Chapter 14 #3
‘There’s no mistake,’ Rachel said. Owen felt a pang as he realised that he could hear pity in her voice now.
‘Steve and Kieran caught the two of them red-handed. They had bolt cutters and a crowbar as well as a spade. Oh, and a big bag to carry whatever they were aiming to steal…’ She paused.
‘I’m very sorry, Owen. I think Jenna must have planned this for a while.
I…’ She hesitated, then said more strongly, ‘I think she may have been playing you all along, trying to find out more about the excavation. Perhaps she’s involved in the thefts as well. It would fit together—’
‘No!’ Owen realised he had almost shouted the word. He slowed the car down again, trying to concentrate, but all he could think about was Rachel’s words, spinning around in his mind.
Jenna may have been playing you…
It couldn’t possibly be true. Only that morning he’d told Rachel he didn’t want Jenna thinking that he was playing her, just to get an in with Bree Bergin on behalf of the Foundation.
Jenna had never once asked him anything about Winterhill, or the excavation, or Swan Power.
In fact, she’d seemed reluctant to talk about the village at all, which he’d put down to the fact that, like him, she had mixed feelings about her childhood there and had moved on.
‘There has to have been a misunderstanding,’ he repeated, but he could hear the uncertainty in his own voice now and he hated himself for it.
Did he trust Jenna, or didn’t he? He knew they hadn’t known each other for long, but he had been surer about her than anything before in his life, right from the moment he had walked into the café at Winterhill.
‘There’s no misunderstanding, I’m afraid.
’ Rachel merely sounded tired now. ‘Jenna’s admitted everything.
She said it was just a prank; that there was a local legend that there was treasure in Father Nicholas’s grave and she wanted to see if it was true, but I think that’s just an excuse for some serious theft of antiquities.
’ She cleared her throat. ‘Look, Owen, I appreciate you coming to back me up but it would probably be better if you don’t see Jenna whilst you’re here.
That way we avoid more of a scene than there has already been. ’
‘Right,’ Owen said. He was still processing Rachel’s words, the dead end of it.
No mistake, serious theft of antiquities…
It seemed so out of character, and yet if Jenna had admitted it…
There was a sharp pain lodged in his chest that felt strangely like betrayal.
He felt furious with himself that Jenna’s behaviour could affect him so deeply.
It was just disappointment, he told himself, disappointment in her, but more importantly in his own judgement.
He’d thought she was honest. He’d thought she was special. He was an idiot.
‘Right,’ he repeated. He realised that his voice was gruff and cleared his throat. ‘Well, thank God our grandparents missed this. And are you all right, Rach? This can’t be pleasant for you.’
‘No, it’s not.’ Rachel’s voice had warmed at his question. ‘I’m okay, thanks. Upset, of course, because I liked Jenna too—’
‘Yeah.’ Owen didn’t want to talk about Jenna.
‘I’m back at the hall now. I’ll see you in a second.
’ He turned into the driveway and screeched to a halt on the gravel sweep.
The doors to the hall were open and the light spilled out from the foyer inside.
A police car was drawn up by the door. Whilst a small group of curious onlookers milled around outside, Steve Besant, the chief security guard, was holding them at bay with a self-important swagger.
Owen found that he wanted to punch the man for detaining Jenna, but he’d only been doing his job.
Steve looked as though he wanted to speak to him, but Owen pushed past, into the hall.
‘I’m looking for Rachel—’ he started to say to the harried-looking receptionist, but then he stopped.
The door to the waiting room was open and he could see his sister inside.
He could also see Jenna, perched on the edge of one of the leather sofas whilst a young police officer sat opposite, writing in a notebook.
As though she sensed his presence, Jenna looked up and the words died on her lips.
She was very pale, the freckles standing out across her cheekbones and the vivid red-gold of her hair dark in the lamplight.
For a moment she looked so like the portrait of Marris that Owen caught his breath.
When Jenna saw him, a light leapt in her eyes that made his own heart stupidly miss a beat in return, but then she saw the expression on his face and the light faded and she looked pale and wan again.
She dropped her gaze. Owen walked straight past the door, deliberately avoiding looking at her again but aware that his heart was racing; that he wanted to go in there and take her in his arms, tell her everything would be fine.
Damn it, it would be fine. He’d been fine before, without her, and he would be again.
‘Ah, there you are, Owen.’ Rachel came hurrying out into the hall.
She also looked pale and her eyes were tired.
The elegant evening dress in which she had started the night looked crumpled and she had pulled an old jacket over it.
‘Thanks for coming back.’ She glanced across to the waiting room.
‘They’re letting Jenna go for now but they’re going to interview her formally tomorrow in Wantage with a solicitor present.
The Swan Power Foundation is pressing charges, of course.
