He’d left his phone behind when he’d gone for his run. Picking it up from the table in the hall, he saw that Dee had called while he was out. He called her back, his mood lifting at the prospect of getting past this ridiculous argument. The call went straight to voicemail, so he left a message telling her he was sorry and asking her to call him back.
After drinking some water, he went upstairs to shower and get changed. He had just finished dressing when his mobile started to ring. He answered it without checking the caller ID.
‘Dee? Thank goodness you called back. I’m so, so sorry for earlier.’
‘Ed?’
A woman’s voice, but not Dee.
‘It’s Karen,’ the woman said. ‘Karen French?’
Derek’s wife and Kyle’s mother. Ed knew Karen from the rugby club. Clearly, she’d kept his number stored in her phone even after he’d stopped coaching her son.
‘Hey, Karen.’ Ed sat on the side of the bed.
‘They told me you’d been taken off the investigation,’ Karen said. ‘Is that right?’
‘Yes it is. Listen, Karen, I’m so sorry about Lauren. You all must be devastated.’
‘Utterly heartbroken,’ Karen said. ‘That poor child. I’ve prayed for her soul each night since we heard the terrible news.’
‘And Kyle? How’s he doing?’
‘How do you think?’ Karen said. ‘His girlfriend’s been murdered and your colleagues think he killed her.’
‘I’m sure that’s not true.’ Ed was starting to regret answering his phone. His interactions with Kyle’s mother had always been tricky. While she claimed to be a devout Christian, Karen was more than happy to be derogatory about the other players on the team, particularly if she thought they were getting better treatment than her son. She could be charming when she wanted to be, but she could also be demanding and difficult when she wasn’t getting her own way.
‘Well I’m sure it is,’ Karen said. ‘That’s why I’m calling. I need you to speak up for Kyle. You know him, Ed. You were his rugby coach for five years. Can’t you tell Rachel Lewis that Kyle would never do something like that?’
He’d been a good kid, Ed remembered. Unlike a lot of the young rugby jocks, Kyle was a real softie. The sort of bloke you couldn’t imagine ever hurting anyone. Although experience had taught Ed that even good people were capable of murder when pushed too far.
‘I’ve already told Rachel I think Kyle’s a good kid,’ Ed said. ‘But she has a job to do, and that means investigating everyone who knew Lauren.’
‘If you’re not part of the investigation,’ Karen said, ‘couldn’t you do some detective work on the side?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ask around, see what you can dig up. Everyone knows what really happened. Nigel killed her, and now he’s bullied Maxine into covering up for him.’
Ed’s body stiffened as he was assailed with a series of memories from his childhood, incidents he’d done his best to forget.
‘Why would you say that?’
‘Lauren and Nigel weren’t even on speaking terms at the end,’ Karen said. ‘A few weeks before she was killed, they had a terrible row. She moved out. Came to live with us. Which wasn’t ideal, as I’m sure you can imagine. I didn’t approve, of course. But Kyle is an adult now and Derek says I have to let him live his life the way he wants to. Anyway, my point is that everyone knows Lauren and Nigel argued, but no one’s going around saying he killed her. Instead, they’re so focused on poor Kyle they’re ignoring everything else. You need to tell Rachel to look at his alibi a bit more closely. He claims he was with Maxine the night Lauren was killed, but he’s lying.’
Ed needed to get his thoughts in order; make sure he didn’t let his hatred of Nigel Shaw get in the way of the right thing to do.
‘I can’t do that,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry, Karen.’
‘So you won’t help.’ Karen’s voice was flat, devoid of all emotion. If Ed had felt bad after his row with Dee, he felt a whole lot worse now.
‘I would if I could,’ he said.
‘Sure you would,’ Karen said. ‘Thanks for nothing, Ed.’
She hung up before he had a chance to say anything else. Ed put the phone down and buried his face in his hands. Once again, his mind flashed back to last week. The email from Lauren telling him she needed to see him. The email he’d ignored, because he was trying to do the right thing.
* * *
Dee knew she’d lied. Louise spent the rest of the morning running over their conversation, wondering what she’d let slip. She couldn’t think of a single thing. And yet, somehow, Dee had guessed she wasn’t telling the truth.
‘Everything okay?’
Martin’s voice made her jump. He’d come into the kitchen without her realising.
‘Fine,’ she said, struggling to keep the irritation out of her voice. Knowing it was her fault, not his, that he was annoying her. Everything he did these days seemed to annoy her. But she couldn’t tell him that without telling him the reasons why. So she kept quiet instead. Letting her frustration fester until, if she wasn’t careful, she would simply snap one day and tell him everything. And there was no way she could do that.
‘Kids are asking if they can go to the park for a bit,’ Martin said. ‘I thought we could take them together. Maybe stop off somewhere for a drink afterwards?’
The neediness in his voice made her want to scream. All these years, when he’d spent more time away from his family than with them, why now did he suddenly want to have all this time together?
‘I’ve got work to do,’ she said. ‘And I haven’t even started on the dinner yet. Why don’t you take them and I’ll see if I can finish up here as quickly as possible. Maybe I can come and join you for that drink after that?’
