Leave Her Hanging: A Noir Thriller

Chapter Seven

I dreamed someone was strangling me. They put a belt around my neck and held my hands down while I struggled for breath and my vision went black. I couldn’t tell who was doing it. Sometimes I thought it was a stranger. Other times, it was Ella’s mother, screaming at me while I died. Once or twice it was people from school: Jeremy, Dave. And one time it was me, grinning down at myself as I pulled the belt tighter.

I woke struggling for breath, heart in overdrive, my pillow soaked in sweat. It took me a moment to work out where I was. I panted, still feeling the crushing pain in my chest, the terror. It was okay. I was home in bed. Everything was fine. I tried to lie to myself that it was all a dream. But I’m a terrible liar.

I rolled over and checked my phone for the time. Not even seven in the morning yet, but I knew damn well I wasn’t getting back to sleep. As I sat up in bed, wiping away the dampness on my face, I saw the little scrap of paper on the bedside table where I’d left it last night.

I’d been through every number in my phone, comparing it to the phone number I’d pulled out of Ella’s dresser. No matches. It wasn’t Megan, or Jeremy, or anyone I knew. I’d spent half an hour staring at it, wondering if I should call and see who picked up, but something stopped me. If the person whose phone number this was had anything to do with Ella’s death, I didn’t want to tip them off. And I wasn’t going to take it to the cops. For one thing, there was no proof it even belonged to Ella, unless they matched the handwriting. And even then, they’d think it meant nothing.

Of course, the little devil on my shoulder reminded me that wasn’t quite the full and honest truth, was it? I didn’t want the cops involved, not yet. I’d had enough of them and their questions after the thing with Ella’s dad. They were arseholes, every last one of them. And if they came barging into the middle of this with sirens blazing, I’d never get the chance to look Ella’s killer in the eye and make him hurt. So I kept my mouth shut, got out of bed, showered, and went downstairs.

Dad wasn’t home from his night shift yet, and Leanne was still in bed, so I had the kitchen to myself. I fed Phineas then fixed myself a bowl of cornflakes and flicked through the breakfast news shows on TV. There was war in the Middle East—business as usual—and some politician in a suit was bitching about the state of the welfare system. Nothing about a beautiful, energetic 17-year-old girl being strangled with her own belt and fixed up to look like she’d topped herself. But there was something about a three-legged skateboarding pig. I turned the TV off before I could put my foot through it.

I had my bag slung over my shoulder and was halfway out the door when Leanne came downstairs, tying the sash of her dressing gown. Her eyes were so puffy you could use them for airbags.

“You’re leaving early,” she said, turning on the kettle. “Is your dad home yet?”

“No.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yeah.” I still had one foot out the door, my fingers tapping on the door frame. Leanne was all right, I guess. But she was a meddler, always trying to improve me and Dad, like we were some kind of interior decorating project. I couldn’t deal with that right now. And besides, I had someone I wanted to see before school started.

She put a heaped teaspoon of instant coffee into the mug with the cows on it and glanced at me. “You seemed distracted last night. Quiet.”

“Did I?”

She nodded. “Is everything all right at school? I mean, after everything that happened?”

“It’s fine.”

“Have you made up with…oh, what’s her name again? It’s on the tip of my tongue.”

I took deep breaths, in, out, trying to control myself. It’s not her fault. She doesn’t know. I balled my hand into a fist in my pocket.

“Ella. Yeah. We’re fine.”

Leanne looked at me like she knew I wasn’t telling the whole truth, but she just nodded again and poured her coffee. “She’s a lovely girl. Tell her she’s always welcome here. It’s been too long.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I have to go.”

“Don’t you want to take some lunch?” she said. But I was already out the door.

~~~

This book is available now at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Kobo, and Smashwords. Find out more at www.harrystjohn.com.

Thanks for reading!