’ She gave a little hopeless shrug at whatever she read in Owen’s face.
‘I’m sorry, but we really do have to make an example… ’
Owen wasn’t listening. He watched as Jenna came out of the waiting room and stood for a moment in the centre of the hall.
Everyone was looking at her; the security guards, the small crowd of onlookers, the receptionist…
In the glare of the chandelier, she looked totally lost, her expression a little dazed.
Most of all she looked shockingly lonely.
Then she turned and walked away, the crowd parting silently to let her pass, down the steps and out into the dark.
Owen felt something snap inside him. There was something very wrong here and he wasn’t simply going to stand by and let it happen.
‘Damn it!’ he said explosively, and he set off after her. Behind him he could hear Rachel’s voice:
‘Owen! No! If you speak to Jenna, you could compromise the criminal investigation—’
He didn’t even break stride.
* * *
Jenna stood on the lawn outside Winterhill Hall and allowed the huge shadow of a cypress tree to swallow her up.
Having come this far, driven by the need simply to get away from everyone in the hall, she wasn’t sure that she could walk much further.
She was shaking again and she felt frozen inside and out.
She looked around reflexively for her car and then remembered that she had left it at Gibbet Hill.
It seemed half a lifetime ago. And it was at least a half mile away.
‘Fuck it!’
The fury tore through her then, fury at the situation, fury with Bree for running off and leaving her to sort all of this out, fury with Owen for that look of utter contempt and disdain he’d given her as he’d walked past her and out of her life, and most of all, fury with herself because it was indisputably her own fault.
This whole misconceived mess was her responsibility and if only she’d thought it through better…
‘Jenna?’
She hadn’t seen Owen follow her outside.
That was all she needed. She couldn’t face him now, absolutely could not face his justifiable recriminations, or worse, him telling her that she was not the person he’d thought she was.
Jenna wrapped her arms tightly about herself.
Why was it so damned cold? She wanted to be alone, curled up in bed under a warm duvet, and preferably not have to talk to anyone ever again.
‘Go away,’ she said. It was childish, she knew, but it was the best she could do under the somewhat stressful circumstances. ‘Didn’t you hear your sister? You can’t talk to me!’
‘I’ll make my own decisions on that,’ Owen said.
He was standing a few feet away, in a circle of light thrown by the coach lanterns by the front entrance.
Despite the lateness of the hour and everyone’s general state of dishevelment, he looked elegant rather than disreputable: he’d taken off his tie, but otherwise he was immaculate in his evening jacket, crisp white shirt and dress trousers.
What she looked like, Jenna shuddered to imagine.
She was probably channelling grave-robber chic, with soil on her hands and cobwebs in her hair.
‘It’s very late,’ she said. ‘I’m tired and I need to get home. If you would excuse me—’
Owen cut through her pitiful attempts at formality as decisively as ever.
‘Of course,’ he said, with exemplary courtesy. ‘May I walk you back to your car? I assume you left it at the priory car park?’
‘No,’ Jenna said. ‘I mean, no, I didn’t leave my car at the car park. It’s at Gibbet Hill.’
‘That would explain why you had no idea there was an event on tonight, then,’ Owen said.
Jenna thought she saw a flash of humour in his eyes.
‘If only you’d driven into the village, you would have seen immediately how busy it was and you could have called off your expedition, or rearranged it for a different night. ’
‘This isn’t funny, Owen,’ Jenna snapped. She was aware of a strong urge to cry. That hint of humour reminded her so painfully of the Owen she had been starting to know before she’d messed it all up.
‘You’re right.’ The amusement had gone from his voice. ‘It’s very serious. What are they charging you with, Jenna? Trespassing, criminal damage, disturbing a burial site.’ He sounded as though he was ticking the crimes off on his fingers. ‘Also, theft—’
‘Not theft!’ Jenna said. ‘We didn’t take anything! And we haven’t damaged anything.’ Frustration boiled up in her. ‘Technically we weren’t even trespassing, because there is a public footpath across the park.’
‘But you were disturbing a burial site,’ Owen pointed out.
‘And then apparently you pretended that it was all just a bit of a joke, a search for lost treasure.’ His voice was dry and she saw him shake his head.
‘That doesn’t sound like you, Jenna. I know you.
It doesn’t add up. So don’t try and bullshit me, like you’ve tried to mislead Rachel and the police.
What’s going on? I think I deserve an explanation, don’t you? ’
He did, of course. Jenna couldn’t deny it. If there was anyone whom she owed an apology and an explanation it was Owen, who had trusted her and seen her smash that trust to pieces tonight. She was just trying to find a way around it all when he spoke again and his words completely destroyed her.
‘Are you in some sort of trouble, Jenna?’ he asked. His voice was very gentle. ‘Can I help?’