Chapter 20
TWENTY
The words ring through my ears, slamming around my head, even though I knew the minute the caller said she was Alicia’s mum. I knew. Alicia is dead. That’s the reason she didn’t show up last night – she couldn’t. My stomach spasms, and it’s a moment before I can speak.
‘I’m so sorry. What happened?’
‘She didn’t . . . we were meant to go for coffee this morning, but she didn’t turn up.
So I went over to her place. I knew something was wrong even before I got to her house.
Alicia never oversleeps, and never misses meeting up, not even when she’s sick.
’ Sydney stops, and I can hear her blowing her nose.
‘I’ve got my own key,’ she continues. ‘When I got there, I found her lying on the bed, and . . .’ She breaks into heavy sobs.
‘It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me.’ Even though I want to know – I need to know.
‘There were empty pill bottles on the floor. And wine bottles. So much wine. Alicia doesn’t drink that much.
’ She breaks down again, heart-wrenching heaves that make me desperate to reach out to this poor woman and offer her comfort, although I know it wouldn’t help.
‘It looks like she . . . killed herself.’ Sydney howls this time, a deafening cacophony that forces me to hold the phone away from my ear.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say.
‘I wanted to let you know. As you were meeting her last night. You must have been good friends – you’ve sent her a lot of messages.’
I try to recall if there’s anything in our messages that might make her mum question why we were meeting, but I don’t believe there is. ‘I really liked her,’ I say, because it’s the truth. ‘Alicia didn’t seem depressed. She was . . . full of life.’
‘She wasn’t depressed,’ Alicia’s mum says. ‘I would have known. I know my daughter. She was in good spirits when I saw her the other day. We’d gone shopping together. She bought some new clothes – why would she do that if she was planning to take her own life?’
She wouldn’t. I don’t believe for one second that Alicia did that to herself. I push aside Xander’s comments about Alicia stalking him – I didn’t believe it before, and nothing has changed my mind.
‘I have to go,’ Alicia’s mum says.
Any words I could offer are futile. ‘Thanks for letting me know. Again, I’m so sorry.’
‘I’ll send you the details of the funeral. I can’t even think about it now. I’m sorry.’
‘Can I just ask – and sorry, you don’t have to tell me – were there any recent messages from someone called Xander on Alicia’s phone?’
There’s a pause. ‘No. No one called Xander. Why? Who is he?’
‘Just someone she knew. But they haven’t been in touch?’
There’s a pause, and I sense she wants to ask more, but she must feel too depleted to question me further. ‘Bye, Ria.’
I stare at my phone, all the while conscious that I have to tell Declan what’s just happened, to give life to the words I’ve just heard. It’s more than likely he’s picked up on it from my side of the conversation, but I need to fill in the gaps.
‘What’s happened?’ Declan asks, after giving me a moment. ‘I think I can work it out, but—’
‘Alicia’s mum found her dead in her house this morning.
That’s why she didn’t turn up last night.
’ I force back tears. From the little I knew of her, I don’t think Alicia would want me to fall apart.
She’d want me to keep fighting, to find out the truth about what happened to Kimmy, and show everyone that I’m not losing my mind.
‘Oh God, that’s . . .’ Declan says. ‘What happened?’
‘Her mum found her with empty pill bottles. Wine bottles, too.’ I pause, trying to make sense of news I heard only seconds ago, which refuses to register. ‘But she doesn’t believe Alicia killed herself, and neither do I.’
Declan frowns. ‘She’s the one who wanted to meet you last night, right? It doesn’t add up.’
I nod. ‘I saw her on Thursday. Two days ago. And she was fired up about what we were doing, determined to find out what happened to Xander’s ex-wife.
’ My throat is dry and I’m desperate for water but can’t seem to move.
‘Think about everything that’s happened, Declan.
And that message I got just now was clearly a threat.
Someone’s been trying to silence me since I first said I’d seen a woman being killed out on the green.
They’ve tried to make me out to be insane.
Why would anyone do that if they weren’t trying to cover something up? ’
Declan watches me for a moment. ‘If you’re right,’ he says, reaching for his can of Coke, ‘whoever’s doing this has messed up big time, because now I’ve seen that message.
And I’ve been sitting right next to you so I know you couldn’t have sent it to yourself.
’ He pauses. ‘I think you should go to the police.’
‘I’m planning to. As soon as I hear back about something.
It could be evidence, Declan. I’ve got someone tracing the origins of the video that was sent to me.
My friend will try his best to find the source of the message, even if he can’t get the video itself, though apparently they get stored somewhere on WhatsApp, and sometimes they can be retrieved. ’
Declan frowns. ‘Video?’
His confusion makes me realise that I haven’t told him about it; it was Alicia I’d told. I explain it to him now and watch a shadow fall across his face.
‘Someone really doesn’t want you talking about this,’ he says.
‘It won’t work. Everything that’s happened has made me more determined.
’ I stand and walk to the window. Being in my old flat in London makes Silverleaf feel unreal.
It would be easy to be lulled into a false sense of security because I’m not in my house, with eyes watching my every move.
But it wouldn’t take much for anyone to track me down here.
‘I have to be honest, I’m kind of scared for you, Ria,’ Declan says, echoing what I should feel but won’t let myself. ‘Sending you that video, it’s . . . sick.’
‘You should go,’ I insist. ‘Don’t get involved in this. You’ll be safer if you stay out of it.’
‘You do know that’s impossible now, right? I’m involved, and I want to help. I can’t just walk away from this.’ He checks his watch. ‘I’ve got a bit of time before I have to meet my friends.’
