One Click

by Andrea Mara

  Chris turns to her.

  “What do I do? How do I see what she recorded?”

  “Press stop but don’t do anything else. The video should still be there.”

  He does as she says, and a row of photos and video clips appear across the bottom of the screen.

  “Click on the last one on the right,” Ruth says, still whispering. He does.

  The video screen is dark at first but they can hear voices. A woman’s voice Cleo doesn’t recognise at all, and a man’s voice that’s all too familiar, rising like a spectre from the grave.

  Chapter 42

  As a trio they freeze, staring as the image comes up on screen – an apartment Cleo hasn’t seen before, with glass doors looking out onto the night sky, and two people. One she recognises from her Facebook profile picture. The other is Marcus.

  Shannon is nearer to the screen than Marcus – it looks like she might be sitting at a desk or table, about to use the laptop. She’s turned sideways to speak to him, her dark ponytail swinging when she moves her head. He’s a little further away, but in shot.

  “Won’t he see himself on the screen if he comes closer?” Cleo whispers to Ruth.

  “She probably has her web browser open to cover the video screen,” Ruth whispers back. “As long as the camera is on, that’s all she needs.”

  It’s hard to tune in to what they’re saying at first, and Chris turns up the volume. Marcus is speaking.

  “Shannon, this has to stop – the texting, the calls to the office. We’re not together anymore.”

  To Cleo, he sounds uncharacteristically sad. Maybe they have it all wrong, maybe she did jump?

  “I think when you hear what I have to say, you’ll see things differently.”

  Shannon’s voice is harder than Cleo expected, but then she’s not seeing her in any kind of normal circumstance.

  Marcus shakes his head.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t keep doing this.”

  Shannon reaches to pick something up.

  “I suspect you’ll change your mind when you see this.”

  “What is it?” he asks.

  “You know what it is. And it’s positive.”

  She stretches her arm towards him. He hesitates at first, then comes closer to look.

  “See the two lines? That means I’m pregnant.”

  Cleo watches as his face changes, a cold anger she knows so well, replaced in a heartbeat by something more neutral. He takes it from her, holding it up to look.

  “What are you playing at, Shannon?”

  “There’s no playing. We’re going to have a baby. You and me.”

  “Hold on, it’s hardly mine. We’ve only slept together once since we broke up.”

  Ruth reaches over and squeezes Cleo’s hand, as Marcus keeps talking.

  “You’ve been overdoing the Valium and vodka for months now, and I’m sorry but that baby could be anyone’s. Shannon, I don’t even know if this test is real – I can’t deal with this right now. I need to go.”

  Cleo watches Shannon’s face, waiting for pain or surprise but seeing none. She sits up straight, nodding slowly, the hard smile fixed in place. It’s clear now that she expected this.

  “Don’t go, Marcus, there’s something else.”

  His shoulders fall and though he’s too far from the camera to catch the sigh, the watchers sense it.

  “What now?”

  “You see, being pregnant has given me a new perspective. Now that I’ll have my own child, it’s made me wonder about other children – the ones who never saw their dad because he died on the side of a road one night in Gatesville.”

  Marcus’s arms drop to his side and he takes a step closer to her. To the watchers.

  “Shannon. Leave it.”

  “I can’t leave it. Not any more. That man’s children deserve to know what happened to their father, just like our baby will know what happened to you.”

  “What happened to me?” Now he looks confused.

  “For sure. Our child will know the truth either way. Maybe that truth will be that you’re in prison for killing a man then walking away, or maybe that truth will be that you’re at work and you’ll be home by six for dinner and a bedtime story.” She smiles. “The truth will be yours to make and mine to tell.”

  He takes another step closer.

  “Shannon, what are you saying?” His voice is soft.

  “You know what I’m saying. It’s your call. We can make a family together, you, me and this little guy.”

  They watch as Shannon reaches down – it’s off-screen but clear she’s patting her belly. Her empty belly. Did she know?

  “Shannon, we can’t be a family.” There’s a tightness to his voice now, a taut string Cleo knows so well, but he keeps his expression neutral. “Even if this baby is real, we’re not together anymore. You know that.”

  “Then on your head be it.”

  Shannon turns back to the laptop and pulls it towards her. She’s typing something, her brow furrowed in concentration. Does she even remember the camera above the screen? Marcus moves closer, he’s right behind her now.

  Instinctively, Cleo steps back. Chris flinches.

  Shannon and Marcus fill the screen, and for a moment, it’s as if they’re both in the room, both back from the grave. And one just minutes from her death.

  “What are you doing?” Marcus asks.

  Shannon looks back at him and nods towards whatever is on screen – something she and Marcus can see but the watchers can’t. He leans in over her shoulder, narrowing his eyes to read.

  “You’re telling your dad about that night? Are you insane?”

  A smile plays on her lips. “Not insane, Marcus. In fact, I haven’t felt this clearheaded in a long time.” Her hand goes down towards her belly again. “I haven’t finished the email yet, and I don’t have to. It’s your call.”

