Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
Johnny’s words are loud and clear, but I can’t make sense of them. ‘I don’t understand. How can it be real?’
‘I can’t explain it,’ Johnny says. ‘You’re not dead, and your attack happened in your flat. The place in the video isn’t the flat, is it?’
‘No,’ I say. ‘It’s outside somewhere. But it’s dark, so I guess it could be the communal garden here.’
‘Maybe. All I know is that the video is real, Ria. Several people have forensically analysed it, and it hasn’t been tampered with.’
‘And there’s no way it could have been made to seem real?’
‘On the surface, yeah. But not when you go into all the back-end stuff, like I did. Do you want me to try to explain how?’
Part of me does, but I know I won’t be able to take it in when my head is hammering and starting to cloud over. I trust Johnny; that will be enough. ‘You’re absolutely sure? There’s no chance you could be wrong.’
‘No chance whatsoever. You can get someone else to check if you want extra reassurance.’
‘No, I trust your judgement. The police will be able to verify it, won’t they?’
‘For sure, yes,’ Johnny says. ‘And I think you should take it to them straight away. I’m still trying to analyse who sent it, but it’s taking a while. I’ll send it to you now. I’m sorry, Ria. I know this only stirs things up.’
He’s right. This only raises more questions – disturbing ones.
‘Thanks, though. You didn’t have to do this for me.’
‘I wanted to help,’ he says. ‘Don’t feel like I have, but . . .’
‘You have.’ I get out of bed and head to the window and peer through the blinds, looking at the communal garden below.
The patio. Where I was found almost dead by Leo.
My stomach lurches and my hand clamps over my mouth.
‘I have to go,’ I say. ‘Thank you.’ I hang up without waiting for a reply and rush back to the balcony.
The video comes through from Johnny, but I can’t bring myself to watch it.
The image is still ingrained in my head from the only time I saw it.
I go through all the possibilities, and only one thing makes sense: it was me in the video, the night of my attack.
It wasn’t in this flat; it was outside somewhere.
I glance over the balcony. Was it out there?
The only thing I can be sure of is that Leo hasn’t told me the whole truth about what happened.
Was it even Peter Harvey who attacked me?
Sunlight floods through the bedroom window, rousing me from a fitful sleep. I’m not surprised to find it’s almost nine thirty, not when I was up half the night.
The buzzer goes and I rush to look through the peephole, expecting it to be Leo, knowing that I’m not yet prepared to face his lie. But, of course, it’s Declan, as promised, looking fresh-eyed and wide awake, unlike me.
‘You okay?’ he asks as I let him in and shut the door. He takes in my appearance – unbrushed hair, yesterday’s joggers and T-shirt – and frowns. ‘Stupid question.’
I bustle him into the living room and tell him about the video I’d assumed was fake, and how Johnny called last night and told me the video that I assumed was fake was real.
Declan stares at me as if I’ve lost my mind. ‘But . . . I don’t get it. How can it be real? Didn’t you say it happened in your flat? You weren’t attacked outside.’
‘I didn’t think so.’ I point to the balcony. ‘But I did end up outside, under my flat. Surely that could only happen from a fall? But I don’t get it – it didn’t look as though I was already injured from the fall.’ I don’t tell Declan that I have a copy of the video – I don’t want to see it again.
Declan still looks confused.
‘I know the mind does strange things, even at the best of times, but I’ve always wondered why I don’t feel anything, being out there.
’ I walk to the doors and throw them open, stepping out into the bright morning light.
‘What if I didn’t fall?’ I say, the words sounding odd when, for so long, this is what I’ve believed.
What I thought I knew. ‘I think Leo lied to me. I just don’t get why. ’
Again, Declan stares at me with his mouth hanging open, and I know he must be struggling with this, just as I did last night. ‘But . . . Leo’s cool. He’s the only one out of all the men in that place I have any respect for.’
I smile, despite everything. He has described the man I’ve always known. This new version of reality, of my husband, is too painful to accept. ‘It’s the only thing that makes sense. And I need to know why.’
Before he can respond, Declan’s phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out to answer, and when he starts talking, I can tell it’s Georgia. ‘But it will take me a while to get home,’ he says. He falls silent. ‘All right, all right. See you.’
