Alicia felt fear pierce through her like an icicle. There had been no contempt in his voice, no accusation. Nothing. He’d sounded empty. Flat. As if he truly didn’t care.
‘I’m sorry if it upset you,’ he went on, drawing in a long breath, ‘but he had it coming.’
‘Sorry?’ Alicia shook her head. ‘Justin, I’m only upset for you. I don’t care about—’
‘We need to talk,’ Justin said quickly over her, as though he had steeled himself to say it.
Alicia nodded, closing her eyes. He needed answers, none of which he would want to hear. ‘When?’ she asked, gulping back the heavy weight of remorse.
‘Tomorrow,’ he said. ‘At the house.’
Surrounded by the ghosts of what had been, and the future that could never be. It would hurt meeting him there, seeing him there, being reminded of everything she’d thrown away. She didn’t think that was Justin’s intention, but it was fitting.
Fifty-One
JUSTIN
Covered in a slick film of sweat from his efforts working in the basement, Justin wiped his arm across his forehead and checked his watch. It was early morning, he realised. Time he called it quits. He wasn’t sure why he’d decided to come here, to carry on working on the studio. And then he realised it was because he saw Sophie and Luke wherever he went in the house; he would hear them. It was to be in touch with his children.
Tidying up his tools, double-checking he had all the equipment he would need, he turned his attention to the additional LED lighting he’d been installing. The soundproofing had already been done when he’d suspected the existing lighting wasn’t sufficient. Wanting the studio to be finished for Sophie’s sixteenth, he’d been planning to strip the insulation away and replace the spotlights. Her sixteenth had come and gone. The lighting had never been done. He’d come here on her birthday, but he hadn’t been able to bring himself to disturb anything; not that day.
He would finish it. He was determined to. It was his way of keeping hope alive, he supposed. Hope that when she came back, it would be ready. When he’d finished it though, what then? What if Sophie didn’t come back? He wasn’t ready to contemplate that. Wearily, he climbed the steps back to the hall, where the melodic sound of a child’s innocent laughter greeted him. He’d heard it when he’d come once before. It had worried him then. Today, it didn’t bother him. He found it quite soothing.
She’d learned to ride her bike, stabiliser-free, here in the hall, he recalled. It had been snowing that day. His gaze travelled the length of the long flagstone floor, where he could see her pedalling furiously, laughing delightedly when she’d realised he’d let go of the saddle and she was doing it all on her own. She’d abandoned her bike and run back to him, when the rug had slipped from under him and he’d ended up flat on his back, cracking his head on the tiles. ‘Is it hurting, Daddy?’ she’d asked him, her beautiful chestnut eyes wide with alarm.
‘It’s hurting, baby,’ he said now to the wispy spirit of her. So much, I don’t think I can bear it. Closing his eyes, he swallowed and headed for the stairs, planning to take a shower before leaving. Where he was staying, hot water was a luxury in the bathroom he shared with the other tenants. He didn’t need luxury. He needed to function, to wash himself awake, wash the grime from his soul after endless days traipsing the bowels of the city, seeing things he’d always been aware of but could never have truly imagined.
The hallucinations, if that’s what they were, were worse upstairs, where the smells of his family were overwhelming: Alicia’s lingering perfume; the faded scent of the joss sticks Sophie burned. The sounds. Wherever he went, he couldn’t escape them: Sophie’s soulful singing; the butterfly wind chime Alicia had hung in the nursery to encourage Luke’s hand movements; Luke’s gurgles of pleasure as he batted it or managed to catch hold of it. That was the sound that haunted him most. Even in the basement, he heard it. In his single room, he heard it. It would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Hearing the chimes as he bypassed the nursery room door, Justin didn’t try to block it out, accepting it instead as part of the insanity his life had become. It was possible, he supposed, that he might be going out of his mind. He couldn’t seem to keep a rein on his thoughts – definitely not on his emotions. Everything seemed to mingle into one lately: days, nights, dreams, reality. He’d be thinking, only to realise he’d been verbalising his thoughts. Talking, only to realise he’d stopped and drifted off into some distant memory. When he counted, he sometimes found himself counting out loud, which earned him wary looks from people passing by.
