by Sarah Hilary
His stare reached into the corner of the room. ‘Where are they?’
‘They’re safe. You want that, I know. You want them to be safe.’ Her left shoulder took the brunt of his stare, bruisingly hard. ‘I’d like a paramedic to make sure they’re okay. And you too. I need to be sure everyone’s okay.’
‘Everything’s fine. I wanted you to see that. You can go now.’ Dust rose like smoke behind him. ‘I’ll look after everything.’
‘I know you will, but I need to do my job. It’s my job to be sure everyone’s safe.’
‘No. That’s my job.’ That smile again. ‘The children are my job.’
Movement behind her, in the corner of the room. Feet scuffing at the floor.
Harm’s stare shoved at her shoulder, wanting to get past.
‘Mr Marsh. Calum. I need you to stay calm.’
‘I am calm.’ Breathing through his nose, the smile like a long splinter in his face. ‘This is my place. This is my family. Let me take care of it.’
Six months ago, Marnie had been trapped in an enclosed space with a dangerous man. Raging, grieving for his family. She’d thought that was frightening, but it was nothing like this. That man could be reasoned with. His pain had a shape she’d recognised. Harm had buried his pain too well.
‘Let me take care of my family,’ he repeated.
‘I can’t do that. I’m sorry. I can help you to do that. But too many people have been hurt already, and it’s my job to make sure no one else gets hurt. You understand that.’
‘Loz.’ He put his tongue to his top lip, showing the red inside of his mouth. ‘Come out here.’
Marnie put a hand behind her, warning Loz not to move. ‘Stay where you are.’
Harm’s head reared back, his eyes like discs in the half-dark. ‘This is my house.’ Bubbles of froth between his teeth. ‘My rules.’
‘But it’s not your house, is it? This place belongs to a property developer. The house in Chiswick belongs to you.’ She held his stare despite its heat. ‘Why did you move here?’
‘Safer …’
‘It is safer,’ she agreed. ‘We want these children to be safe. You and I want the same thing. To make this a safe place. So let me open the door and get help.’
‘I don’t need any help.’ He took a step closer. ‘Why would you think I need that?’
‘Christie needs help.’ Marnie pointed to the body on the floor. ‘Doesn’t she deserve help? She was looking after the children with you.’
‘Not all of them.’ Did he have a punctured lung? The heat coming off him smelt sulphurous. ‘She didn’t look after Ashleigh.’
‘Tell me about Ashleigh.’
‘No.’
‘Then tell me about your sister, Neve. You didn’t want these girls to be like her, living on the streets. Lost …’
A laugh barked out of him. If he was afraid, or feeling threatened or isolated, it wasn’t enough. Not for Marnie to work with. No foothold for her here. She was close to being too late.
‘Talk to me. About your family. Tell me what you need to make this better.’
‘I made a mistake letting you in here.’ His face closed up. ‘I wanted you to see what good care I was taking of these children, but you don’t see. Anything. Tell you about Neve! You don’t see anything. It’s better you go now.’
As if he’d thought he could make her understand. But about what – May and Ashleigh? Or his sister? All that time Marnie was searching for May … Who had searched for Neve? And why did they fail to find her?
‘Grace is safe,’ Marnie said. ‘She told us how you helped her. She’s grateful.’
‘And you think I’m a killer.’ His voice dropped, softening. ‘Isn’t that the truth?’
Was this how he’d trapped these children? With his soft words and rhetoric, making you think – no, making you feel he understood, everything unmuddled, the world no longer rocking around you. Restoring order with his rules, smoothing all the rough edges. No splinters, nothing to catch your feet or fingers, the whole world wrapped in duct tape, made safe.
‘Two girls are dead,’ Marnie said. ‘May Beswick and Ashleigh Jewell. Two girls whose families are grieving, like your family did. Like you grieved.’
‘Christie was dangerous,’ as if he was agreeing with her, ‘but that’s taken care of.’
‘Who took care of it?’ She matched her voice to his, mirroring the body language. ‘You?’
‘Eric.’ Smiling again. ‘But it was an accident. A misunderstanding.’
Misunderstanding. That smile …
Stephen had smiled like that.
