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BY MONDAY MORNING, Tammy still hadn’t come home.
Liv was getting worried and called her mobile several times, though it was either switched off or out of battery as it just went straight through to answer phone. It wasn’t like Tammy not to come home. However wasted she ended up at the weekend, she always made it back so she’d be ready for work Monday morning.
She’d left enough messages now, and didn’t feel she could call any more. How stupid would she feel if Tammy was simply still angry with her, and was staying at someone else’s house because she didn’t want to be around her? Liv would look like a complete stalker. Tamsin was an adult and was free to do whatever she wanted. She didn’t have to report back to Olivia. But something gnawed at her, and she couldn’t let it drop.
Liv didn’t have any choice but to leave for work just as she did every weekday morning. She couldn’t risk losing her job on top of everything else. Even if Tony was a little strange at times, the job was the most stable thing in her life right now, and she desperately needed it.
She arrived at work to an angry client whose buyers had pulled out at the last minute, and another who was being messed around by an incompetent solicitor. Neither of those things were in Liv’s control, yet she was the one who caught the brunt of it when the house-sellers needed someone to vent at. At least her being busy meant she didn’t have time to mull over everything else that had happened, though she couldn’t stop herself from flicking her gaze repeatedly over to her phone, hoping either Tammy or Michael would have called or messaged her. Not that she was really expecting Michael to. After their previous couple of conversations, he probably thought he was better off out of the relationship.
“Hey, how are you after the weekend?” Ellen asked as they stood by the coffee machine.
“No more blackouts, which I guess is a good thing. And I spoke to Michael, and he insists there’s nothing going on between him and Tammy, and that he was just popping around to pick up the jacket he’d left there the other day.”
A smile of relief spread across Ellen’s face. “That’s great.”
“Yeah, but Tammy didn’t come home last night.”
The smile vanished. “Oh? Is that normal? She normally stays out a lot, doesn’t she?”
“But she’s normally home by Sunday night, ready for work the next day. And she’s not answering her phone, or replied to any of my texts.”
Her lips twisted. “Well, you and Tammy have never exactly been best buddies.”
“Maybe not, but I thought she’d at least let me know she’s okay. I told her in my messages that I was worried.”
Ellen exhaled a sigh. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably hooked up with some guy and gone straight to work from his place.” The smile was back, but this time mischievous. “At least now you know the guy wasn’t Michael.”
Liv forced a smile in return. “True.”
“Honestly, Liv. I think you’re being too kind to her. Tammy doesn’t give a shit about anyone but herself. I bet you’ll get back to the flat and discover her stomping around in a crap mood just like always, and then at least you’ll be able to get her to confirm what Michael said about the jacket.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Ellen gave her a stern look. “And you’re going to call the doctor today and make an appointment about the blackouts, right?”
“Yes, I said I would.” Quickly, she moved the topic in a different direction. “Anyway, how about you? You’re the one who’s had this big breakup, and I’m the one hogging all the attention.”
Ellen’s eyes misted over, her lower lip jutting out, and she glanced away. “He’s shut me out of his life completely, so I guess I have to accept it’s over. He’s going to have to speak to me at some point, though, because I’ve got a ton of his mail.”
The knowledge that she’d gone to see Ryan swirled at her guts. She knew she should tell Ellen everything, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. It would only upset her more, and the truth was that Ellen seemed to be handling things far better than she was right now. Maybe she was being utterly selfish, but she couldn’t stand for this to be a new area of animosity in her life. The saying ‘don’t shoot the messenger’ didn’t come out of nowhere.
***
LIV FINISHED UP HER day at work and went home. She still hadn’t heard anything from Tammy, and when she let herself into the flat, everything was quiet. She did a quick tour of the place, trying to figure out if there were any clues to show Tammy had been and gone again, but the place looked exactly the same as she’d left it.
She tried her phone again, but once more it went straight through to answer phone.