Would it bother him, he wondered as he showered, if the only sounds he heard were those of his kids? If he simply stopped functioning in other areas of his life? He wasn’t sure it would. He didn’t want to let go of them. Couldn’t.
* * *
Towelling his hair ten minutes later, he was halfway down the stairs when he realised there was someone at the front door. Justin quashed his irritation as he pulled the door open to find Taylor standing there. Was he doing follow-up calls now, checking up on victims of crime? As if they gave a damn any more who’d broken into their house. That was history. The here and now, the painful reality, was that their daughter was still missing. They still had no idea where she was. And this paragon of the law, what was he doing? Nothing.
Sighing, Justin draped his towel around his neck and eyed the man questioningly.
‘We have the forensics team here.’ Taylor offered him his short smile – and a completely nonsensical explanation for his visit.
‘Forensics?’ Justin squinted at him, confused.
Taylor knitted his brow. ‘I left you a message, on your voicemail. I spoke with your sister-in-law, too. She said she would pass the information on to Alicia. I assumed she might have told you.’
‘No.’ Justin shook his head. It seemed Alicia wasn’t in the habit of telling him very much at all. ‘No, she didn’t. So, what is it you’re looking for?’
‘Anything we might have missed,’ Taylor supplied. ‘There’s been another break-in in the area. It’s not exactly a crime wave, but we found some footmarks at the other property. I thought it was worth taking another look here. We’ll be concentrating mainly on the gardens, but if it’s inconvenient…? It’s just, as we already have the men here...’
‘No, no major inconvenience.’ Justin sighed, thinking he would need to call Alicia, assuming she didn’t call first to postpone their meeting now the police were here. It occurred to him she might have thought this was a useful way to avoid facing him. It wouldn’t be easy for her: explaining why she’d cheated on him, and then compounded that deceit with a decision that might ultimately crucify him. ‘Help yourself.’ He shrugged indifferently. ‘Have a field day.’
Taylor looked mildly amused at that. ‘Am I to take it you’re moving back in?’ He nodded past him, to where Justin’s tools made it obvious he’d been working.
Justin shook his head. ‘Under the circumstances, no,’ he said, holding the man’s gaze. ‘We might well sell up. I just came to check the house over and attend to a few things.’
‘Oh.’ Taylor nodded awkwardly. ‘That’s a shame. It’s a nice property.’
‘A family property,’ Justin said pointedly. ‘Can I do something else for you, Detective? It’s just that I’d quite like to get on with searching for my daughter.’
Taylor glanced down and back. ‘We are looking, Justin,’ he said, with a heavy sigh. ‘Every one of my officers has her photograph.’
‘You’re not looking hard enough,’ Justin said, attempting – and failing – to quell a rush of anger as he turned away. ‘Fuck it!’ he cursed, managing to trip over the drill he’d left in the hall.
‘Emotions not entirely under control then?’ Taylor observed drily behind him.
‘You know what?’ Disentangling himself from his drill, Justin turned around, making no attempt this time to hide his anger. ‘No, they’re not. Would yours be? I mean, look at it from my point of view: my
daughter’s missing and the people who are supposed to be out finding her are digging up my fucking front garden!’
Taylor drew in a breath and stepped inside, nudging the front door closed behind him. Obviously, he didn’t want to be embarrassed in front of the officers whose resources he was wasting on a completely futile task. ‘You need to get some sleep, Justin,’ he said, his expression dour. ‘You’re exhausted.’
Justin laughed. ‘Shrewd observation,’ he said. ‘I can see why you’re a detective.’
‘And make sure you stay away from Paul Radley,’ Taylor added, his eyes holding a warning. ‘He’s leaving for Dubai shortly, isn’t he? Just let him go quietly and try to get on with your life.’
Dragging a hand over his neck, Justin smiled contemptuously. ‘I’d love to,’ he said. ‘Unfortunately, thanks to that bastard, I don’t have one.’
