The next morning, when I see that it’s the first of October, it seems like a good omen, the right day to make a fresh start. The first thing I do is check the news and when I hear that a man and woman are helping the police with their inquiries in relation to the Jane Walters murder, I can’t help feeling a grim satisfaction that Rachel too has been arrested.
I never thought I was a vindictive person but I hope she spent a terrifying few hours being grilled by the police about her relationship with Matthew, about the row she had with Jane and about the tea towel containing the knife. She must be dreading her fingerprints being found on the knife. Of course, once I hand in her secret mobile, both she and Matthew will be released because the police will realize that neither of them killed Jane, that the knife they have is simply one Rachel bought in London to scare me with, not the murder weapon. And then what? They’ll live together happily ever after? It doesn’t seem right, and it certainly doesn’t seem fair.
I have a busy day in front of me but first I have a leisurely breakfast, marveling at how good it feels without the threat of a silent call hanging over me. I want to take out a court order to prevent Matthew, and Rachel, from coming anywhere near me once they’re released, so I search on the computer and find that I can apply for a restraining order. Knowing that I’m going to need legal advice at some point, I phone my solicitor and make an appointment to see him at the end of the morning. And then I phone a locksmith and arrange to have the locks changed.
While the locksmith changes the locks, I put Matthew’s belongings into bin bags, trying not to think too much about what I’m doing, about what it means. But it’s still emotionally draining. At twelve o’clock, I drive into Castle Wells with Rachel’s little black phone in my bag and spend an hour and a half with my solicitor, who tells me something I hadn’t realized: thanks to the text messages, Matthew can be charged in relation to my “overdose.” When I leave, I drive to Rachel’s and dump the bin bags containing Matthew’s clothes outside her front door. And then I drive to the police station and ask to speak to PC Lawson. She isn’t available but PC Thomas is, so I hand him Rachel’s mobile and tell him what I told my solicitor, that I found it in my car that morning.
Physically and mentally exhausted, I drive home. I’m surprised at how hungry I am so I find a tin of tomato soup and have it with some toast. Then I wander around the house, feeling at a loss, wondering how I’m going to be able to move on when I’ve lost both my husband and my best friend. I feel so low, so depressed, that the temptation to sink to my knees and cry my eyes out is overpowering. But I don’t give in to it.
I turn on the television to catch the six o’clock news. There’s nothing about Matthew and Rachel having been released but when the phone starts ringing shortly after, I realize that nothing has changed, that the same crippling fear is still there. As I walk through to the hall I remind myself that this can’t be a silent call but when I lift the receiver and see that the number is withheld, I feel numb with disbelief.
My fingers fumble as I take the call.
“Cass? It’s Alex.”
“Alex?” Relief washes over me. “You gave me a fright! Did you know your number comes up as withheld?”
“Does it? I’m sorry, I didn’t know. Look, I hope you don’t mind me phoning you—I got your number from the card you sent me after Jane died—but I’ve just had a call from the police. They have Jane’s murderer in custody. It’s over, Cass, it’s finally over.” His voice is heavy with emotion.
I try to find the right words but my mind is reeling with shock. “That’s wonderful, Alex, I’m so pleased for you.”
“I know, I can’t believe it. When I heard yesterday that two people were helping the police with their inquiries I didn’t dare get my hopes up.”
“So is it one of them, then?” I ask, knowing that it can’t be.
“I don’t know, the police didn’t say. They’re sending someone round to see me. I’m probably not meant to be telling anyone but I wanted you to know. After what you told me on Monday, I thought it might put your mind at rest.”
“Thank you, Alex, it’s great news, it really is. Will you let me know what happens?”
“Yes, of course. Well, goodbye Cass. I hope you’ll be able to sleep easier tonight.”
“You too.”
I hang up, stunned at what he’s just told me. If the police have Jane’s murderer in custody, Matthew and Rachel must have been released. So who has confessed? Did the murderer have a crisis of conscience when he heard that two people had been arrested? Maybe someone was harboring him—his mum, his girlfriend—and they decided to turn him in. It seems the most logical explanation.
I’m so on edge that I can’t sit still. Where are Matthew and Rachel? Are they back at Rachel’s flat, have they found the bin bags with Matthew’s clothes inside? Or are they on their way here, to collect the rest of his things? His laptop, work bag, toothbrush, razor—they are all still here. Glad to have something to do, I go around the house gathering them together, putting everything in a box, wanting to be prepared in case they do turn up, because I don’t want to have to let them in.
Night falls but I don’t go upstairs to bed. I wish Alex had phoned back to tell me who killed Jane. He must know by now. I should feel safer with the murderer in custody but there are too many doubts clouding my mind. The air reeks of unease. It shrinks the walls of the house; they close in around me and squeeze the breath from my lungs.