And Calum Marsh was lying.
He’d told them that he never saw Grace walk into the road that night, but he’d been out looking for her. That was why his son was dead, and May and Ashleigh. A misunderstanding.
‘How did it happen?’
‘You’ll have to ask Eric.’ Showing his empty hands, sure of his powers of persuasion.
He’d wanted Marnie in here. To listen to his alibi, plant a seed of doubt in her head. He was so sure of his powers of persuasion, so used to being believed, and obeyed. Christie as a double murderer. Eric as her murderer. Leaving Calum the untarnished hero of the story.
‘Eric didn’t put May in that flat. And it wasn’t Christie either. You told Jamie Ledger you wanted to make the world a cleaner place. Well, May’s death wasn’t clean. It tore a filthy great hole in her family’s life. Dead bodies are never clean. Dead bodies are chaos, mess. They make the world a worse place. Dangerous, dirty. Death is the opposite of order, the opposite of clean.’
‘Hers wasn’t.’ His eyes like discs again. ‘Her life was like that before I found her. She was unhappy, in pain. I made her better. If you saw her, you know that. She was quiet, clean …’
‘Look at Christie.’ Marnie pointed at the body on the floor. ‘Does that look clean to you? Does it look quiet?’
‘Move.’ He spoke softly, as if he’d been indulging her but that had to stop now. ‘Out of my way.’
He wouldn’t look at Christie, his stare fixed on the corner of the room where Loz and Eric were huddled. Marnie had lost. She’d tried, and she’d lost.
‘I know you’re upset. You’ve been upset since Logan died. Your son would want you to—’
‘No.’ He flexed his hands at his sides, his face shutting her out as effectively as if he’d turned his back. ‘Move out of my way.’
‘There are armed officers outside that door.’ Her breath was stacked in her chest like bricks. ‘This is a very serious, very dangerous situation. You have put these children in serious danger. Loz is in danger. You need to stand down. Now.’
‘Wrong. You’re wrong. I took care of her sister and I’ll take care of her—’
The corner erupted behind Marnie, a body streaking past before she could stop it, her hand grabbing at nothing, at white cotton and a whiter face, the flash of something sharp in his hand—
Landing on Harm like a sprung tiger.
Eric Mackay, going for the man’s throat with a broken light bulb.
‘Carter!’ Marnie shoved at the dressing table, but it was too heavy. ‘Carter!’
Harm swung Eric by the scruff of his neck, the boy’s bare feet hitting the dressing table with a crack. Crunching, savage – and Marnie was breathing in blood, a wet spray of it from Harm’s face as he swung the boy at the wall, not letting go of his neck.
She put her weight into the dressing table, another set of hands helping her – Loz pushing with her until Rex Carter shouted for them to stand back.
Marnie grabbed Loz, ducking the pair of them out of the way as the SFO team powered into the room, taking down the hot mess that was Harm and Eric, the boy glued to the man’s body, his hand grinding the broken bulb into Harm’s throat.
Marnie turned away, shielding Loz with her arms.
The whole room stank of blood.
More dragging, sucking, Rex’s team trying to prise the pair apart.
‘Don�
�t look.’ She held Loz tight. ‘Don’t look.’
Feet on the floor, slowing. Stopping.
A thin chime of glass fragments, falling.
Marnie stayed crouched with the girl in her arms until the long silence was broken by the sound of Loz sobbing.
67
The light in the interview room exaggerated Eric Mackay’s cheekbones and the sooty length of his eyelashes. A paper jumpsuit swamped his slight body, a dressing on his right hand where the wire and glass had split his skin. He shrank from the light, his eyes shutting in protest. Too frail and pretty to be a killer, but he’d finished what he’d started. Calum Marsh had died at the scene from blood loss, his throat lacerated by the broken lightbulb.
Eric’s appropriate adult was a thin-faced man in a cheap suit and shovel-toed shoes, with a lick of yellow hair and a sunken mouth that suggested he wasn’t going to speak unless he had to.
‘Can you tell me what happened earlier today?’ Marnie asked the boy.
‘We got what we deserved.’ A crack in his voice, as if he hadn’t used it in a long time.
