It’s been running through my brain all day. One question. Over and over.
What happens next?
I’ve tried to play out the different scenarios. Maybe a fine for using InCheck? Maybe jail time? Gross negligence or manslaughter?
I’ve thought of running so many times, but Lisa’s face keeps stopping me. I need to know the truth about what happened to her. I must get to the heart of what really happened in this godforsaken town.
If I look at it with a neutral hat on, it’s karma at its finest. You can’t go around impersonating a trained professional—and examine people’s deepest thoughts and feelings—and think you’ll get away with it. Karma always wins.
Of all the things that life throws at you, handouts isn’t one of them.
I wipe down the whiteboard, watching the rules of English tenses disappear. It reminds me of something else I need to erase from my life. InCheck.
It doesn’t matter how I look at it, but I just can’t justify using it anymore. Fred and Susana will be fine. They’ll find themselves genuine counsellors, and move on with their lives.
When the last student leaves the class—taught my Greg, not me—I sit down at the desk. I lean forward and cradle my head in my arms.
“You all right?”
Greg’s voice cuts through the silence.
I glance up at him, massaging my temples. “Feel a headache coming on.”
“Chickening out of drinks already, then?”
He’s grinning and seems awfully cheerful, considering how he’s avoided me since I arrived in this town. Maybe he’s truly clueless about the investigation and is just following Neil’s orders.
“I think I’ll take a rain check on the drinks,” I say.
There’s a glimmer of surprise on Greg’s face. “Oh, that bad?”
“Yeah,” I say, getting up. “I think I’ll go home and lie down.”
What I’ll actually be doing is going straight home to go over those last two InCheck transcripts with Neil. The more information we have to work with, the sooner we can conclude this investigation.
The sooner I can get out of here.
I’m about to leave when I hear Greg’s voice again. “I’ll walk you out.”
As we walk down the hallway towards the street, I look around for Charlotte. “She’s gone home already,” he says.
“She wasn’t going to join us for drinks?” I ask.
Greg holds the door open for me. “But we’re not going for drinks anymore, remember?”
As we step outside, the sun is unexpectedly bright. It quickly turns my made-up headache from a few moments ago into an actual one. We walk in silence for a while.
“I’m over here,” Greg says, pointing up the street.
“Me too,” I say.
“Aren’t you down the road?”
I point towards the hill. “I like the route through the trees.”
Greg looks like he’s just stepped in something. But there’s that flicker of courtesy, or curiosity, that makes him smile. We labour up the hill together.
“So how do you get around in South Africa?” Greg asks, breathing heavily.
“What do you mean?”
“I heard you guys don’t use public transport there.”
“It depends who you ask,” I say on a breath. “Some people take the bus every day, and some drive.”
“What about trains? Metros?”
I can’t believe we’re talking about public transport when we could be talking about Lisa.
“We don’t really use them,” I say.
“I hate metros,” Greg says. “Back in London, I took the tube every day. Getting across the city could take you two hours on some days.”
We’re nearly at the end of the road. “I can’t imagine that.”
“Ask anyone from London and they’ll tell you the same,” he says, looking around. “So this place is… refreshing.”
From up here, the ocean stretches out endlessly, the mountains behind us green and glorious. The air is ripe with the salty tang of the sea, and it makes me think of summer holidays.
“What’s the pull?” I ask as we stop to take in the scenery and catch our breaths. “Of Gexta?”
Greg shrugs. “Seclusion, maybe?”
I give him a sideways glance. He’s still staring out at the landscape.
“I’m sure there are downsides to a small place like this,” I say. “Everyone knows everyone’s business.”
Greg nods, saying nothing.
“Like what you get up to,” I say. “Who you hang out with.”
He turns on his heels, ready to walk again. I inhale and say, “At least you had Lisa, right?”
Greg stops. There’s a moment of silence, and then he turns to me, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. His face is deadpan. “I didn’t know her.”
“I think we both know that’s not true.”
His brow furrows, and I continue. “You know who I’m staying with, right? Deborah told me you knew Lisa. You guys were friends.”
He mulls this over, chewing on the corner of his lip. “So why are you asking me then?”
“Why did you lie?”
“Can we stop with the games, please?” he says, his voice agitated. “I know you’re part of an investigation. You shouldn’t even be talking to me about this.”