  “You want me to turn myself in? I don’t get it.” The anger is gone for a moment and he seems genuinely confused.

  “It’s not my preferred option but it’s up to you.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Marcus, it’s pretty simple. You can move back in tonight and we can start planning our future, or I finish writing this email to my dad. You’ve got about sixty seconds to decide.” She’s looking directly at the screen now, as her hands fly across the keyboard.

  Behind her left shoulder, Marcus comes closer, reading as she types. He inches back again, and now his face is bone white, his eyes furious. The mic on the laptop doesn’t pick it up but Cleo can see his breathing. In, out, in, out, faster and faster, his chest moving, his gaze staying still – never straying from the words on the screen. He closes his eyes and puts a hand either side of his head. Shannon is still typing and doesn’t look back. His eyes spring open, and Ruth lets out a gasp. He puts a fist in his mouth – to stop himself shouting? He shakes his head slowly, then drops his hand to his side and takes a visibly slower breath.

  Still Shannon types, oblivious to what’s going on behind her. There’s a knowing smile on her lips, and Cleo wants to scream at her to turn around but it’s too late.

  His face changes again. As they watch from the future, he composes himself, unfurling his brow, relaxing his arms, breaking into a smile. Only his eyes hold a hint of what they’ve just seen.

  “Shannon.” His voice is soft.

  Her smile grows wider. “Yes?”

  “I used to think about this, you know – about what it would be like to be parents. It’s what you always wanted for us, but it’s taken me my –” he pauses, searching for a word, “my affair to understand that it’s what I want too. Let’s do it, let’s raise this child together.”

  “And Cleo?”

  “She was a distraction.”

  Ruth squeezes Cleo’s hand again, but she’s way beyond any sensitivity about their relationship

  “The baby changes everything,” Marcus says quietly. “What you said about coming home by six for dinner and story-time? That�
�s what I want.”

  “Then I guess I don’t need to finish writing this email to my dad,” Shannon says, turning to him.

  She stands and reaches her arms out to him. He hugs her, his face towards the screen, towards the watchers. And it’s there. The fury. Determined and pitiless.

  Chris puts his hand to his mouth. “Oh Shannon, go! Please just go!” he whispers.

  Beside Cleo, Ruth has tears rolling down her cheeks.

  The futility is beyond comprehension, as each of them silently begs this girl from the past to run.

  But she doesn’t run. She hugs and she smiles and she stays.

  Marcus pulls back then and kisses her forehead.

  “Imagine – a baby,” he says. “Do you think it’s a boy or a girl?”

  Shannon is still facing away from the laptop and they can’t hear her reply but he smiles in response.

  “I think we need to make things a little more official. Especially for your parents. Here –” He reaches, and they can’t see, but then she raises her hand, and he’s taking a ring off her finger. “Do you mind if I borrow this for a moment? There’s something important I need to do.”

  He stands, looking around the room for a moment.

  “We need somewhere more romantic, I think – how about looking out at the New York sky?”

  He switches off the lights inside the apartment and it’s harder to see now, but they can still make out what’s happening. He walks towards the glass door to the balcony and pushes it open, then turns to beckon her out.

  “No,” Ruth whispers, but Shannon can’t hear her and she follows Marcus out onto the balcony.

  It’s dark and they’re in the distance now; the watchers can just about make out shapes.

  Cleo hears a strangled sob from Chris and moves around to sit beside him. Gripping his hand in hers, she asks if she should stop the video now.

  “Let it play,” he whispers, and she does.

  As they watch, helpless to change what’s already done, they see one dark shadow kneel before the other. They see Shannon’s outline against the moonlit sky, clasping her hands together. And still they watch as he stands again and picks her up and swings her around, her ponytail swishing in the night breeze. She’s tiny in his arms, and he lifts her again with ease, her lower back against the railing. It’s too dark to see her expression, but all of them can feel it, every inch of it, as they understand what’s coming. He kisses her again, then lifts her higher, so the railing is now at the back of her knees. And then it’s easy. Far too easy. One flick, and she’s over. One release, and she’s gone. Like a dying autumn leaf, floating to the merciless ground below.

  Chapter 43

  At first there is nothing. No movement, no sound. They stare at the screen, trying to take it in. Cleo is still holding Chris’s hand, and when she turns to look at him his face is immobile. She searches for words but there are none. Then Marcus saves them – the movie unfolding in front of them continues, dispensing with the need for speech.

  He’s back inside the apartment, the glass door still open behind him. He draws nearer to the laptop, sitting down in front of it, so his face takes up most of the screen. Again there’s the urge to step back, and Cleo has to remind herself that he’s not really there, he can’t see them. He’s pressing something on the keyboard now, his eyes moving from one side to the other.

  They hear the click of keys being pressed. He’s typing something, his mouth moving as he does so, but they can’t hear the words. Then he pushes back from the laptop and closes it. The screen fades to black.

  This time Cleo is ready to break the silence.

  “Chris, we need to call the police.”

  His hand slips out of hers. “I think I need a minute.” Trance-like, he stares at the blank screen.

