A rhythmic thud sounds from the door and Emilia gasps, her eyes flying away from the computer.
She tiptoes towards the closed curtains, peering out from behind a gap to try to see towards the front door. She hadn’t been home an hour before the media arrived. They gathered on the pavement beyond her gate, staring up at the house, waiting for her to emerge. Emilia called the victim liaison officer but she said there’s nothing they can do. Just ignore them.
‘Emi, it’s me,’ a voice says.
She takes a calming breath, shaking out her trembling hands. There’s nothing to be afraid of.
It’s Ciaran.
She strides quickly towards the door, emotion already threatening to overwhelm her. She thought she would never see him again.
She opens it slightly and the journalists and photographers surge forward, trying to catch her attention, but he slips through the gap and then turns to push the door closed. As he wheels around his eyes instantly lock with hers. His face crumples with emotion.
He rushes towards her, his hands curling around her head and into her hair. She wraps her arms around him, her fingers pulling on the fabric of his thick jumper, tears soaking into the wool.
She pauses – his shoulders are rising and falling spasmodically.
‘Ciaran … Ciaran, I’m okay.’
‘Okay?’ he whispers, his breath hot against her neck. ‘How could you be okay? They took you, Emi. They took you, and I –’
‘I know … but I promise. Everything’s going to be okay. I’m here. I’m not injured. They …’ She bites down hard on the inside of her cheek, internally bracing against the words she is about to whisper. ‘They let me go.’
‘I was so scared. I thought that I’d never be able to tell you …’
His voice trails away as he gulps down tears.
‘Tell me what?’ she whispers, moving away from his chest to stare at his face. He lifts his eyes to meet hers.
‘I-I fucking love you.’
They stare at each other, the space between them completely and utterly still.
‘You what?’
‘I’m still in love with you, Emi. It’s never gone away … I’m not sure it ever will.’
Silence fills the room, the air between them thick with anticipation.
They pause, their eyes meeting, filled with questions. Then he is kissing her frantically, and she breathes him in, her entire body tingling with emotion. Stumbling backwards, she reaches out her hand to feel for the wall, their lips never parting. Breathlessly, she breaks away from him and they race up the stairs, tumbling into her bedroom.
For a moment they pause, staring at each other’s faces. He traces her mouth with his finger, and she is struck by the inevitability of this moment. This was always meant to happen. She was always meant to come back to him.
‘I love you, Emi,’ he whispers.
‘I love you too.’
He kisses her again, and that brief moment of calm dissipates as their hands peel off each other’s clothes. They gasp together, and she digs her nails into his back as he moves above her. She closes her eyes, blocking out the world, blocking out the guilt and horror at what she has done, blocking out everything that has happened or will happen. Right now, there is just him, his ragged breaths, his mouth on her neck, his lips whispering her name.
Right now nobody else exists.
They face each other in bed, their faces just a breath apart in the dark.
‘Don’t leave me again,’ Ciaran whispers. ‘I missed you so much.’
Emilia’s chest tightens, her heart filling and breaking at the same time. There is so much that she wants to tell him. And so much she has to keep secret.
‘Are you on shift tonight?’ she whispers.
‘No … I’ve just finished fourteen hours. I’m meant to be off for three days now, but if another confession comes I’ll have to go in.’
She inches forward, her fingers digging into his back as she tries to be as close to him as she can, as though she will be able to disappear inside him. They settle into a comforting silence, his chest rising and falling with hers.
He lifts his head from her shoulder, his hands moving to cup her face, his long fingers covering the span from her chin and up into her hairline. ‘Do you want to talk about what happened?’
She sighs shakily. ‘Ciaran, I … I just told the police everything I remember, and I want to talk to you about it, but not now.’
‘Of course … I just … When they let you go … that journey back to the police station – what can you remember?’
Her expression shifts, and she feels her skin turn cold, even under the warm comfort of his touch. Has he spoken to Wild and Brennan? Did they tell him that she was reluctant to talk about what happened after they took her away from the Room?
‘I don’t remember anything.’