‘Who did?’
‘Me and him. Both of us. It’s what we deserved.’ He ducked his head away from the light, but he looked at her when she didn’t speak. Extraordinary eyes, and that heart-shaped face. She could see where Aimee had come from. ‘I’ll go to prison, that’s fine. That’s good.’
‘Good?’
‘The same. Better. No Harm.’ He moved his hands on the metal table, putting them in the way of the light as if he was afraid she might not see them otherwise. Harm’s blood was in his nail beds.
‘Tell me why.’
‘He killed her. May. He killed our baby. And Loz. He would’ve killed Loz.’
‘Her life was in danger. That’s what you believed?’
‘All our lives. You saw. We were all going to die up there.’
Marnie waited, then she said, ‘And Christie? What happened to Christie?’
‘I did it. She was … Self-defence.’
‘How?’
‘She’d have killed us. She killed Ashleigh, that’s what she said when she was dying. She killed Ashleigh, for him.’ Eric blinked. ‘She’d have killed the lot of us for him.’
When he blinked, Marnie could see Aimee. It was like an optical illusion, one of those pictures that was simultaneously an old woman and a young girl. Did he miss his disguise? He’d need a new one for prison. How many did he have? He’d have to learn how to hide all over again.
He moved his cracked lips. ‘You said he had a son.’
‘Logan, yes.’
‘When he died … that’s when he killed May?’
‘I’m not sure it’s that simple. You were with him for a while. Why do you think it happened?’
‘He was … insane.’ His eyes shivered with unshed tears. ‘It was my fault. I should never have touched her. I made her keep my secret, and our secret. It was too much.’
‘Was she unhappy?’
‘No. No. She was excited, we both were. We wanted the baby. I even thought he might want it.’
‘You thought Harm might want your baby?’
‘He was hurting, I knew he was hurting.’ Eric looked down at his hands. ‘He wasn’t just a nutter. I felt sorry for him, until Loz told me what he’d done.’
Marnie waited a moment. ‘You said Christie confessed to killing Ashleigh. How sure are you that Harm killed May?’
‘It was him.’ His hands flinched. ‘Christie was home with us when it happened. The night May left. Christie was with us. She can’t have killed her.’
‘And the following night, when Ashleigh was killed? Did you see how it happened?’
He shook his head. ‘I was in bed.’
‘You didn’t see anything that might make you a witness to either murder?’
‘I saw him. Right from the start, I knew what he was. Just like May saw me.’ Blinking at his hands on the table. ‘She saw me. He killed her because of that.’
‘May found a way out of that building. So did Grace. Couldn’t you have left with them?’
‘I was scared. Aimee … was scared.’
‘But you’re Eric.’
‘Only with her. Only … now.’
He’d worn his disguise too well, lost himself inside it. Who was he really? Joel had spoken of risk-taking, casual sex with strangers. Just as Jodie had described a version of Grace that no longer fitted the girl who’d escaped from Harm. They’d played roles for that man, and the roles had reduced them. Eric Mackay had loved to dance in the rain. Now he was a killer.
‘He taught us all about survival.’ The boy’s eyes were wet. ‘But none of his tricks counted for anything in the end. I used to think he was strong, invincible. But I killed him with a piece of glass. He was … nothing. I thought I was scared. But he was terrified. Of living. Of being who he was.’ He clenched his hands together. ‘His heart was like this. Like a fist. Like a stone. May …’ He opened his hands slowly, spreading his palms on the table, facing upwards under the light. ‘Her heart was like this. I was scared it would make her weak. I warned her to hate him. Hate everyone, be afraid of everything. But she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. She was braver than the rest of us – than anyone. Like Loz, like her sister. She stopped me doing worse. Before you came, I mean.’
He raised his eyes to Marnie. ‘That’s how I kept us alive. You should tell her that. Tell Loz that she’s the one who saved us. The brave one. Just like her sister.’
‘How was it?’ Noah asked.
‘He’s ready to go to prison for killing Calum, and Christie. He says he was afraid for his life, and Loz’s.’
