Deborah’s in the kitchen when I go back inside. The wine bottle is still on the countertop next to her, and she immediately sees the glass in my hand. Her eyes widen.
“Tough day,” I say, tired of pretending.
She nods. Walking over to the fridge, she takes out a fresh bottle of red. “Want a refill?”
I look down at my empty glass. There’s been enough guilt for one day. And if I have another glass, I know I’ll regret it tomorrow. Plus, I need to be sober—or try to be—for what comes next.
I shake my head and walk over to the sink, pouring a glass of water. I take a sip and think of what my mother told me only minutes ago.
I can see how much this hurts you. I love you. Please come home.
It’s like someone’s hollowed me out and left me in the sun. I just feel empty. Incapable.
Neil will ask me what I remember from that night with Lisa, and I’ll have to tell him the truth. I remain the prime suspect. And probably the culprit, too.
I’ll need to tell him I confronted Sebastian. The one person who sits exactly with the same guilt as I do.
Everything works against me. Sebastian has an alibi. There were no bruises found on Lisa’s neck. And when she spoke to me in her last moments, I’d had too much to drink and couldn’t remember everything.
But I’ll tell Neil the truth.
And then I’ll burn for it. For Lisa’s life, for my acts of fraud on InCheck. Here or there or anywhere. It feels impossible.
“Do you want something to eat?”
I almost forgot Deborah’s still here, looking at me oddly.
“I’m good,” I say. “Thank you.”
“Do you want to… talk about it?”
I look at her, her eyes confused. I shrug and nod, moving to the couch. She follows me and sits down as I lay back against the headrest.
I bring my hands to my temples. “It’s a long story.”
“I’ve got time,” she says.
My eyes scan the house. It’s just us. Where’s Neil?
I look at her, this woman who’s pretending to live a normal life, and wonder if we could share each other’s pain.
“I’ve realised something,” I say. “I thought I could just leave things behind in South Africa. But that was wrong. Because they just followed me here. To Gexta.”
She leans back, her expression still perplexed. “What things?”
I shrug, feeling like I’m in therapy again. “We can be honest with each other, right?” I look directly at her and she stiffens slightly. “We know more about each other than we’re telling.”
She raises an eyebrow as if she’s somehow not surprised. “What do you know?”
“A lot less than you know about me, I think.”
My head is still leaning against the headrest, and there’s a vague nausea in the pit of my stomach. Deborah sits forward. “Look love, I think you’ve had a bad night. Maybe you should—”
There’s a sound. Di-di-ding. And then again. Di-di-ding.
Something clicks in my head. I’ve heard that sound somewhere before.
“Bollocks,” Deborah says. “One second.”
She gets up and darts to the island, pulling her handbag closer. Across the room I watch her, my brain racing at 100 miles an hour.
Di-di-ding. Di-di-ding.
Deborah pulls her phone from her handbag and jabs at it with her thumb, and the sound stops. But it’s too late.
My mind is transported back to that night with Lisa.