Finally, some truth.
“I was wondering when you’d bring that up,” I say, struggling to keep my voice even. “If you know I’m part of the investigation, why are you even talking to me?”
He looks confused. “What do you mean?”
“Neil told you not to talk to me, right?”
He looks past my shoulder into the distance. “No more than necessary.”
“But here you are,” I say. “You were even going to have drinks with me. Why would you do that?”
He leans forward, his voice gruff. “I’m trying to cooperate, okay? And I have. I helped create this bogus teaching job for you.” He brings a hand to his temple. “I thought this whole investigation was over with already.”
“So why did you stop cooperating?”
Greg looks down at his feet, his nostrils flaring.
“You were curious,” I say.
He looks up. “Yeah.”
“Me too,” I say. “So why lie to me about knowing Lisa?”
Greg takes a breath. “I panicked, okay?” The back of his neck is turning red. “But yes, I knew her. We were friends.”
“A bit more than friends, from what I’ve heard.”
It’s like I’m holding a match, about to burn a bridge I might need. But something’s got to give. Someone needs to start telling the truth.
Greg locks his hands behind his neck and rolls his head back against them. “I didn’t know her well. So it’s not really that much of a lie.”
“We hung out,” he says. “While I was taking Spanish classes. And yeah, I fancied her, alright? I also knew she was getting married, but…” He shakes his head. “Her bloke was a twat. She was clearly bored.”
“How was he a twat?”
“Well for one, he was never around,” Greg says. “And if you met Lisa, she’s not exactly low maintenance. Anyways, he wanted to get into a fight. Nearly hit me.”
“He wanted to hit you?”
He nods. “I was a bit tipsy and made a move on her. He found out and wanted to have a go at me. Which I would have done too, to be fair.” He takes a breath. “But something just seemed off about him. You must have seen him around, right? He’s suspicious. And Lisa also once—”
He cuts off abruptly.
“What?” I ask. “She once what?”
Greg closes his eyes. “Ah, fuck sakes.”
“What?”
“I don’t want to get into this. It’s none of my business.”
“But this could help with the investigation,” I say. “If there’s anything that might have been overlooked, it could—”
“How are you involved, anyway?” Greg asks, his tone turning accusatory. “I still don’t know why you’re here, or why we had to make up this teaching job. It’s freaking people out. Charlotte doesn’t know what to do about it.”
I open my mouth, then close it. There’s no reason for him to believe anything I say, and do I really want to tell him why I’m here? About InCheck? It’s better I don’t.
“It’s complicated,” I say. “I’m legally not allowed to tell you.”
He shakes his head. “Look—I’m not debating what happened. It doesn’t matter what issues Lisa had with her bloke, but she called me one night. This was a while after we started hanging out. She was…” He swallows hard. “Hysterical.”
I feel a knot forming in my stomach.
“She called and was talking a bunch of gibberish,” Greg continues. “Telling me she misses me, that I’m her only friend, things like that.”
“Did she say anything else?”
He breathes deeply again. “She said something about catching him. Her bloke, I’m guessing. She said he was a liar. She was beside herself about it.”
Greg’s words dance around in my head. What could her fiancé have lied to her about? What did she catch him doing?
“Did you tell the police?” I ask.
Greg brings a hand to his face. “No. I should have, but it felt stupid. Half of what she said made no sense, and Lisa was dramatic. Honestly, I just wanted to put it behind me.”
I take a breath. “When was this?”
He frowns into the sun. “A few days before she went missing.”
“You should have told the police.”
“I know, okay?” He sighs. “Look, I don’t know why you’re here. And yes, I’m an idiot for not telling anyone then. But I’m telling you now. And just so you know, I don’t think everyone told the police the truth about Lisa, either.”
“What do you mean?”
Greg shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I barely knew her, but she didn’t look suicidal. She still laughed and cared a lot about stuff. I didn’t think she was unhappier than most girls I knew.”
“You can’t see depression like that,” I tell him.
But Greg keeps shaking his head. “I don’t know. When the police said it was suicide, I couldn’t believe it. I still don’t. Someone else—like that bloke of hers—could have had a hand in it. It happens, right?”
My stomach tightens. “What does?”
He takes a breath. “People killing their other halves. Love gone bad.”