‘There must be some detail –’
‘Ciaran, I just told you I don’t want to talk about any of this right now.’ She reaches for his hand on her face, covering his fingers with her own. ‘I just need you to be here with me.’
He pauses, his eyes searching her face. ‘Of course. I’m here.’ He pulls her towards him, his hand cupping the nape of her neck, under her hair, and leans his head against hers.
She closes her eyes, listening to the sound of his slow breathing, her runaway heartbeat calming as it regulates in rhythm with his.
‘Is there really nothing you can remember?’
She freezes, the brief sense of calm dissipating instantly as anxiety and panic flood in.
‘Ciaran, I need you to stop.’
‘Emi, please –’
‘No!’ She pushes him away, shrinking away from his arms. ‘All I needed from you right now, in this moment, is your friendship. Your love. Your support. Why can’t you give me that? You know what I’ve been through!’
‘Yes,’ he says, pushing himself off the bed to stare down at her. ‘Yes, I do know what you’ve been through. I was so desperate to catch these people before, you know I was. And now? Now that they took you and made you live through this, after everything you’ve already had to survive? I will catch whoever is doing this if it’s the last thing I fucking do, and I’m sorry that I need to ask you, but I have to!’
‘And I’ve told you, I don’t remember!’
‘Emi, you’re the best detective I know. And I’ve seen you under pressure. I’ve seen you in dangerous situations. You don’t freeze, you don’t crumble … you switch on, everything heightened. More intelligent, more alert. When memory fails, use logic, that’s what we’ve always said. You would remember something! Or you’d be able to piece it together! You’ve always been so good at that – the best!’
‘Well, I don’t remember. And I can’t.’ She looks up at him, her heart breaking as he stares at her aghast. ‘I’m sorry. And I wish there was something more I could give you … But there isn’t.’
He crouches down, his knees creaking as he lowers himself, his face now below hers. He reaches out, his thumb brushing across her bottom lip. ‘Emi – what aren’t you telling me?’
Her skin turns cold. He knows. He knows there’s something wrong.
‘Nothing,’ she mutters. ‘Can you … Can you get me some water, please?’
He stands, sniffing, his nose scrunching up in the way she has always loved. She tells Ciaran everything. She always has. But this? She can’t tell him this.
He retreats, walking backwards, pausing at the door to raise one hand to point at his eye, then down to hover above his heart, then to point directly at her. Their old signal: I love you. He nods and turns away. His steps thud as he trots down the stairs.
She exhales, the tears that she has been suppressing streaming down her face in hot, angry streaks. But she isn’t angry with Ciaran for pushing her when she begged him not to. She doesn’t blame him. She would have done the same if their roles were reversed. And she can’t blame the police. Not even Wild and her forceful questions. She blames herself. For everything she is not saying. For every bit of information and evidence that she is not giving them.
Ciaran reappears at the door, his brow lowering with concern as he takes in her tear-stained face.
‘Are you okay? I’m so sorry I –’
‘I’m just tired.’
‘You go to sleep then,’ he says, placing her water down beside her and climbing into bed, his arm wrapping around her waist. ‘I love you.’
She nods and closes her eyes, listening to his breathing, in sync with hers, trying to focus on the feeling of his hands placed just so on her skin, the feeling she has missed for so long.
But she can’t sleep. Not even with Ciaran’s fingers gently tracing patterns on her back. Not even after his breathing slows, his eyelashes fluttering as he falls into his dreams.
She reaches across to her phone, her focus set on only one thing: the forum.
It shouldn’t be long. Another confession is due now that she and Ryan have been found. And everybody knows it. There are thousands upon thousands of people logged on to the forum. Watching. Waiting.
And Emilia waits with them in the dark, horror turning her stomach over and over as she waits for the sound. If she had said something, if she had told the truth, might they be found? Could she have prevented this? Could she have saved two people from what is to come?
Emilia’s hand flies to her mouth, her stomach turning as what they have all been waiting for finally comes.
The sound of the slamming of a door.
And two more names.