Keep It in the Family

by John Marrs

And me. I remember every one of them. Because I am the bait that lures them here.

‘It’s like Jumanji,’ I say. ‘I’m half expecting Dwayne Johnson to appear on a motorbike.’ My joke falls on deaf ears.

I question if we’d still be together had she not fallen pregnant. I hate to say it, but no, probably not. It was an accident, albeit a happy one.

But I’ve grown to realise that when I don’t have blood on my hands, they are uncomfortably dry.

Maybe that’s why she’s not the only girl in my life: subconsciously I keep a spare as I don’t want to be left on my own.

‘This morning police have confirmed two more bodies have been found at the property.’

‘All I can say – and as always, this goes no further than these four walls – is that two adult skeletal bodies are with the Home Office pathologist.’

I don’t want to smell like a wet dog on my wedding day.

‘We will give you every penny of that money to buy yourself somewhere new. But it’s on the condition that you leave my son and your marriage.’

You are like a cancer in our family, Mia, eating away at us.

‘You don’t expect us to let you take him with you, do you? Part of the condition of you moving away is that you leave my grandson behind.’

Finn Hunter, 30, has been spending cosy nights with his ex-girlfriend behind his wife Mia’s back – and they have a daughter together.

CHAPTER 39 FINN Fuck.

By poking around in my business and my childhood, she left me with no choice but to interfere.

At least until a few days ago, when I contacted the news desk of The Sun on Sunday to tip them off anonymously about Finn’s double life.

But really, I was scared of what they’d dig up about me. Emma and Chloe are not the whole story.

‘Where’s my friend? Have you seen Abigail?’

‘Precious.’ It’s an unusual but familiar name. I recall meeting a Precious at a church group my parents took me to shortly after George left.

‘You don’t feed the animals. You are done here.’ And with a mighty shove that sends me to my knees, it’s my turn to be behind the door.

‘I don’t think you should do that,’ comes a voice from behind me.

However, Mia isn’t the cancer. The rest of us are. And one by one we have all taken a bite out of this girl.

‘Then we need to get out of here. What’s your name?’ ‘Dave,’ he says. ‘I’m Debbie,’

I exploited his guilt over the fatal injuries he thought he’d inflicted on Precious Johnson by using it to tether us and promising to keep it a secret.

I’m not sure how much longer I’m going to be doing this commute anyway, because if what they’re saying is true and this Covid thing continues to spread, I might be working from home for a while during a lockdown.

A brother and sister disappeared together in February 1990: a four-year-old girl, Tanya, along with one-month-old William.

Taking my phone from the door pocket, I make a call I never considered might be necessary. It is answered within three rings. And I don’t need to fake my tears for them to hear how upset I am.

‘You have to stick to the agreement. You know what happens if you don’t.’

‘What kind of mother teaches their son how to kill?’

. I was eight years old when I helped you to abduct that girl in Leicester.

‘If you don’t keep coming to visit me, I’ll make sure you never receive another new photograph of Sonny again.’

Or that I’ve already filled two.

Then, a week ago, I filled a second case with Mia’s friend Lorna Holmes.

‘And what do we do to naughty people?’ ‘We punish them!’ he says enthusiastically.