaking up with you by text, but I can’t see you anymore with everything that is going on. I really am sorry that things have to end this way. Casey. xxx

She debated over the kisses, deleted them, and pressed send. Her text was lame, but what the hell else could she say?

Before she could put the phone down, it started vibrating in her hand, Gareth’s name flashing up on the screen. Casey dropped it on the bed, watched it ring, wide-eyed.

She couldn’t speak to him. Composing the text had been difficult enough. What was she supposed to say? She knew he would be so angry with her.

This was stupid. He had been her boyfriend for four years. They had gone on holiday together, she had lost her virginity to him.

Still she couldn’t bring herself to answer the ringing phone.

Eventually it cut into voicemail and she snatched it up, quickly turned it off before it started ringing again or a text message came through, annoyed that she was shaking. She shoved the phone in the bedside drawer, slipped back down under the duvet, told herself to get her shit together.

As her breathing steadied, she closed her eyes, though knew she was in for another long and sleepless night.


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