Taking a seat on the edge of the sofa, she sat holding the phone in her hands and staring at it as though it might have some answers. She’d lived such a separate life from her flatmate that she didn’t even know who to contact to see if she’d shown up somewhere else. Tammy told her she was originally from Plymouth, and her dad had buggered off when she was younger, and she didn’t really get on with her mother anymore. She worked in marketing for a kitchen company, but that was all Liv really knew. It suddenly occurred to her that Tammy could have hidden as much about her past as Liv had, and neither of them would have been any the wiser.
A sharp knock at the door pulled her from her stupor. Who was knocking? Normally, people used the bell at the main entrance to buzz up. She had the crazy idea that Tammy was home, but why wouldn’t she use her key? Unless she’d lost it, of course, or she was hurt and unable to.
Liv got to her feet, her legs loose and wobbly beneath her, and made her way to the door. A peephole embedded into the wood allowed her to see into the hallway, and she leaned into it, squeezing one eye shut so she could get a good look.
Two people, one man and one woman, both around mid-thirties, were standing in the hallway. They looked official, and her chest grew heavy with dread.
Stepping back again, she unlocked the door and pulled it open.
“Olivia Midhurst?” asked the woman.
Liv nodded. “Yes.”
“I’m D.C. Flynn, this is D.C. Mayfair. Can we come in?”
She looked anxiously between them. “What’s this about?”
“Miss Midhurst, we’d really rather not talk about it in the hall.”
She nodded and stepped out of the way, allowing the police officers to step into the flat with her. “Okay, sure.” Immediately, guilt swamped her, and her gaze darted over everything she could see in the flat, hoping there was nothing incriminating. Sometimes Tammy liked to smoke a little weed in the evenings, and Liv would just about die of mortification if the police officers noticed some remnants of it on the coffee table.
“Please, have a seat.” She gestured to the sofa, relieved she couldn’t see anything illegal lying around.
Both officers sat awkwardly side by side, perched right at the edge. The woman had a folder of notes, which she placed on her knees.
“This is the known address of Miss Tamsin Ashe?” asked the male half, D.C. Mayfair.
“Yes, that’s right. She’s my flatmate.” Liv looked anxiously between the police officers, her hands clutched together in her lap. “Is she okay?”
“I hate to be the one to have to tell you this, but I’m afraid she’s not. Her body was recovered from a park earlier today.”
Liv froze, her mind pulling away at the edges. She reached out and grabbed the armrests of the chair, trying to steady herself.
“What?” Her voice sounded distant, like it didn’t belong to her at all.
“We’re not treating her death as suspicious at this time.”
Liv blinked. “How can it not be suspicious? She’s dead!”
“It would seem she sent some friends and family a number of concerning text messages before she died.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand. What are you trying to say?”
“We believe Tamsin may have taken her own life.”
She barked sudden and inappropriate laughter. “Tammy? Kill herself? No way.”
The female officer frowned. “What makes you so certain?”
“That just isn’t who Tammy is ... was ... I mean. She’s confident, and beautiful, and got everything going for her. She wouldn’t do something like that.”
The officer’s tone softened. “Quite often it is the ones we suspect the least who are going through the hardest battles. They have a way of hiding how they’re feeling from everyone around them.”
What she said was true—Liv knew that better than most. But she still didn’t believe Tammy had killed herself.
Michael.
Other than her, he was the last one to see Tamsin. She suddenly remembered the blonde woman who had turned up dead, too. Hadn’t they said she’d also killed herself? It was too much of a coincidence, surely, for the deaths not to be linked.
Liv opened her mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut again. She’d be throwing Michael into the lion’s den, and possibly for no reason, if she said something. He would never forgive her if she told the police she thought he could be involved in the deaths of two young women. The cops thought both deaths were suicide. They were professionals. They must have good reason for thinking such a thing.
“How ...” Her voice broke, and she cleared her throat, composing herself. She tried again. “How did she do it?”
“It was a drugs overdose,” D.C. Mayfair, the male half of the duo, said. “Cocaine. We believe she has a history of drug abuse, which probably led to her mentally fragile state.”
Liv shook her head. “She was a party girl, that was all. It was recreational. It’s not as though she was sitting on the street doing it.”
