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It took the three men exactly four minutes to reach the park.
Tom sprinted towards the fallen body, and Jonathan watched Leatherby pull out his mobile and call for an ambulance.
Jonathan couldn’t see Rachel, but as he peered towards the playground his eyes found the bright red treehouse that sat in the middle of the park. A woman was sitting in the entrance, at the top of the ladder. He did a double take: even at this distance he could see Marek’s achievement. He wouldn’t have recognised her if she’d been standing next to him.
He walked towards her, and slowly climbed up the ladder that was made for small children. He perched on the rung below her.
‘Are you all right? Your neck’s bleeding. Come down, Rachel, please.’
‘It’s nothing. I’m OK,’ she said, putting up a hand to shield her face.
He noticed the smooth skin. Marek had even taken care of the ugly scar. He reached upwards and gently moved her hand, and Rachel allowed him to.
‘I like your new look.’ He looked into different but somehow familiar features. ‘We’ve found out quite a few things recently ... apart from you having a bit of a makeover. I think I might know about most of them. I’m hoping there aren’t any more surprises.’
Jonathan tried to gauge her emotional state, of which he could only imagine. ‘Did Hemmings spill everything before he killed himself?’
She nodded. ‘He told me Sam killed my son; that it wasn’t him, and I believe him. I’m trying to still hate him, loathe him, but I can’t.’ She looked at Jonathan. ‘I need to tell you something ... about Margaret.’
Softly, he interrupted her. ‘Later, Rachel, we’ll talk about this later.’
‘Why did Sam kill Joe?’ she said, almost to herself.
‘I don’t think we know the full story, but now’s not the time to talk about it,’ he said gently. He didn’t want to tell her more than was needed, not until he himself knew exactly what was happening.
‘Now is the perfect time to talk about it,’ she said.
Jonathan looked towards the perimeter of the playground fence and heard the oncoming ambulances and police cars. He looked over towards Tom, who was sitting beside Hemmings’ body, wondering how the detective would explain this ‘off the record’ assignment away.
Rachel sensed his thoughts. ‘Did Tom get involved without the force?’
‘Yes, but not now. Now it’s official.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘You’ve done nothing, Rachel. It’s fine.’
‘I would have killed him.’
‘No, you wouldn’t.’
‘I wanted to text you,’ she said.
He smiled at her. ‘You did?’
‘I did. I couldn’t, no mobile. But I wanted to.’ She paused. ‘Do I look very different?’
‘Not very.’
‘You’re lying.’
‘Only a little.’
‘I don’t want you to lie to me.’
‘I won’t.’ Jonathan rummaged in the depths of his inside jacket pocket, and pulled out a crushed packet of ten Marlboro. He took one out and offered it to her.
‘No thanks.’
‘Good decision, probably.’
She smiled a shattered smile. He threw the cigarette and the packet onto the ground.
‘We need to get you to the hospital.’
Rachel nodded and took his hand. ‘I’m so tired.’
He held hers tight.