‘I get that.’ Taylor nodded empathetically. ‘I’ve been there, remember, though not under such tragic circumstances. But you have to let it go, Justin. Let him go back, and then try to pick up the pieces of your life.’
Justin said nothing. There were no pieces. Clearly, Taylor didn’t get it.
‘Violence rarely solves anything, Justin,’ Taylor went on, echoing what Justin had once thought – in another lifetime. ‘You could well have been up on a charge of grievous bodily harm with intent. How would that have helped anything?’
‘Oh, the intent was definitely there.’ Justin couldn’t help himself.
Shooting him a despairing look, Taylor ignored that. ‘Between you and me, I have no doubt he had it coming, but you don’t deserve the repercussions, and nor does your wife. I might be completely out of line here, and you can tell me to mind my own business, but she cares about you, Justin. Don’t let her go without a fight.’
Justin eyed him with ironic amusement.
‘Of the non-physical variety,’ Taylor added wryly.
Fifty-Two
ALICIA
Seeing Justin’s car parked outside the house as she pulled into their road, Alicia felt an overpowering sense of heart-crushing homesickness engulf her, and then a flash of panic as she noted the police car beyond it. Parking behind Justin’s car, she scrambled out, her insides twisting as she realised two white-suited officers were poking around in the soil of the garden. What on earth were they looking for? Her panic escalating, she hurried towards them and was surprised to see DI Taylor coming around the side of the house.
‘Morning,’ he said, smiling as he came towards her. ‘Oh. I take it you didn’t get my message either then? I left one with your sister.’
‘No.’ Alicia looked at him with a mixture of alarm and apprehension.
‘We were investigating another property in the area,’ Taylor filled her in, ‘and we thought we might take the opportunity to check we hadn’t missed anything forensically here. I did run it by your husband, obviously, when we arrived. I hope it’s not going to cause you any inconvenience?’
The knot of tension in Alicia’s stomach slackened. She’d been imagining all sorts of things in those few seconds climbing from the car. ‘No,’ she said, ‘not if Justin doesn’t mind. So, have you found anything?’ She nodded curiously towards one of his men, on his hands and knees brushing at the mud.
‘Nothing much, no.’ DI Taylor followed her gaze. ‘Although I did spot your rather nice rose tree. Climbing Lady Hillingdon, isn’t it, if I’m not mistaken?’
He was a gardener then? Alicia looked at him interestedly. She hadn’t really considered the man beyond the policeman. ‘That’s right,’ she said, an immediate sense of sadness overwhelming her as she glanced towards where the huge creamy butterscotch flowers would bloom come spring.
‘I wouldn’t mind a cutting sometime,’ DI Taylor said. ‘I have the perfect space for it outside my patio window.’
‘Of course.’ Alicia’s eyes filled up, despite her best efforts. Would she ever see it bloom again? See her daughter coming through the front door again?
They’d painted the outside of the house together, she and Justin. They’d chosen a cheery yellow for the door with a white trim to complement the red brickwork. They’d wanted something bold and sunny to brighten up the grey days. She could almost see Sophie coming through the door now. Dressed in her jeans, puffer jacket and a furry bobble hat, earphones strung around her neck and her phone in her hands, she was turning to chatter nineteen to the dozen to Justin, who was coming through the front door behind her. Listening attentively, he was wearing his patient expression, as ever, an amused smile playing around his mouth as he glanced towards where Alicia waited in her car.
They’d been going Christmas shopping, she remembered. They’d made it a rule, even in the midst of the Christmas madness, to spend family time together. They’d go out for their own pleasure only, browsing the shops, pointing out things they hoped Santa would bring them. They’d do lunch, stroll, take in the sparkling decorations and twinkly bright lights, refusing, just for one special day, to put themselves under any pressure.
They would never have that again.
Pulling in a shaky breath, Alicia attempted to suppress the tears that would come if she held on to the memory for too long.
‘I’ll let you get on,’ Taylor said, his smile sympathetic. ‘He’s inside.’ He reached to squeeze her arm, which, ridiculously, made her feel even more like crying. ‘You two should talk.’
