Chapter 47
They sit in the kitchen for a while. Lucy makes tea for them both, unnerved to be carrying out such a mundane task in Edgar’s kitchen. There was a time when it would have been her dream to be so close to him. Now it feels like a nightmare.
After they’ve finished the drinks, Lucy washes up the mugs, along with a couple of dirty glasses that were by the sink.
She’s exhausted, but she doesn’t want to stay still, either.
Trust me, Edgar had said. On what basis, though?
He’s a liar and a cheat, she knows that for certain.
What else might he be hiding? Her eyes catch on the highchair on the other side of the table, some colourful plastic bowls sitting on its tray.
It looks wholesome, innocent – shame claws at her craw.
Nothing left to clean, she sits back down. As she does so, there’s a shout. Rachel.
‘Come up here,’ she says, her voice carrying down faintly from the top of the house.
The women shoot to their feet and run up the stairs to find the padlocked door opened, revealing a ladder up to the loft. They climb up to find Rachel.
‘What the fuck?’ The exclamation comes out before Lucy can stop it, but the other two ignore her. They’re transfixed by what’s in front of them.
Screens. At least six of them, rigged up to the wall in front of a desk, on which a big computer sits.
There’s more computer equipment on the floor, big white boxes, wired to the screens.
They’re all dark, and one of them is cracked, as if someone has thrown something at it very hard.
The computer screen is lit up, open to emails.
Despite the evening chill, this space is overheated, warmth pumped out from all the computers.
It’s stuffy, a plastic smell in the air.
Lucy’s already starting to overheat, sweat prickling on her neck.
She pulls at her T-shirt to loosen its hold.
‘I never come up here,’ Rachel says. ‘It’s Edgar’s place, when he needs to concentrate. He doesn’t like anyone else even tidying it. But given everything that’s happened, I thought I should check . . . Look at these emails.’
Lucy and Anna stand at the computer and start to read. It’s an email chain between Victor and Edgar, the first email sent earlier in the year.
Victor to Edgar: Gabriela’s parents understood what this might mean as soon as they found it in that box of her belongings.
They’re kicking themselves for not looking at it all sooner, but it was too upsetting.
They don’t even speak English, but they know from just the sight of it what it means.
So there’s no excuse for you. You know what this means.
You owe me an explanation. And you’ve got to accept that there was more to Marie’s motivation.
She was stalking Gabriela. You as well. It’s clear as could be.
Look at it, practically burned into the writing.
She didn’t just lose control the night of the killing – she’d wanted Gabriela dead for months.
She’d been watching you, waiting for the moment to strike.
If you won’t tell the parole board about it, then I will.
Edgar to Victor: I owe you nothing. There’s nothing to be gained from that. It won’t bring Gabriela back.
Victor to Edgar: At the very least, it would mean Marie wouldn’t be entitled to an early release. Some justice is better than none.
Edgar to Victor: It’s under control. There’s nothing else to discuss. You should destroy it and get on with your life.
Victor to Edgar: Let me be clear, if you won’t tell them, I will. I’d prefer it if we were in agreement, but I’m giving it to them regardless.
Something clicks in Lucy’s head. Burned into the writing. You should destroy it. The notebook. They’re talking about the notebook. It hovers on the tip of her tongue.
‘There’s more,’ Rachel says.
She hands a sheaf of A4-sized papers over to them.
The pages show images, stills from a CCTV camera.
Two women, one old, one young, inside a bare stone house, and outside in a landscape that looks barren, remote.
One shows a sheep staring straight into a camera.
Another shows the old woman collapsed on the floor, what looks like vomit around her.
In another, the old woman is standing very close to the young woman, a broken bottle in one hand.
‘What’s this?’
Rachel doesn’t reply. She hands Anna another piece of paper, this one a list of items.
Gairloch order:
Usual food
Almond milk
Chocolate
Whisky x4
Lilies
Lucy looks at the paper blankly, then back at the photographs. She thinks about the email chain, Edgar shutting down discussion. Her eyes return to the list.
‘Where’s Gairloch?’ she says, keeping her voice steady.
‘Somewhere up north. In the Highlands, I think,’ Rachel says. ‘Why?’
A top-secret project in the Highlands, that’s what Edgar said in the car earlier. I’ve got too close to it. Is this what he was talking about? Lucy doesn’t answer Rachel’s question, asks one of her own. ‘Do you know who these women are?’
Rachel nods, once. Her lips are folded tightly. ‘That one,’ she says, pointing to the young woman.
‘Who is she?’ Lucy asks, though she has a good idea.
‘It’s Marie,’ Rachel says. ‘I don’t recognise the other woman.’
‘I think I can answer that,’ Anna says. She points up at the wall opposite, where there’s a collage of newspaper stories pinned to the wall.
