Trust No One: A Tense Psychological Thriller Full of Twists

The encounter with Jeremy had unnerved Olivia, playing on her mind all of the drive home. Once inside the car, the doors locked, she had fired a message off to Noah.

Fancy some company tonight? I can bring fish and chips.

She had slipped her phone in her bag, smoothed her damp hair back and glanced around the deserted car park. A figure was standing by the back wall of the walkway. Was he watching her?

Quickly she fired up the ignition, headlights on and catching him in her beam. An older man, in his seventies at least, shopping bags on the floor beside him, and she could see he was taking shelter under the overhead brick ledge. As she backed the car out of the space, a woman joined him, taking some of the bags, and they went back towards the main road.

Jesus, Liv. Stop being so paranoid.

It was Jeremy’s fault. Intentional or not, he had made her feel vulnerable, had even scared her a little. If it was his idea of a joke, she hadn’t found it funny.

Back home and there was a note on the side from Molly saying she had gone to the gym, but had made a tuna bake. It was in the oven if Olivia wanted to help herself.

The absence of her lodger alleviated the guilt that she was going out. Molly had been understandably freaked out by her encounter in the garden, and part of Olivia felt guilty leaving her in the house alone. She really needed to talk to Noah before she lost her nerve again.

Remembering him, she pulled her phone from her bag, surprised that he hadn’t replied to her message. Feeling a little uneasy, she fed Luna, who ate just a couple of bites before disappearing out through the cat flap, then changed out of her work clothes before jumping in the shower. Back in the bedroom and she checked her phone again. Still no reply. This wasn’t like Noah. Usually he got back to her quickly.

She dried her hair, ran the straighteners through it, her unease growing. The house felt too big tonight, too empty. Needing noise, she shouted downstairs to Alexa to play one of her favourite playlists, turning the volume up and relaxing a little as music filled every room.

Her phone beeped as she was unplugging the straighteners. Noah at last. She relaxed further as she read his reply, telling her to come over.

After moisturising and squirting on her favourite perfume, she rummaged through her underwear drawer, fishing out one of her better sets, just in case.

She was rooting through her wardrobe deciding what top to put on with her jeans, when the music abruptly stopped. Frowning, she shouted down to Alexa to resume the playlist.

The music restarted. Stereophonics blaring through the speaker system. Putting it down to a blip, she turned back to the wardrobe, selecting a thin navy jumper with a low neckline and threw it on the bed next to the underwear. She had just finished doing up her bra, when the music cut out again.

‘Damn it, Alexa.’

Quickly she slipped into the jumper, this time went to the top of the stairs to shout at the stupid Echo. Before she could get her instruction out, a song started playing, but it was nothing from her playlist.

For a moment she froze, holding on to her breath. She recognised the chords instantly, ice in her blood as Perry Como started singing It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas. And for a moment she was back in the hideous kitchen of 8 Honington Lane watching Gary Lamb burning to death.

Her heart pounded, the sound thundering in her ears. Someone was in the house.

‘Alexa, stop!’

The music instantly cut out.

‘Who’s there? Molly, is that you?’

Her question was met with silence.

Feeling vulnerable only half dressed, she grabbed her jeans from the back of the chair, put them on, glancing round the room for a weapon.

Call the police.

She couldn’t. They would laugh down the phone at her. What’s your emergency? Alexa started playing a random song. DC Upton hadn’t even believed her about the record player, so no one was going to take her seriously about this.

She took an old tennis racquet from under her bed. It was a pretty useless weapon, but better than nothing. Then she picked up her phone and slipped it in her back pocket.

At least call Noah.

It was tempting, but seriously, what could he do? If she was on the phone to him while checking the house she would be distracted, an easy target. He would probably instruct her to barricade herself in her bedroom and wait for him to get there. That would take at least twenty minutes and she didn’t have a lock on the bedroom door.

Better to check the house herself, then get the hell out.

As she crept down the stairs, being as quiet as possible, wishing like hell she had put more lights on, a floorboard creaked below.

She froze again, gripping the handle of the tennis racquet with an iron grasp as she recalled the words on the first note she had received: Everyone’s past catches up with them eventually, including yours. Soon.

Someone had been in the garden on Friday night, startling Molly. Were they now in the house too?

Olivia glanced at her boots and coat in the hallway, was tempted to grab them and leg it to her car, but she couldn’t do that to Molly. Her lodger would be home in an hour or so. If Olivia was going out, she needed to know that the house was secure and Molly would be safe. Plus of course there was Luna, who had disappeared outside. She couldn’t have her cat coming back indoors to an intruder.

She pulled her phone from her pocket, put Noah on speed dial, just in case she did need to call him, then gripping the tennis racquet with her free hand she descended the stairs and silently crossed to the living room where the Echo was situated, right next to the TV. She flipped the light switch, illuminating the large room, breathed a sigh of relief once she had checked behind the sofa, knowing there was no one in there.

Back into the hallway and she crept towards the kitchen. Again the room was empty, though a cool breeze and the scent and sound of rain had her heart going into her mouth. The back door was open.

Gingerly, Olivia crossed the room, her legs like jelly as she reached for the door handle, half expecting someone to grab her arm. She pushed it shut, locked it, checked the utility room, found it empty.

That just left the cloakroom and the coat cupboard. Warily she checked both, wanting to cry with relief when she found them empty.

There was no one downstairs. The house was secure.

She was exhausted.

It was tempting to ask Noah to come to her, but truth was she wanted, needed, to get out of the house. As she put her coat on and slipped her feet into her boots, it crossed her mind that she still had to get to her car.

What if the person who had been in the house was waiting outside for her?

She glanced out of the tiny hall window, saw it was still raining steadily. It was maybe twelve to fifteen steps to her car. She could do this. Grabbing her bag and slipping it over her shoulder, she quietly eased the door open, keys ready to click at her car. Stepping outside of the house she gently closed the door behind her. At the moment the latch caught, she clicked her keys. The beep sounded unnecessarily loud above the splatter of raindrops hitting the driveway. Olivia glanced ahead, focusing on her car, sucked in her breath, then ran for the vehicle.

As she got in and locked the doors, she was certain she saw a figure slip across the front lawn. Without stopping to check, she put the car into gear and accelerated off the driveway.