He stares at his phone. ‘I’m sure you heard that. Mum. We’ve all been summoned to Giles’s, apparently. An emergency. But if you need me—’
‘No, you have to go. I need to know what Giles is up to, and you’re the only one who’ll tell me.’
He considers this for a moment. ‘Are you sure? When is Leo due back?’
‘Supposedly today. His fictional flight is due to land any minute.’
‘And he’ll come here?’
‘That’s what he said. And I have to face him. I want answers.’
Declan rushes to me and gives me a brief hug, taking me by surprise. ‘Be careful. I’ll let you know what this stupid meeting is about.’
When he’s gone, I sit on the sofa, overcome with fatigue, to wait for Leo.
I’m sure he’ll come straight here rather than going home.
But then I remember how one summons from Giles will most likely make Leo go running to him.
I send him a text to make sure he’ll come here first, telling him I need to see him urgently.
But by noon, it’s clear that Leo isn’t coming.
And now I have no choice but to confront him in Silverleaf Heights.
Standing outside the gate, all I feel is defiance. I should be terrified that someone within this gated community is capable of murder, but anger erases my fear. Of course, the code I tap in doesn’t work, so I’m forced to message Declan again to ask for it.
He replies straight away, telling me Giles has just changed it to seven, five, one, one. He adds that Giles has demanded no one give it to me, and he ends with an angry-face emoji.
Opening our front door feels strange, as if I’m breaking into someone else’s home. It’s cold and uninviting, too bare and soulless, and I doubt I would ever have been able to make it homely.
The first thing I do is check the kitchen, but Declan was right – whoever put that dead bird on the floor has cleared up any trace of blood.
The odour of bleach lingers in the air, making me gag.
Someone could be in the house right now, waiting for me.
I grab the largest knife from the block on the counter and grip it tightly, walking through the rooms, throwing open doors and brandishing my weapon.
I remind myself that all the neighbours have been summoned to Giles’s, and while I have no idea how long it might last, I’m hoping that means none of them should be in here, but that’s small comfort until I’ve searched the whole house.
Cameras will have filmed me coming in, if there aren’t already some planted inside, so it’s only a matter of time before someone comes for me.
Will it be my husband? I don’t want to believe he was the one who strangled Kimmy.
Leo said he was at work in the hospital that night, but how can I believe that when lies fall so easily from his mouth?
For hours, nothing happens. There’s no sign of Leo, and every time I try to call him, his phone remains off. No movement outside; none of the neighbours venturing in or out. Whatever they’re doing at Giles’s, everything is coming to a head tonight, I can feel it.
I send Declan a text asking what’s going on over there, but when he replies, he tells me he didn’t go.
He’d had a row with his mum and refused to leave the house, insisting he needed to study.
He urges me to call if I need him, but I won’t widen the rift between him and Georgia. I will do this by myself.
I send a message to the WhatsApp group, reading it over and over before I’m sure it’s ready to send. They might have set up a new one that I’m not in, but they’re still all in this old one. Once I’ve done this, there’s no going back.
I know who killed Kimmy Gould. And so will the police.
I track who’s read it, and when everyone except Leo has, I sit back and wait. I’m here in Silverleaf and I’ve forced whoever’s doing this to play their hand. And when they do, I’ll be ready.
I stare at the knife in my hands, sickened by the thought that I might have to use it. But it’s all I’ve got, and I have to do what I can to defend myself.
Night falls fast, despite the empty hours of waiting, and when darkness sets in, so, too, does a deep sense of fear.
I sit on the sofa clutching the knife, listening to the silence.
I’m desperate for the background noise of London, the constant thrum of traffic and the sense that another human being is never far away.
I don’t put the lights on, and the blinds are open.
If anyone could see me now, they’d be convinced I really have lost my mind.
But still I wait.
At some point, I must have fallen asleep, and I wake with a start.
I check my phone: it’s eleven twenty. No one has responded to my message.
I peer through the window from the vantage point of my seated position in the shadows and there are no lights on in any of the houses.
It’s as if I’m the only one in on the crescent.
But then something breaks the silence. Slow breaths. Someone is here. I jolt up and clutch the knife.
And when I turn to the doorway, it’s Leo standing there.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘I didn’t want to wake you. You look so peaceful when you’re asleep.’