‘Okay.’ Martin nodded. ‘Sure.’
He turned to go, then paused. She tensed, waiting for the inevitable question.
‘You sure everything’s okay with us?’
‘Absolutely.’ She forced herself to smile, even though all she wanted to do was scream. ‘I’m just tired, Martin. Work and the kids, you know what it’s like.’
‘I know it’s not easy when I’m away,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry you’ve had to carry so much by yourself. But I’m trying my best to change, Lou. I really am.’
‘I know.’ She kept the smile fixed onto her face, but stepped out of the way when he leaned forward to kiss her.
‘Right then.’ He nodded. ‘I’ll tell the kids to get their shoes on. I’ll call you when we’re done in the park and see how you’re getting on.’
‘Great.’
She wondered if he knew she wouldn’t meet him later. He wasn’t stupid, Martin. He knew something wasn’t right between them. She’d done her best to protect him. But it wasn’t easy protecting someone when every moment you were with them they drove you crazy.
The worst of it was, she could see how hard he was trying. He was right. It hadn’t been easy all those years when his job as a pilot meant he spent more time away from his family than with them. Although she could hardly blame him for that. She’d known what she was getting into when she’d married him. But juggling a full-time job and taking care of two children had been harder than she could ever have anticipated. Over the years, it had ground her down, but she’d never found a way to tell him how hard she was finding it. She’d always felt the need to prove, not just to Martin but to everyone else too, how capable she was. When all the time, deep down, she hadn’t been capable at all. She’d been falling apart.
And now, just when she should be reaping the rewards of all those endlessly difficult years, she’d done something so catastrophically stupid she risked losing all of it – the nice house, the loving husband and her children.
She stood alone in the kitchen, listening to the familiar noise of her family as they bundled themselves into coats and shoes and hats for their excursion to the park. She was about to run out and tell them to wait, that she’d changed her mind,
when she felt her phone buzzing with a text message. She knew she should leave it. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. It was too late to go back and change what she’d started. And even if she was able to, she wasn’t sure that was what she wanted. Forgetting all about her husband and children, she took her phone out of her pocket and read the text, her fingers already tapping a reply as the front door slammed shut.
Eleven
When she eventually calmed down, Dee felt bad about the way she’d reacted earlier. She called Ed to apologise, but he didn’t answer. Instead, she got an electronic recording telling her to leave a message. As there was no way she was apologising to a robot, she hung up without saying anything. She’d tried, at least. Sooner or later, he’d see that she’d tried to call him. And then it was up to him whether or not he wanted to call her back.
To distract herself from thinking about him all afternoon, she decided to work. The story that had started out as an investigation into a missing woman had turned into something else. Something darker and more complicated. Dee sat on her living room floor, a piece of A3 paper laid out in front of her. It was how she liked to work. Writing down all the different pieces of the story and trying to find the connections.
She worked in the way she’d done since she started as an investigative journalist twenty-five years ago. Putting each piece of information onto the page, and using lines to indicate a connection – a dotted line for a possible link between two things or people, an unbroken line where there was a definite link, and no line if there was no connection.
She started with the things she knew, writing ‘Aldrington Hotel’ in the middle of the page. From this, she drew a straight line to Joana’s name. Over the line, Dee wrote the date Joana had last been seen. Working quickly, she added more names, until the page contained as much information as Dee could remember about Joana’s disappearance, and Lauren’s murder.
When she was finished, she sat back and looked at it all. There was nothing on the paper she didn’t know already, but seeing it laid out like this helped clarify her thinking. She’d been right to start with the hotel. There were too many lines connecting it to the other information on the page. Something had happened there. And because of that, one girl was missing and another was dead. What was it? The answer wasn’t there on the paper in front of her. It was hidden behind those connecting lines somewhere. Dee couldn’t see it yet, but she would find it.
By the time she’d finished, the sky had grown dark outside and it had started to rain. She’d left her phone charging in her bedroom. When she went to get it, she saw a missed call from Ed and a voicemail alert. When she’d finished listening to his message, she stood by the bed, looking out the window at the dark night, listening to the steady rhythm of the rain beating against the house, wondering whether or not to call him back. In the end, he got there first.
‘Hey,’ she said, putting the phone to her ear. ‘I’m glad you called.’
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t have got so defensive. You had every right to be angry with me.’
‘No,’ Dee said. ‘I overreacted, and I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.’
‘We’re both sorry then. Any chance we could put this behind us?’
‘Of course,’ Dee said, wondering if she meant it. ‘Actually, there’s something I wanted to ask you.’
‘Anything.’
She smiled. ‘Don’t say that until you know what it is. I’ve been going back over Joana’s disappearance. I want to dig a bit deeper into how she and Lauren knew each other.’
‘I thought we’d already spoken about this.’
‘Not really,’ Dee said. ‘You told me the two things weren’t connected. But you can’t know that for certain.’
‘But you’ve seen the news.’ Ed sounded frustrated. ‘It’s clear that whoever killed Lauren was sending some sort of message about Mary Palmer’s murder.’