KILLER MUM GIVEN WHOLE LIFE SENTENCE
TRAGEDY OF CHILDREN STARVED, BEATEN, BURNED BY THE ONE PERSON MEANT TO LOVE THEM
A mugshot stares out, dark roots, blank eyes; younger, but unmistakeably the woman in the CCTV printouts.
‘Do you know when these were taken?’
‘There are dates on the printouts,’ Rachel says. ‘This one was taken a few weeks ago.’
Anna’s eyes are shifting between Rachel, Lucy, the computer screens, the printouts. She looks as unsettled as Lucy feels. ‘Does that mean she’s been released?’
Lucy is joining the dots. The secret project. The Highlands. ‘My God,’ she says. ‘This place.’ She points at the printouts. ‘It’s a secret prison.’
‘It doesn’t look much like a prison, though,’ Anna says. ‘Look at this shopping list: whisky, flowers. It sounds more like a holiday camp than punishment.’
‘No wonder he didn’t want Victor poking around in Marie’s case,’ Lucy says.
‘How far would Edgar go to stop him?’ Rachel says. Then she seems to gather herself. ‘No, I’m being ridiculous. He can’t have had anything to do with what happened to Victor last night. He didn’t even know he was in the country.’
‘Lucy, you’d better . . .’ Anna says. Lucy knows exactly what she wants to say.
It’s now or never. Lucy’s choice. Trust Edgar and keep his secret. Or . . .
A deep breath, then: ‘Edgar was lying. We saw Victor in Cambridge yesterday.’
‘What the hell?’ Rachel says. ‘What happened? Why didn’t Edgar tell the police?’
‘I don’t know. He told me to trust him, but I don’t know what to think anymore.’
Rachel’s shaking her head. ‘Edgar has always felt like he was above the law.’
Some rules are made to be broken. That’s what he’d said to her. But this is beyond anything she’d ever imagined.
‘You said Edgar can be terrifying when he loses his temper. How far would he go to stop Victor interfering with Marie’s case?’ Anna says.
‘Not as far as trying to kill him,’ Rachel says. ‘I’m sure of it. Anyway, he stayed in Cambridge last night. It can’t have been him.’
But Lucy’s stammering now, stuttering to get something out, her face bright red.
‘Um, I’m sorry, this is hard . . . but maybe he could have come back.
I woke up in the middle of the night and he wasn’t there.
Then, when I woke up in the morning, he was back.
He said he’d gone for a walk, bought a coffee. ’ Even her ears have turned pink.
Rachel nods curtly.
‘He could have done it,’ Lucy says. ‘He could have driven back to Oxford and come back to the hotel. There was time.’
No one speaks. Anna tucks her hands into her pockets, shivering slightly, though the roof space is as warm as ever.
‘Anything else you want to tell me?’ Rachel asks.
Lucy twitches at the question. But before she can respond, some more papers on the desk catch her eye.
She picks them up, leafing through them, flicking random sheets out of the way.
She’s not sure exactly what she’s looking for, but after a couple of moments, she finds something, her fingertips jolting at the discovery as if it’s electrified. She holds it out to the others.
‘Look at this.’
Incoherent ramblings, crazed capital letters in black ink scrawled across the page.
I KNEW YOU LOVED ME AND NOW YOU’VE SHOWN ME. THE MOST AMAZING CONVERSATION OF MY LIFE. WE’RE GOING TO WORK TOGETHER, EVERYTHING. I KNOW WHAT TO DO – YOU’VE TOLD ME. IT WON’T BE LONG NOW TILL YOU’RE MINE
‘What the fuck?’ Rachel says. Anna is standing beside her, her face equally startled at the sight of the demented scribblings.
‘The notebook,’ replies Lucy. ‘Marie’s notebook. These must be the scans of it. Edgar said Victor had sent them, but Edgar wouldn’t take them seriously.’
‘What notebook?’ Rachel asks.
‘Marie kept a notebook – a handwritten diary. Victor found it in a box of Gabriela’s belongings that her parents had kept. It’s why he’s so insistent she can’t be set free. What was it his email said? “She’d been watching you, waiting for the moment to strike.”’
Rachel’s white to her lips. ‘Proving Victor’s theory that Marie planned to kill Gabriela from the start. Edgar never believed that could be true.’
Lucy nods. ‘And now Victor’s almost been burned alive.’ What the hell was Edgar so desperate to hide?
‘It’s impossible to know what all this means. Without the actual notebook, there’s no way of giving this context. These pages could be anything,’ Rachel says. She’s leaning over the desk beside Lucy, looking intently at the papers.
‘Edgar’s got the notebook,’ Lucy says. ‘Victor gave it to him yesterday. He has all the evidence. We have no idea what else could be hiding in those pages.’
Rachel rifles through the desk herself, papers flying.
There’s a long pause, before she takes in a deep breath, exhales shakily. ‘Dear God, Edgar. What have you done?’