The Role Model: A shocking psychological thriller with several twists by Daniel Hurst (big ebook reader txt) 📗

But then I hear the creak of the floorboard above my head. He’s up there now supposedly using the toilet, but that sound didn’t come from the bathroom.

It came from Chloe’s bedroom.

I run to the stairs and take them two at a time, quickly arriving on the landing, and I’m just about to enter my daughter’s room when I see Tim coming out of it.

He pulls the door closed behind himself as he does, but then he notices me, and it’s clear he is surprised at my sudden appearance.

‘Is everything okay?’ he asks me, keeping his voice low, which is obviously to make out like he is worried about waking my sleeping child, but I know he doesn’t care about her. At least not in that way.

‘What are you doing?’ I ask him, my voice a little louder than his.

‘I thought I heard Chloe calling out when I was on my way to the bathroom,’ he says. ‘But she must have done it in her sleep.’

I realise my hands are still balled into fists as I stand there in front of him, and all I want to do is scream and throw him out of the house. But the fact he is currently standing between me and my child’s bedroom gives me pause for thought. Maybe it will be best to keep playing dumb, so I don’t spook him. If I reveal what I know now, how can I predict what he will do?

‘Are you okay?’ Tim asks me, obviously noting how stressed I must appear.

‘Err, yeah. I’ve just got a bit of a headache coming on. I think I might need to call it a night. Would you mind going?’

Tim frowns, and I worry that I have been way too transparent. He is still standing between me and Chloe’s room, and I fear that I might be powerless to stop him if he realised he had been rumbled and decided to go for broke. But then he smiles at me again.

‘Oh no. Have you taken something for it?’ he asks me, reaching out and placing his hand on my arm, no doubt to try and appear compassionate. But his touch sends a shiver through my body, and I do my best to brush his hand off without appearing to be rude.

‘I’ve taken some Paracetamol. I think I just need an early night,’ I tell him, hoping that will be all it takes to get him back down these stairs and out of the house.

‘Sure. I’ll just nip to the toilet, then I’ll be off,’ he says, giving me that cold smile again before walking past me and into the bathroom, where the sound of the door locking behind him gives me a welcome sense of security, at least for one moment anyway.

But he is still in my house, and that means Chloe isn’t safe.

Deciding to check on my daughter, I creep towards her bedroom door and open it slowly, unsure whether she really is asleep or if Tim might have woken her when he went in. Peering into the dark room, I can make out the shape of her underneath her duvet as well as hear her soft breaths that let me know that she is asleep. Relieved, I carefully pull the door shut and then turn back to face the bathroom, waiting for Tim to reappear.

A couple of minutes later, I hear the toilet flush and the sound of the lock being turned, and Tim re-joins me in the hallway.

‘All okay?’ he asks me, probably wondering why I’m hanging around outside the bathroom.

‘Fine,’ I reply, forcing a smile onto my face that feels like the most unnatural thing I have ever done.

‘Guess I’ll be going then,’ he says, heading for the staircase, and I follow behind, my eyes burning into his back as he descends, each step taking him further away from the child I am trying to protect.

Back in the lounge, I stay standing at the foot of the stairs as he grabs his coat and pulls it on.

‘Give me a call if you feel like it’s getting worse,’ he tells me as if he cares, but I nod my head and assure him that I will.

Then I see him pat down his pockets just before he heads for the door in the way that many people do when they are checking to make sure that they have their most valuable possessions still on them.

Keys. Wallet. Phone.

That’s when Tim realises that his mobile isn’t on him. It’s on the sofa.

There’s a tense moment as I watch him realise that he left it behind when he went upstairs, and I just know that all sorts of thoughts must be running through his head right now.

Did she look at it?

Did she see anything?

Does she know?

But I don’t want to give him too long to figure out the answer, so I head for the door and take it off the latch before opening it and allowing the cold air from outside to seep into the warm room.

‘I’ll call you tomorrow,’ I tell him, doing my best to keep my voice light and breezy.

Tim picks up his phone from the sofa, and I’m worried for a second that he is going to unlock it to see what I might have been looking at, but he just jams it into his pocket and walks towards me by the open doorway.

‘I hope you’re feeling better soon,’ he says, leaning in and giving me a kiss on the head. ‘And I’m excited about what we talked about earlier.’

I do my best not to grimace as his lips come into contact with my scalp, and I have another go at that fake smile again.

‘Me too,’ I say. ‘See you soon.’

He’s almost out the door now. I’m seconds away from being able to close it and put the lock back on. Then all that I will have to do is call