‘Is it?’ Dee frowned.
‘Yes. Besides, it’s not your job to start investigating Lauren’s murder.’
‘Because I’m only a journalist?’
‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ Ed sighed. ‘If you want to look into it, then go ahead. I just think you’ll be wasting your time, that’s all.’
And thank you so much for that vote of confidence, Dee thought. She wanted to tell him his attitude was patronising, but she didn’t. The last thing she wanted was another row. Besides, she needed his help, and she was more likely to get that if she stayed on his good side.
‘You’re probably right,’ she said, adopting a tone she hoped was conciliatory. No easy task, given the mood he’d put her in. ‘But if I did look into it, would you help me?’
‘How?’
Dee noted sourly that he’d gone from offering her ‘anything’ a moment ago to sounding as if he didn’t want to help at all.
‘I’d like to speak with Kyle,’ she said. ‘And I was wondering – as you already know him, would you possibly put in a good word for me?’
‘I’m sorry, Dee. I would have done – really I would. But I’ve just had a falling-out with his mother. I’m pretty sure any recommendation from me would make things worse.’
‘You’re not just saying that?’ The words were out before she could stop them.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘Nothing,’ she said.
‘It didn’t sound like nothing. Do you really think I’d lie to you just to avoid putting in a good word on your behalf?’
‘No. I don’t think that. I’m frustrated, Ed, that’s all. A young woman is missing and, from what I can see, hardly anyone seems to care. Now I’ve got something that might help me find out what happened to her—’
‘Okay,’ Ed interrupted. ‘You’re right. I genuinely don’t believe looking into Lauren’s murder will help you find out what’s happened to Joana, but I understand why you feel you have to do it.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes, actually. You care a lot about people, and I’ve seen how much Joana’s disappearance is getting to you. I can understand why you’re desperate to prove the two things are connected. Even though it’s obvious they’re not.’
‘Not to me. And for your information, I’m not desperate. I’m simply doing my job.’
‘I just think your passion for what you do means you lose focus sometimes.’
‘You do?’
‘Just a little. I mean, look at it logically for a minute.’
Dee bit down hard on her lip to stop herself screaming that looking logically at Joana’s disappearance was exactly what she’d been doing.
‘Every bit of evidence so far,’ Ed said, ‘points to a clear link between Lauren’s murder and what happened to Mary Palmer. Which means you’re wasting your time trying to find some other reason for why she was killed. That’s the problem with journalism. When you’re a detective, you go where the evidence takes you. Nowhere else. But journalism lacks that strict discipline, which means it’s easier to get distracted by information that’s not directly relevant to the story you’re writing.’
‘Well then,’ Dee said. ‘Thanks for that. Goodness, what would I do without you? My little woman’s brain could never have worked that out all by myself. I’m really sorry I’ve wasted your time talking about this. Clearly, that was a mistake.’
Ed started to say something but she didn’t hear. She’d already hung up. And when he called back a moment later, she switched her phone off so she wouldn’t have to listen to another second of his patronising attempts to mansplain her job and her motivations.
Twelve
Karen French was nothing like Dee had imagined. Unlike her husband, who was flashy to the point of trashy, everything about Karen’s appearance seemed designed to make her as invisible as possible. Wiry grey hair, cut short; a brown cardigan over a cream blouse; a knee-length woollen skirt, also brown, and a pair of brown, sensible brogues on her feet. The only items of jewellery she wore were a silver chain necklace with a crucifix pendant and a
gold wedding ring.
She didn’t seem pleased when Dee introduced herself.
‘My husband’s told me all about you,’ Karen said. ‘You’ve been asking questions at the hotel. Upsetting his staff, from what I hear.’
‘I’ve done my best not to upset anyone,’ Dee said. ‘But a young woman is missing, and I seem to be the only person trying to find her.’
‘Well I don’t know anything about that,’ Karen said. ‘And if you think I’m letting a journalist into my house to start interrogating my family, you can think again. Hang on, was this Ed’s idea?’
‘Ed?’
‘You are his girlfriend, aren’t you?’
‘How do you know that?’ Dee asked.
‘I make it my business to know what’s going on.’ Karen frowned. ‘Dee. What sort of name is that?’
‘My full name is Delilah.’ Dee was starting to dislike the woman a lot.
‘Book of Judges,’ Karen said. ‘It means faithless one, did you know that?’
‘I went to a Catholic school,’ Dee said. ‘So yes, I’m more than familiar with the story of Samson and Delilah.’
She didn’t bother pointing out that her father had actually named her after the doomed woman in the 1968 Tom Jones classic, rather than a character from the Bible.
‘I know I asked Ed if he could help,’ Karen said. ‘But I didn’t expect him to send you. We’ve had more than enough trouble from your lot these last few days.’
‘Ed’s told me what a great kid Kyle is,’ Dee said, seeing her chance and grabbing it. She hadn’t known that Karen had asked Ed to help her. Another thing he’d forgotten to tell her. ‘I’d love to help prove he didn’t kill Lauren. If you’ll let me? I know that’s what Ed would want too.’
When the Dead Speak Page 8
