Thursday 01:00
I’ve switched on the light, but several seconds later, I still can’t believe who it is I’m staring down at on the floor of my ex-wife’s childhood bedroom.
Priya’s nose is bleeding as a result of me slamming the door in her face. She’s a quivering mess, slumped against the wall, but I feel suspicion rather than sympathy.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I told you not to leave your sister’s house. You don’t seem to understand that you are now a suspect in your own murder investigation.”
“I do understand that, which is why I have to find out who is trying to frame me. You didn’t answer my question. How did you know I was here?”
“I followed you.”
I know when I’m being followed. There was nobody else on the streets when I drove here; she’s lying. My mind rushes through the last few days: the evidence planted in my car, the text messages on Rachel’s phone, the constant feeling of being watched. Then I think about my sister, lying in a bath full of red water. I’m sure my missing house keys were in my jacket, the one Priya hung up on the fancy-looking coatrack in her hall.
She could have taken them, before she randomly disappeared earlier tonight.
“Does anyone else know that you’re here?” I ask, and she shakes her head. “You just left without telling anyone where you were going? You’re meant to be heading up the investigation now that I’ve had to stand aside.”
“I was worried about you. I didn’t know what to do. I trust you, but the way you took your sister’s car and left the scene like that … well, it looks really bad. People are starting to … say things. I thought if I could just find you and bring you back—”
“That still doesn’t explain how you knew where I’d be.”
I crouch down until my face is right in front of hers.
“What are you doing?” she asks with a small voice and big eyes.
“Relax. I’m just trying to see if your nose is broken; stay still.”
A fresh trickle of blood escapes from her right nostril. Then she shakes her head, and it’s as though the apology falls out of her mouth.
“Sorry, sir. I just keep getting things wrong.”
I’m appalled with myself when she starts to cry. She looks like a frightened little girl, and I did this to her. I don’t want Priya to be scared of me, and her tears shift my perspective, offering a different view. Maybe I’m wrong. I feel like a paranoid old fool. Her body flinches as I reach inside my pocket, but her face attempts a smile when I offer her a clean hanky.
“You do know I’m not involved in any of this, don’t you? I wouldn’t harm my sister. I wouldn’t hurt anyone,” I say. She touches her nose and winces in pain. I take her silent point. “I didn’t know who was coming up the stairs. I’m sorry. I would never knowingly hurt you. I think whoever killed the others might want to kill Anna too. I came here trying to find her, but the house is empty. Someone smashed the glass in the door downstairs. Maybe Anna realized how much danger she was in, and took her mum somewhere safe.”
“I take it you’ve tried calling her?” Priya asks.
“Several times,” I say, before helping her up.
I find my mobile and try Anna again, but it goes straight to voicemail just like it did before. Either she has switched off her phone, or someone else has.
“There’s something I need to tell you,” Priya says, and I try not to react even though it feels like a small bomb just went off inside my head. “One of the uniformed officers recognized the unidentified girl in the picture we found at your house. Swears he knew her when they were both kids. Says she was called Catherine Kelly. Does that name mean anything to you?”
It doesn’t, but then I’ve never been great with names.
“No.”
“We know that she is married now, and we think she lives in London, but we still don’t have a current address. When she lived here, it was with her parents at a property within Blackdown Woods. It used to be a gamekeeper’s lodge a hundred years ago, but from what I understand it’s derelict these days. Her parents died, and it has been empty since.”
“Maybe it’s worth checking out?” I say.
“I think so too, but like you said, this is my investigation now. If we go, I think we should go together.”
I decide it might be nice not to have to do this alone.
“Yes, boss,” I reply, and she smiles.
We make our way downstairs in silence, as though both regathering our thoughts.
We’re almost at the bottom step when I hear something.
There is a second door in the kitchen, which leads to a little lean-to built on the side of the house. Anna’s mother used it as a garage in the past—when she was still driving—but it’s more of a storage space now, I guess. Somewhere to keep all her home-grown organic vegetables. I can hear someone creeping around in there, and I know Priya hears them too.
I indicate for her to get behind me, and tiptoe to the door. I fling it open and find the light, then see a pair of startled eyes staring back at me. A large fox takes one more bite from what looks like a bag of carrots, then flees through a small hole in the wall.
Priya laughs and so do I—we need to do something to ease the tension.
“What’s this?” she asks.
I smile at the old white van that Anna’s mum used to drive when she still had the cleaning business. She only retired a couple of years ago—took some persuading—but I doubt the van would even start now. There are bumblebees painted all over the side, along with a logo: Busy Bees Professional Cleaning Services.
“My mother-in-law used to clean for half the village,” I say.
“I would never have guessed,” Priya replies, staring at all the boxes and mess as we step back inside the house.
“She’s not been well,” I explain, meaning the dementia.
“I did notice the cancer drugs in the kitchen. They were the same ones my mother had to take, not that they helped.” She reads my expression without me having to say anything. “I’m so sorry, I presumed you knew.”
I didn’t.
“We should get going,” Priya says, and I know she’s right.
We head out toward the car, and the empty street is in complete darkness. I wonder whether Anna knows about her mum, and then I worry again about where they both might be now. My mind wanders back to the cameraman and his criminal record. I have Richard’s number in my phone; having thoroughly checked him out there isn’t much I don’t know about him. He’s married to another BBC News anchor, and they have a couple of kids, but that doesn’t mean anything. On the off chance that he and Anna are still together, or that he might know where she is, I call him.
I hear his phone ringing.
But not just on the other end of the line, it’s right next to me, as though he is here in Anna’s mother’s garden.
It’s too dark to see anything, so I hang up and fumble to find the flashlight function on my mobile again. When I turn it on, I see that Priya is holding a phone that does not belong to her.