The woman officer frowned slightly at her, obviously reading the myriad of expressions flitting across Liv’s face. “Is there something you’d like to tell us? Something you’ve thought of?”
“Oh, no, not really.”
“When was the last time you saw Tamsin alive?”
She could tell her now, that it had been when she’d come home early and seen Michael leaving, shortly followed by Tammy. But if she did, they’d question Michael, and they’d want to know why they’d all argued, and then the medication she was on was bound to be brought up, and if that was mentioned, they’d be sure to look into her past. It was a can of worms she didn’t want to open.
If Tammy had killed herself, Liv wouldn’t be helping anyone by bringing all that up. She’d only be causing trouble for all those left behind.
“When she left for work Friday morning,” she said instead. “She didn’t seem any different than any other day.”
The officer gave a tight smile and snapped her notebook shut. “Okay.” She reached out, and Liv saw she was holding something out to her. It was a business card. “If you think of anything at all that might be of interest to us, please, do call.”
She took the card. “I will.”
The officers got to their feet, and Liv showed them to the door. They both gave her polite smiles as they stepped out into the hallway, and Liv gently closed the door on them.
Her limbs trembled, her hands shaking and her legs weak. An empty chasm had appeared where her stomach used to be. She managed to get back over to the couch and sank down onto the cushions. In shock, she covered her mouth with her hand. Tammy, dead? She struggled to even think of it. How can someone who had been walking around the flat only days before now simply no longer exist?
She needed to see Michael and find out what was said between him and Tammy when he last saw her. Did he say something to her that made her do what she had? The possibility seemed crazy, but she had to know, if only to put her own mind to rest.
Liv found her phone, and her trembling hand caused her to misdial, but then she pulled up his number and swiped the screen to call him. He answered after the second ring, as though he’d been waiting for her to call.
“Liv,” he said, his tone serious. “Is everything okay?”
That simple question caused her to burst into tears. “No. No, it’s not. Nothing is okay,” she managed to say between choked, hitching breaths.
“Why? What’s happened?”
“It’s Tammy,” she blurted. “She’s dead.”
“What?” The word was a snapped syllable.
Liv stifled a sob, her knuckles pressed against her mouth. “The police were just here. They think she killed herself.”
“God, that’s awful. Are you all right?”
“No, I’m not. I need to see you.”
He hesitated, and then said, “Are you at home?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll be there in half an hour.”
The line went dead.
Liv put her head in her hands. She was caught in a nightmare, and she didn’t know how to escape. She wanted someone to tell her this was all a mistake, and they’d wrongly identified the body. Tammy might never have been her favourite person, but she never would have wanted her dead. Was she really going through the sort of depression that would cause someone to take their own life? Liv knew that kind of depression—she’d skated on the edges of it many times before—and it was intense and solitary and often messy. But maybe Tammy had hidden it well. She had seemed her usual self when she’d left the flat on Friday afternoon. Liv had assumed that was because she’d just spent the previous hour or so fucking her boyfriend, but Michael had promised her that hadn’t been the case. But then what had she been doing at the flat? She should have been working that afternoon. Had she called in sick? Was this something the police had looked into?
Liv hadn’t moved from her spot on the couch and was surprised when the buzzer to the door sounded. She’d lost track of time, so caught up in her thoughts. The sound immediately sent her stomach rolling like the inside of a washing machine. What was she going to say to him? Did she truly believe he might be connected in the deaths of two women? And, if she was, should she even be alone with him right now?
If they did it to themselves, how could Michael possibly be involved? The police didn’t think there was anything suspicious going on.
Yes, but the police didn’t know about the connection between Tammy and Holly Newie—if Holly was even the same girl she’d seen Michael arguing with. Michael said he didn’t think it was, and if it wasn’t, then there was no connection, and she was drawing lines where there weren’t any.
The buzzer went again, insistent. She couldn’t leave him standing outside when she’d basically invited him over.
Her legs felt like rubber, her bowels weak and watery, as she made her way over to the door and hit the button to let him up. She waited until she heard the lift coming to a halt on her floor, and then opened the door.
