I did not sleep.
After prising out the knife, I hung on to it while I investigated the rest of my home. Stupidly, I’d left a window open in the downstairs loo, which explained how someone had gained access. What I still couldn’t explain: why would someone single me out for special treatment? Did someone know about my trip to London and my interest in a dead man, possibly an informer? Had someone rumbled that I wouldn’t rest until I knew the truth about my sister’s secrets? Together, Mr Blade and me waited for the dawn.
Early, the next morning, I drove straight to the scene of the accident. Aside from the ‘serious incident’ sign, announcing a collision, an appeal for witnesses, and a phone number to call, I couldn’t miss it. Mum was right about the flowers. Bouquets, big and small, decorated the verge.
I pulled over a little way up the road, got out, walked back to where my sister had been cut out of the wreckage. Traffic was light and I could hear birdsong and the steady thrum of sunshine on hot telegraph wires. In my mind’s eye, I saw the motorbike speeding along, Bowen without a care and no inkling of what was about to happen, next, both vehicles hurtling towards each other. I wondered what was on each of their minds in the game changing moment when death came calling. Blind surprise versus certain death and destruction? Then there’d be noise, like a bomb detonating followed by an eerie, inescapable nothingness. I pictured the arrival of the emergency vehicles, police redirecting traffic, erecting signs, closing off the road, a ravaged motorbike, blood on the road, the drama and action, something that Scarlet would have found detestable. She was never a centre of attention girl. “Come on, speak to me,” I murmured. “Tell me whether you meant to do it. Tell me why. Tell me who the fuck is sending threats and upending my life.” I swear I heard Scarlet’s silvery laugh rippling through the trees, cut off only by the sound of approaching traffic.
A burst of anger flashed through me. It wasn’t fate I wanted to stick a middle finger up to. It was Scarlet. How dare she cause so much pain and confusion and grief. As I cast a bitter smile to the sky, it seemed ironic that Heather Bowen’s outrage should find a friend in me. Furious and shaken by the strength of my emotions, I stalked back to my car.
Hales Road is a narrow, congested thoroughfare, with vehicles slung up on pavements. I squeezed into a spot in between a people carrier and Mercedes. It took me ages before the traffic calmed enough for me to climb out without being run over. Barely 10 a.m. and blades of sun bounced off the pavement, white and blinding. You could taste the dirt, petrol fumes and heat.
I didn’t know for certain which house, so I grabbed the railing of the nearest possibility, and climbed the steps to a black front door, and pressed the bell. From the other side, I heard the sound of machine-gun fire, mortars and explosions. For some reason I’d assumed that the Bowen kids were little. Judging by the noise coming from the computer game, I’d either gone to the wrong house, or there was a gap in my knowledge. Next, heavy tread on polished wooden floorboards.
Hair was no longer scraped off Heather Bowen’s face but hung, lank and loose, like metal curtains in a butcher’s shop. A heavy-set woman, with wide, open features, she filled most of the doorway.
“Yes?” Her full lips wrapped around the word, as though she’d not quite overcome a childhood lisp. Maybe it only emerged when she was on her guard.
“I wondered if I could have a word. My name’s Molly Napier.”
“Do I know you?”
“I’m Scarlet Jay’s sister.”
Her cheeks sagged, mouth tightened, and her skin turned chalky grey. The door began to close. I stuck my arm out. Stupid thing to do. “Ow,” I let out.
“Take it away,” she hissed.
“I only want to talk.”
“I very much doubt that.”
“Five minutes of your time, that’s all I ask.”
“This is harassment.”
The blood in my chest raced. The pressure increased. She was going to smash my elbow.
“I’ll call the police.”
“Please. I only want to help,” I gasped.
The door swung back with a mighty swoosh. I drew my arm back, rubbing it painfully. The volume on the game shot up several decibels. “Help? Your sister has destroyed my family.” Her eyes narrowed to two venomous slits. “Now GET OUT.”
“Mrs Bowen, I want to talk to you about my sister’s bracelet.”
Her wet mouth dropped open. Her breath came in short ragged gasps. She pressed a hand to her head. “What did you say?” she gasped, and I knew the police must have passed on Nate’s denial about who the bracelet belonged to.
For a horrible moment, I thought she was going to lunge at me. “It definitely belonged to my sister, Mrs Bowen. Please can I come in?”