‘Loz says the same. I didn’t ask her any questions, I know we need to wait, but she insisted on telling me. Christie was going to kill them, she’s sure of it. She’s blaming herself, because she told Calum that Aimee was Eric.’ Noah paused. ‘Her parents are with her.’
‘Good. I need to speak with them.’ Marnie turned her head when she heard her name.
Joe Eaton was standing in the hospital corridor. ‘Ruth’s here for a check-up. I heard you found her. The girl from the crash. Grace, is it?’
‘Yes.’ Marnie walked to where he was waiting. ‘She’s here, in fact.’
‘In the hospital? Can I see her?’
‘Can you …?’ The request surprised her. ‘I’m not sure. You could ask.’
‘I’d like to see her, if it’s allowed. She’s okay, isn’t she?’
‘Yes, she is.’
‘I keep seeing her.’ Joe tapped his head. ‘Up here. I thought if I could see her for real … Only if she’s okay. I hope she’s okay?’
‘She’s in good hands.’
‘Good.’ Joe nodded. ‘I’m glad.’ He headed back down the corridor.
Noah watched him go. ‘Who’s helping Grace?’
‘Social Services, I imagine.’
Noah nodded, looking impossibly sad. ‘And Eric?’
‘Juvenile detention. With luck he’ll find a decent defence lawyer.’ She touched a hand to his elbow. ‘You did a great job, connecting Logan to Paradise House. Without that we might still be looking for them. Good work.’
‘There was Ledger’s phone call,’ Noah reminded her.
‘Ledger didn’t give me the inside track on what was happening in Calum’s head.’ She kept her hand on his arm until he smiled, accepting the praise. ‘That was down to you connecting the dots.’
‘It was down to Loz,’ Noah said. ‘I just followed her search history.’
‘I’ll tell her you said so.’
68
Loz was in a private room with her parents. Sean and Katrina sat close, holding their daughter’s hands, their faces wiped clean with relief, and love.
‘We’re waiting for the doctor,’ Sean told Marnie.
‘He means the psychiatrist.’ Loz swung her feet from the side of the hospital bed. ‘There’s nothing wrong with me, nothing physical, but I might have PTSD or some shit like that.’
Sean squeezed her fingers, managing to smile. He put his free arm around Katrina, who leaned closer, returning his smile. They looked ready to drop, but happy.
Loz looked wide awake, her bright stare sweeping the room. She was doing a good job of disguising her distress, but Marnie wasn’t fooled. Less than two hours earlier she’d held the girl in her arms, listened to her sobbing, felt her heart thumping through her skin.
‘I was hoping for a quick word with Loz before the psychiatrist shows up.’
‘A statement, you mean?’ Katrina looked up. ‘We want to be with her for that.’
‘You will be. No, this is informal. I wanted to thank her for her courage.’
Loz flushed. ‘Thanks,’ but her tone said, Shut up.
‘Would it be all right if we chatted for a couple of minutes? No longer than that, I promise.’
‘Loz?’ Sean stroked the back of her hand with his fingers. ‘Would that be okay?’
‘Sure.’ She swung her feet, nodding. ‘Yes.’
Marnie waited until Sean and Katrina had gone. Then she took a seat at the side of the bed.
‘Before you ask,’ Loz said, ‘they’re not abusing me.’
‘Why would I ask that?’
‘Because of the sketches. Because the sketches made you wonder and you never found out why May left and because we don’t hug.’ Loz tipped her head at the linoleum floor. ‘We’re not tactile.’
‘Plenty of families aren’t tactile.’
‘There you go then. We’re normal. No good reason for her to leave, or for me to leave.’ Swinging her feet determinedly. ‘Lots of people have it worse than us. That’s what the school keeps saying.’
Marnie sat very still, waiting for Loz to catch the different rhythm in the room and slow down.
‘So, no abuse. No mad rules. They can be a bit strict sometimes, but that’s how stuff gets done. May understood that. She didn’t run away. She ran to him. Eric. Because she was in love.’ Her voice said that abuse made more sense as a motive. ‘This was a love story.’ Her stare landed on Marnie, blackly. ‘In other words, I’ll be okay. I’m safe with them. And out there too. I’m not like May.’
‘Eric thinks you are. He said you two were the bravest people he’d met.’