Alicia smiled faintly and then braced herself and headed towards the house. The locks had been changed since the break-in. Justin had organised it. She hadn’t asked him for a key. In truth, she hadn’t wanted to ask, terrified that he might suggest she didn’t need one.
Answering it a minute after she’d rung the bell, Justin offered her a small smile. Alicia took some comfort from that, from the fact that he didn’t appear to openly loathe her.
‘Can I come in?’ she asked him, smiling hesitantly back.
‘Yes. Of course. Sorry. I, er…’ Looking distracted, as he perpetually seemed to be, and utterly exhausted, Justin stepped back.
He’d been in the basement. Alicia noticed the door was slightly ajar, the tool bag outside it. He’d obviously been working on the studio – Sophie’s sixteenth birthday surprise. Alicia’s heart wrenched as she looked back at him. ‘How’s it going?’ she asked, for something to say.
‘So-so,’ Justin shrugged. ‘It’s something to do.’
He didn’t want to talk about it. Of course he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t want to talk about anything to do with the house. The material things and joint projects they’d shared in it. The memories. Alicia cursed her insensitivity.
Dropping her gaze, she turned and walked to the lounge. She didn’t sit. She wasn’t sure what to do. She felt bereft, a devastating sense of sadness encompassing her again as she stood in the middle of the room that was truly the heart of the home they’d built together, that they’d lived and laughed in together. Her breath caught painfully in her chest as her eyes fell on the TV remote, abandoned where Sophie always left it: on the arm of the sofa at the end she’d always claimed as her own.
Alicia squeezed her eyes tight shut and tried to breathe. If she caught sight of anything of Lucas’s, her legs would fail her, along with her courage. She couldn’t.
‘Can I get you a coffee?’ Justin said, his tone awkward as he followed her in.
Alicia shook her head. Don’t be polite. Please don’t be polite, she begged silently. She couldn’t bear that he didn’t know how else to be. ‘No,’ she said quickly, her throat tight. ‘Thanks. I’m… not thirsty.’
Justin nodded, glancing down and back again. His eyes, finally meeting hers, were full of dark shadows, such insurmountable pain.
‘I didn’t realise DI Taylor was here,’ she said, again for want of something to say. The awful empty silence hung like a guillotine between them.
‘Jessica didn’t tell you he was coming then?’ Justin eyed her curiously.
Alicia shook her head. ‘No. It must have slipped her mind.’
His eyes narrowing briefly, Justin nodded, and walked past her to the window, where he stood with his back to her.
‘Justin…’ Alicia noted the stiff set of his shoulders, as if he too was bracing himself – for more hurt than had already been heaped on him, more weight that he couldn’t possibly carry. ‘I’m sorry,’ she blurted, the same two stupid, ineffectual words she’d uttered before. Words that could never communicate how desperately sorry she was.
Justin drew in a tight, ragged breath.
The tick of the carriage clock on the mantel grew louder in the heavy silence between them, punctuated by the scraping of the officers at work outside. Alicia was uncertain what to do, whether to go to him. Should she stay? What could she say? It was too late. There’d been no way for her to explain it years ago, and there was no way to explain it now. Whatever she said, she couldn’t undo the damage, the pain she’d caused him. She was supposed to be the nurturer, the carer for her family. She’d broken everything. And she couldn’t fix it.
‘Justin?’ She tried tearfully again, needing a response from him – accusations, questions, a release of the fury that was surely stuffed inside him. Anything.
‘Would you like me to go?’ she asked him, after another hour-long minute ticked by.
Alicia waited, working to stifle the tears he wouldn’t want to witness and with which he couldn’t possibly sympathise.
But still Justin didn’t answer.
He didn’t want to hear it. That was his answer. As the tiny sliver of hope to which she’d dared cling began to fade, Alicia turned quietly to the door. He could never forgive her. She’d finally lost him. He would never know that she would never be whole again without him.
‘Why, Alicia?’ Justin said simply, as she reached the hall.
The Affair_A gripping psychological thriller with a shocking twist Page 19
