Page 40 of The Lucky Winners

Merri

The doorbell chimes at a minute past ten and my coffee sloshes in the cup, hot against my knuckles. Dev has opened the gates. ‘That’ll be them,’ he says, already on his feet. I stay planted on the sofa and force myself to take some deep breaths.

Two uniformed officers stand on the step, both women, both young – mid-twenties maybe. Their faces are open and curious beneath their hats. One has a clipboard, the other a kind of practised calm in her eyes that makes me nervous.

Dev greets them in that steady, polite tone of his, and I hover behind, wishing I could dart upstairs and let him deal with it all.

‘Thanks for coming out,’ he says.

They step into the hallway, wiping their dusty boots on the mat.

They introduce themselves, Hargreaves and Lane, both police constables. The one with the clipboard says, ‘We understand there’s been an issue with someone posting photos online.’

‘Yes, and we’ve had two incidences of vandalism too,’ Dev adds. ‘The glass doors were damaged and sprayed with red paint.’

The other officer nods. ‘We have a record of that, yes.’

Dev leads them to the living room and both officers pause just inside the doorway. Their eyes go straight to the view – Lake Windermere framed in the wide glass, a silver-blue shimmer beyond the trees that makes my blood run cold.

‘Wow,’ Hargreaves murmurs, looking around the room. ‘This is … something else.’

Lane nods, letting out a low whistle. ‘You don’t see many places like this on our rounds. You won the place, right?’

I smile. ‘Dev bought just one ticket for our wedding anniversary and it won the jackpot.’

They check the locks, the doors, the latches on the back windows. It’s all secure and they move on to talking about alarms, motion sensors and those clever little cameras you can get from Amazon. I keep nodding like I’m listening, but all I can hear is the blood in my ears.

It’s only when I see Lane glance at my hands that I follow her gaze and realize I’ve been twisting my fingers so hard they’re blotched red and white. I drop them to my sides.

‘Is there anyone either of you can think of who might hold a grudge?’ Hargreaves asks.

Dev shakes his head. ‘Nobody springs to mind. We’ve made a few friends but they all seem nice people.’

‘And what about the past? People from your old life who might be jealous of your win.’

For a second I swear the floor wobbles underneath my feet. The air feels heavier and I have to reassure myself it’s just a standard question. She doesn’t actually know anything.

‘No,’ I say, too fast. ‘There’s nobody like that. Nobody at all.’

Dev shifts beside me. I can feel him looking at me, but I keep my eyes on the rug.

‘Merri thought she saw someone in the trees the other evening,’ he says. ‘Close to the bottom of the garden.’

I give a small laugh. ‘Honestly, it was probably just a shadow or an animal. It was getting dark. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

The officers look at each other. Not suspicious exactly, but with a sharpness in their eyes. Lane writes something on her pad.

‘If anything else appears online, more photos or whatever, please let us know. And we’ll ask the patrol car to swing by when they can. Just to keep an eye open.’

They smile as they leave, but Lane’s eyes catch mine one last time before the door closes. I hear the crunch of gravel as they walk to their car, and then the hum of the engine fading down the drive.

Dev turns to me. The house feels cold now, as if the warmth left with them. ‘Can we talk, Merri?’ he says. ‘I don’t want to push, but … why are you so afraid of the police?’

I want to answer. I even open my mouth to do so. It would be so easy just to tell him and then deal with the fallout. It’s all here. All the words, the whole story, lined up ready to tumble out.

But then Dev’s phone rings, a sharp trill that cuts through the quiet. He glances at the screen. ‘Sorry. I need to take this.’

As he walks into the other room, the silence returns, heavy and close.

I stay where I am, barely breathing.

The past isn’t behind me at all. Not really.

It used to be silent and buried deep, but now it’s clawed its way out.

Now it’s a breath against the back of my neck.