  Cleo looks back at Ruth – she has tears in her eyes.

  “I keep thinking we should call 911 and try to save her,” Ruth whispers. “Like it happened just now.”

  “I know,” Cleo whispers back. “There’s nothing we can do for Shannon, but let’s keep a watch over Chris.”

  He’s poker-straight on the couch, his face blank.

  “Can I get you anything? A drink?” Cleo asks.

  He shakes his head, then clears his throat. “I don’t even know where to start with telling my parents about this. I don’t think they should ever see that video – there’s so much there that they’d hate, not just the . . . end. Jesus, we didn’t know Shannon at all.”

  Cleo takes his hand again. “Don’t look at it like that. She’s still your sister. All that time with someone like Marcus would warp anyone.”

  Ruth throws her a look but Chris just nods.

  “What was he doing at the end, when he was at the laptop?” he asks.

  “I think he was deleting the email she’d written to your dad,” Cleo tells him.

  Understanding washes over his features.

  “The suicide email to my dad – it was never about suicide. And she never sent it, Marcus did. Oh my God.” He rubs his face with both hands. “So he deleted most of her email to Dad, but left that first line about something eating her up inside?”

  Cleo nods. “And all he had to do was type ‘Goodbye, Shannon’ and hit send. I’m guessing he never noticed that the subject line included his name. Or maybe he did, and wanted your dad to think she killed herself because she was heartbroken.”

  Chris winces, but carries on. “Do you think she really believed she was pregnant? Could the autopsy have missed it?”

  Ruth shakes her head. “I don’t think an autopsy could miss something like that, but if she was taking Valium like Marcus said, it can cause a false positive pregnancy test. Maybe that’s what happened.”

  Cleo nods. Poor Shannon. Planning a future based on a twelve-year-old secret and a baby that didn’t exist. She tells Chris she’s going to try Detective Murphy again – it’s late, but they need the laptop off their hands. She reaches over to close it and without thinking, starts to pick at the smiley-face sticker that’s stuck beside the camera.

  “No, don’t touch that!” Ruth says and Cleo pulls her hand away.

  “Why, what is it?”

  “I’m guessing she put it there to cover the light that comes on when the camera is operating – we should probably leave everything as is.”

  Cleo nods, and pulls up Detective Murphy’s number. This time he picks up and, without a word, listens to the story. Cleo’s not sure how it works when a murderer is dead, but he says it’s still murder and will be investigated. He promises he’ll come by to pick up the laptop, and she passes the message to Chris, but he’s gone back into a trance-like state. Ruth gets up to put on coffee, the agreement between them unspoken – for now, Chris stays here.

  Silver-grey light filters through the gap in Ruth’s heavy living-room drapes, drawing Cleo out of a dream about frantically trying to call home. She pulls the patchwork quilt up over her shoulders and closes her eyes again, but sleep is gone. What time is it anyway? Her phone has slipped under the couch and, when she slides it out, the screen shows four missed calls. Three from her mom and one from Lauren, plus two messages from Lauren. And it’s almost eleven. Shit.

  She sits up, blinking in the half-light, then slips off the couch and knocks on Ruth’s door. There’s no sound from inside, but a note on the kitchen table says she’s gone to work. God, poor Ruth. Chris was there until three this morning, then they were up talking for another hour when he left. Now Ruth has gone in to face her horrible boss, and Cleo won’t even be here when she gets home – she needs to get out to her mom’s. Everyone needs a friend like Ruth, and nobody needs a friend like Cleo.

  She switches on the coffee machine and calls her mom to let her know what’s happened – it takes some time to get through the whole story and Delphine is upset on realising that her daughter was living with a murderer.

  “But it’s over and he’s gone and at least we got to the truth. That’s important, right, Mom?”

 
There’s silence on the other end of the phone.

  “Mom, are you still there?”

  “So, I guess the messages were never from Chris?” she says eventually.

  “No, nothing to do with him. So we’re right back to the start trying to solve that one.”

  “Cleo, did the messages ever mention the name Barbara?”

  Cleo switches the phone from one ear to the other as she pours her coffee.

  “What? Who’s Barbara? Why would they mention Barbara?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing. A friend got some hoax messages, you know, one of those ones about winning the lottery or something, and I thought she said it was from someone called Barbara. Don’t mind me.”

  Something in Delphine’s dismissal seems off.

  “Mom, are you sure? You sound weird.”

  “I’m sure. Ignore me!”

  Cleo nods into the phone as she swallows the too-hot coffee and winces.

  “Mom, I gotta go, I need to message Lauren – I’ll see you later, okay?”

  Cleo disconnects and sits back down to look at Lauren’s messages.

  Did you go to Chris’s apartment? Please let me know if you are ok?

  Then another:

  Cleo, I’m getting worried. He might be dangerous. Please get back to me?

  It seems so odd now that this time yesterday she was confronting Chris about VIN. And inside, she knows now she’s glad he’s not. But Lauren won’t be happy, there’s no relief for her – if it’s not Chris, it’s wide open again. Pressing the call button, she takes a deep breath.