I sigh. Now that Declan is on this crusade, I get the feeling he won’t abandon it. ‘At least let me make you some lunch.’
‘Ah, yeah, that would be breakfast. Haven’t eaten yet.’
I smile. ‘Fry-up it is, then.’
Cooking keeps me busy, and as Declan tucks into bacon and eggs and I sit and stare at my toast, the image of Alicia floods my brain. ‘Xander,’ I say, almost to myself.
Declan stops chewing and looks up.
‘He could have killed Kimmy and then didn’t want Alicia finding proof of what he did. And I’m the only other person who knows.’
‘Um, and me now,’ Declan says, his leg twitching.
He’s right: I’ve put him in danger by involving him in this. ‘That’s exactly why you shouldn’t be here. Thankfully no one knows I’ve been talking to you. I don’t think we’ve spoken in my house, where someone could have been listening. I checked for hidden devices but couldn’t find anything.’
Declan considers this. ‘If someone wants to hide a listening device, they’ll make sure it’s not easy to find.’
We fall silent and I listen to the thrum of traffic outside, a welcoming contrast to the silence of the house. And for the first time, I’m desperate for this not to be real but instead an imaginary scenario caused by my head trauma.
Declan lets out a deep breath. ‘I’m worried about you staying here on your own.’
‘Better here than at Silverleaf. I want to confront Leo here.’ Even though this is the very place I was attacked. ‘What were your mum and dad arguing about?’ I ask. ‘You said you woke up early this morning when you heard them fighting?’
Declan stares at his drink can, running his hand around the rim. ‘It was nothing. They were just having a go at each other about me.’ He rolls his eyes. ‘Parents, eh? Mine are always moaning about something I’ve done.’ He looks away.
‘It was about me, wasn’t it?’
He doesn’t answer.
‘Please, Declan. Just tell me. All I ever want from people is the truth, whatever it is.’
‘I don’t care what my parents say. I can make up my own mind about things. And . . . I know you’re a good person, Ria. I think Mum knows it, too; she’s just scared. And she’s been brainwashed. They all have. By the lord and master of Silverleaf.’ He rolls his eyes.
With a deep sigh, I nod. ‘Giles. But this goes way deeper than that. I really think Xander’s done something, and I think Eleanor is covering up for him.
Or, I don’t know – maybe it was Eleanor who strangled Kimmy – I thought it was a man, but I couldn’t tell.
And Kimmy was on the ground straight away so there’s no way to tell how much taller her attacker was. ’
Declan frowns. ‘Kimmy was always at the gym – I don’t think Eleanor could have overpowered her.’
‘Xander, then.’
‘But we have no proof.’
‘Not yet,’ I say. ‘Not until I know who sent me that video. That will point me in the right direction, at least.’
‘Well, let’s hope you find out quickly.’ Declan pushes back his chair. ‘I’d better get going. Will you be okay?’
‘I survived an attack and a fall from a balcony. ’Course I’ll be okay. I’ll double-lock the door. And I’m two floors up. I’d like to see someone try to get in here.’ The laugh I give is forced; I’m only too aware that I was attacked in this very flat.
I see Declan to the door, watching him tie his trainers.
‘I’m sorry about your friend,’ he says as he stands up.
‘This is so messed up.’ His phone rings, and he checks who’s calling, choosing to ignore it.
‘Mum,’ he says. ‘She’s . . . let’s just say, a bit overprotective.
’ He chuckles. ‘And that’s being kind.’ He shakes his head.
‘When I told her I was crashing at a friend’s place tonight, she almost had a panic attack.
Started harping on about how dangerous London is. ’
I smile. ‘She just cares about you. It can’t be easy being a mum.’
‘No, you’re right. I get it. I just wish she’d give me some space sometimes. Anyway, I’ll stop by in the morning on my way home, just to check on you.’
I thank him and close the door, the bitter sting of tears for Alicia pricking at my eyes.
As evening draws in, I find it hard to focus on anything. I sit on the balcony, my book untouched on the small table, and try to force a memory of falling over the edge. But it’s irretrievable, and I’m sure it won’t come back after all this time.
Even though I barely knew her, Alicia’s death has devastated me, as has Kimmy’s. I have to get justice for these two women, no matter the cost. And all the while, Leo’s lie about being in New York sits like lead in my stomach.
I still don’t feel hungry enough to eat much, but I hunt through the cupboards and pull out a packet of crackers. I spread butter on them and take them out to the balcony.
It’s chillier now the sun has set, and I sit scrolling through my phone, reading the messages Leo and I have exchanged since he’s been away, searching for anything I might have missed.
There are too many unknowns. Where is he?
Why has he lied about going to New York?
I type out a reply to his last one, asking him why he’s lying, but my thumb hovers over the send icon. I don’t press it.
I delete the text and rewrite it; something casual, telling him I miss him and hope we can sort things out between us. It doesn’t go through.
For over two hours I sit on the balcony with my phone, searching again for information on Kimmy Gould. But it’s as though she never existed.
When my eyes grow heavy, I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face. I stare at my reflection; it’s not just my face that feels unfamiliar, but this whole life I’m living.
I’m climbing into bed when my phone pings with a message from Johnny, asking if I can talk. Immediately, I call him. ‘Do you have news?’ I ask, aware of the urgency in my voice.
‘I do,’ Johnny says. ‘And . . . it’s strange. I just don’t get it. But I’ve checked it over and over.’
‘What? What is it?’ I hold my breath.
‘That video you were sent? I was able to retrieve it and . . . it’s not a deepfake. It’s one hundred per cent real.’