Michael stepped out, his handsome face pinched in concern. In her head, she started to imagine him as some kind of monster who was wandering around driving women to do unspeakable things, but now he was here, she saw it was only him—the man she’d grown to know and care about over the last month.
He caught her eye and offered her a sympathetic smile. “Hey,” he said softly.
“Hi,” she replied, suddenly choked with emotion.
He pulled her in and hugged her tight. She froze in his grip, still caught up in a whirlwind of confusion, making no effort to hold him back.
He must have figured out her body language and untangled himself from her. “What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t talk about this in the middle of the hall. She grabbed his hand and tugged him inside the flat and shut the door behind them.
Liv turned to face him. “As far as I know, you were the last one to see Tammy alive.”
He frowned, shaking his head. “I saw her briefly when I came to get my jacket. That was all.”
“What was she doing here?”
His frown deepened. “What?”
“She should have been at work, but she was here, with you. Why?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. She didn’t say.”
“But you knew someone was here in order for you to pick up the jacket, and you never called me.”
“I called the landline, and Tammy picked up. I wasn’t going to start questioning why she was in her own flat.”
“You were arguing with her. I heard you from outside.”
“I already explained that to you. I told her that her behaviour the other day was out of order.” He huffed out a breath of exasperation. “What is this? A fucking inquisition?”
She jammed her hands on her hips and tried to hold her nerve. He was too good at breaking her down, of making her do what he wanted. Was that what he’d done with Holly Newie and Tamsin, too? Had he somehow convinced them to hurt themselves?
“I’m allowed to ask questions, Michael. It would be strange if I wasn’t questioning what happened. Try to see things from my point of view. Tammy started an argument between us a week ago, and then I don’t see or hear from you—”
He cut her off, pointing a finger at her. “I didn’t see or hear from you either, Liv. Don’t make out like this is all one-sided. You could have easily picked up the phone, too.”
He was trying to turn the conversation away from Tammy, but she wouldn’t let him. “And then I catch you here at the flat with her, and the next thing I know she’s dead. Now, you’re telling me that was all completely unconnected.”
His eyes narrowed, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “I hope you didn’t say any of this to the police.”
“Why? What have you got to hide?”
“Nothing! But the last thing I need right now is the police poking around. You think I want to be associated with a young woman’s death? You know how bad that will look? Jesus, Liv, sometimes I don’t think you live in the real world.”
She burst into tears again, turning her face and angling her body away from him.
“Oh, Livvy. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m being an insensitive arse.” He caught hold of her arm and pulled her back around. “Come here.”
This time, when he tugged her in to hold her, she let him. She needed that confirmation of life, of touch and comfort. His strong arms wrapped around her, and she pressed her face to his chest, crying into his t-shirt. He was warm and smelled so good, and she clung to his back, rumpling the material of his shirt between her fists like a baby with a comforter.
When her tears subsided, she lifted her face from his chest. Her cheeks burned with humiliation at her show of emotion, and she looked away. But his touch under her chin lifted her face to his, and he kissed away her tears. The feel of his mouth on hers helped to soften away all the sharp edges of anxiety that had been slicing her to pieces all week. This was just Michael. There was no reason to think his explanation of things weren’t the correct ones. Tammy probably saw a ton of people after she’d seen Michael at the flat, and the people Tammy hung out with weren’t exactly the naïve, innocent types either.
His hands tangled in her hair as their kisses grew deeper and more frantic. She pressed herself up against the hard planes of his body, wanting him to make her forget everything else. He could make her feel good, could calm her racing mind, and she needed that right now. He reached under her bottom and lifted her, her legs wrapping around his hips as he carried her into the bedroom. They dropped to the bed, with her still straddling him. His hardness pressed against the intimate spot between her thighs, and she gasped, grinding harder. Their breathing came ragged, their tongues lashing. Hair was pulled, bite marks left on skin, as though they were both pleasuring and punishing each other at the same time.
She felt as though she was sinking and he was the life raft for her to cling onto. Because that was what a drowning person did. Even if the raft was full of holes and coming to pieces at the edges, if that was all you had, you still clutched it tight and prayed it would save you.