They Thought I Was Dead: Sandy’s Story

1 26 July 2007 — The day I leave

My name is Sandy. I’m driving from Brighton towards Gatwick Airport and I’m nervous as all hell. You would be too if you were me, right now, I promise you. I keep looking in my rear-view mirrors for someone following me. Silly, because no one can possibly know — yet — what I’ve done.

I’ve just left my husband, Roy, but he certainly won’t have a clue at this moment — he’s immersed in his work as ever, on a murder case. It’s his thirtieth birthday today and we’re supposed to be going out to dinner tonight — we have a reservation at our favourite restaurant — us and another couple — our closest friends. It’s a big deal your thirtieth, a milestone. I’d even asked the restaurant to make him a cake with a marzipan goldfish just like his pet, Marlon, on top.

Bad timing, I know. If I’d had a choice, I’d have picked any day but this one. But I don’t have that luxury.

I’m not just running from my husband, although that’s part of this story — he’s a decent guy who doesn’t deserve what I’m going to be putting him through. A decent guy but not an ideal husband for me. No, I’m running from a mess I’ve got myself into — a real, proper mess. A death threat from someone the police have in their sights as a highly dangerous Person of Interest. My husband knows the man, he’s talked about him, believes he is behind several killings, but the fact is that the Major Crime Team don’t have enough evidence to arrest him. Yet.

Roy doesn’t know I have an involvement with this man. He has no idea that I’m the next person he is intending to kill. He doesn’t know how terrified I am.

He doesn’t know I am taking someone with me, either, but that’s another story, for later.

And I’ve no idea what Roy will do when he can’t find me or call or text me. I’ve not left a note or anything corny like that. But I have left pretty much all my personal stuff, other than just a couple of small photographs he won’t miss. He’s a smart detective, so I guess he’ll start by using all those great skills he has at tracking down murder suspects, both current and long past.

But he is going to find it hard to track me down, for one very simple reason.

I no longer exist.