The Missing Husband

The memory of David giving her a piggyback halfway home was one that would have had them in fits of laughter but Jo wasn’t even smiling now. She kept her head down as she put one perfectly booted foot in front of the other. But if David had walked along the same cracked pavement on Wednesday evening then his trail was as invisible as the man himself.

Walking downhill from the station, Jo’s steady pace belied her racing pulse. So far she had left it to others to retrace David’s steps and she hadn’t intended on making the trek herself, not today. It had only been when she had stood in front of Steph, defending her husband, that she felt compelled to follow him home, but when she reached a narrow path that led away from the main road, she came to a juddering halt and questioned her sanity.

There had been only a handful of occasions when David had been brave enough to tell Jo what to do, but he had been very firm when he had told her she must not, under any circumstances take this shortcut home in the dark when she was on her own. Not that he would heed his own warning, Jo thought as her coat snagged on the overgrown brambles that partly obstructed the entrance.

The only light to guide her came from the rear windows of houses running along one side of the path while on the other she glimpsed distant floodlights from the railway track beyond a high mesh fence and an equally impenetrable wall of tall trees. Both sources of light were too far away to offer any real illumination and, barely able to see where she was going, Jo stumbled over potholes a couple of times.

She wished she had brought a torch, but then wondered if she would have had the courage to use it. The path was less than ten feet wide in parts but much wider in others and there were plenty of places to hide her worst nightmares. Without warning, an image of David’s dead body lying in the undergrowth flashed in front of her eyes. Her heart was pounding and she felt hot and clammy in spite of the cold weather. She wanted to unbutton her coat but instead wrapped her arms around herself, drawing herself and little FB in together, against the unknowns that lurked in the dark.

Common sense told her that those particular fears were unfounded. Even though the police were still deciding whether or not it was necessary to conduct a fingertip search, DS Baxter had assured her that his officers had carried out a thorough search of the area already and had found nothing untoward. Which beggared the question, what on earth did Jo think she was trying to achieve? A little peace of mind, she hoped.

At the halfway point she came to a large clearing about forty feet wide. There were vague outlines of perhaps half a dozen boys playing football, their dark hoodies all but obscuring their features in the dim light. It was only the glow from a couple of cigarettes that gave some away.

A football shot past her and clanged noisily against the mesh fence and a moment later a boy ran over and retrieved it while the others looked on. All eyes were on her. She wanted to give them the benefit of the doubt and told herself that they were halting the game to let her pass, but fraught nerves allowed darker thoughts to seep into her consciousness. She quickened her pace only to stumble and, reaching out blindly, grabbed hold of the metal fence, making it rumble angrily. One of the boys passed a remark in a low voice, inaudible to Jo, and a couple of the others laughed.

Jo felt a sharp sting where the rusted mesh had scratched her but she was more concerned with the panic bubbling up like lava from the pit of her stomach. If David had been with her, they wouldn’t have given the boys a second glance and his absence weighed heavily on her chest. For a moment she couldn’t catch her breath and her lungs began to burn.

‘Are you all right, love?’ the boy holding the ball asked.

He was about Lauren’s age and it was entirely possible that they went to the same school. The deliberate thought was meant to calm Jo but her body had a mind of its own. ‘Yes,’ she gasped, with what little air she could squeeze from her lungs.

She managed to collect herself and, placing a protective hand over her bump, scurried past as someone accused the boy of fancying her. An argument broke out but their voices quickly receded into the distance and she focused on reaching the end of the path. With a cry, Jo burst out of the shadows on to a brightly lit road only two streets away from home. She tried to catch her breath and slow her pace but fear continued to prick the length of her spine. She had an unshakeable conviction that someone was stalking her and kept looking behind until eventually she couldn’t resist the urge to run. She must have looked a sight as she hung on to her bags and her belly for dear life but she didn’t care.

A gasp of relief burst from her lungs the moment she slammed the front door shut and pressed her back against it before sliding down on to the floor. The quick gulps of air slowly amassed enough breath to let out an anguished sob. The sob caught in her throat as the sound of the house phone ringing cut through the darkness.

‘It’s looking like he’s left you then.’