CHAPTER 38
Ella
I turn to Jude, still on the ground, my body stinging. “Where the hell were you? You did nothing.”
She looks at me for a moment in a way that I can’t read.
“What the…” She stops, turns away and heads down the drive. I scramble to my feet, my voice desperate and hoarse.
“Jude!”
“No,” she whirls around, “I’ve done everything for you.
Whoever is doing this could have Immi, you do realise that?
And yes, Benji knows Genie. Or he used to.
We have no actual proof. And you’re going around flinging yourself at cars.
Immi is gone, and the only person who might have any idea of what happened, you threatened, again. ”
Her finger jabs at me as she speaks. “I want to help you, El, but you’re on a sabotage route that I can’t follow. Now, I’m going back to Immi’s, then maybe to her shop. I suggest you calm down before you come and find us.”
Before I can respond, she is gone, her car still sitting in the driveway. I don’t bother to shout after her. My fingers rub the spot between my lungs where she jabbed me, the skin aching.
She’s right. He was the only person who could help us.
I turn to his house, sitting quiet and empty. There’s only one way to find out what he knows.
The rock shatters the back window with a crash, and I don’t bother to wait to see what happens next. Benji set no alarm when he left, so I know that nothing will go off. I wrap my hand in my jumper, smashing the last pieces out of the doorframe. I saw it on a TV show and it works surprisingly well.
It’s quiet as I step across the threshold, darkness around every corner. I pull out my phone, the torch guiding me. It’s decorated much as I imagined it would be, with heavy, bold artwork set against crisp white walls. The layout is different, with very few rooms downstairs. So I head up.
If Benji took Immi, then there would be something, some clues.
Potentially, he would leave her here, perhaps tied up.
I shake the thought away, but my mind spirals.
I can hear Nate in a distant memory, the way he always lectured me.
Over the years, I changed, and in small moments I think of Nate being with me.
Perhaps while on a boat off the coast of Italy, or entering a VIP gallery show.
I had always wished, in the quiet spaces between the clinked glasses and expensive outfits, that Nate could see me.
Now, I’m glad he never saw who I’ve become.
The stair creaks as I reach the top of the landing, which is wide and long.
Three doors lead off it. Benji’s bedroom sits open dead ahead.
It’s a big room, with an ensuite, a dressing room and a large balcony like ours.
I push open the doors of the balcony, the sun sitting low in the sky as dusk falls.
From here, I can see my house, my beautiful garden, and the privacy I thought I had.
A room on the top floor is lit up. Rufus is probably home but something about the single orange glow makes me sad.
I tilt my head, working out which room it is. It’s the spare bedroom.
My pulse quickens as a sound echoes down the hallway. Someone is here with me. I turn, the silence of the house suddenly heavy and weighing me down. The torch moves shakily across the room, waiting to reveal who is here.
“Immi?” I whisper, to no reply. Could it be Benji?
What lengths would he go to? I step back into the room, my fingers trembling, so the light sways as I walk.
I want to call out, but I press myself against the side and wait.
My eyes open wide, as though this will help me hear better through the low light.
My breath hangs heavy. There’s a familiar sound.
What is that? Soft padding across the floor.
A cat meanders across the hallway, stopping to stare straight at my light, its eyes shining. A slow release of air escapes from my lips at the sight of it.
“Oh. Hey, you.” I lower to my knees and offer out my hand, but it simply stares at me, before showing no interest and walking away.
Guided by torchlight, I search through the room.
My teeth work nervously over my bottom lip as I search for evidence.
There has to be something. I start in the ensuite and move out, rummaging through clothes, toiletries and cupboards.
Anything and everything that I can get my hands on.
Frustration builds with each moment as I draw a blank over and over again.
There are one or two of Immi’s clothes neatly hung in the wardrobes, a pair of shoes on the shoe rail.
Her toothbrush is pink and engraved. A dressing gown on the back of the door.
But nothing that offers information which I can use.
I suck air in through my teeth; I need to find his desk.
That’s where people keep all their secrets.
As I turn out of the ensuite, the dressing table in the corner of the room catches my eye.
There are no bedside tables, so it holds a selection of things.
A vase of flowers, a box of cufflinks, some aftershave, a journal and a charging port.
I thumb the journal, choosing pages at random.
It seems to be something almost meditative.
Affirmations are neatly scrawled. I run my finger over the writing.
It’s Benji’s. A new side of his personality unfolds from the pages.
I will travel to East Asia to better learn about Confucius VS civil law, an entry reads.
Another entry reads: I will take a sabbatical to provide legal aid in Croatia.
They are affirmations, each is dotted and crossed.
The paper is smooth as I run my finger over his writing.
This is so unlike him, the image of Benji reforms in my mind.
I think back to his behaviour and the cynicism he showed in my work.
Were his questions coming from a place of judgment or curiosity?
He works in accessible law, but I don’t think I’ve ever asked him what he actually does.
There’s a book on modern slavery next to the journal. Have I got him all wrong?
My eyes land on a series of photo frames that sit on either side of the small table.
In the middle is a picture of Immi and Benji, arms around each other as they stand at the top of a rocky mountain.
Immi has a cap and her eyes are shaded. Benji’s face is beaming.
But he’s not looking at the camera like Immi; he looks at her.
An adoration I’ve only seen in passing from him.
I always thought that it was him controlling her, but things shift as I take the picture in my hand.
The way Immi would tap his shoulder when he spoke in group settings, the look she gives him when he eats, the constant reminders.
I’ve never known them not to be together.
In fact, when I first moved in, they were engaged, and she broke it off.
She told me he cheated. I place the picture back on the side with a gentle scrape.
To the left is a picture of Benji, young, bright and smiling.
He’s wearing a graduation cap and gown. His expression is so infectious, his cheeks rosy with glee, that I find myself smiling back down at him.
I pick up the picture to the right, turning it towards the light.
I bring it closer, squinting at the familiarity of the faces.
A young girl stands on either side of two beaming parents.
She’s young, her hair loose so it frames her face, and a graduation gown falling off her right shoulder.
There’s a nervous smile on her face, which is thin and gaunt.
In juxtaposition to Benji, she looks absent, staring through the photographer.
But it’s not her that makes my stomach flip.
The man next to her, his thick hairy arm around her shoulder, his smile not reaching his eyes.
A short buzz cut and a crinkled shirt. My eyes dart between the two of them, trying to connect what I see.
It takes a moment, staring deep into her eyes, to realise that I’m looking at Immi.
A younger Immi before all the filler and the injections.
A nose job, I would guess, too. When her skin glowed and her body was thin with youth.
Robbie’s dad stands next to her.
The picture slips from my fingers. The frame cracking as it hits the floor.
Immi and Robbie.
Robbie and Immi are related.
Immi was there.
Immi was there the day Nate disappeared.
A cold sweat sweeps down over my body as I stumble back through the house, blinking against my blurred vision. My memories tumble over each other, trying to connect themselves into something logical, but it doesn’t make sense. Because if Immi knew Robbie, if Immi was there that night, then–
Immi is Genie, she’s working with Benji.
The thought catches as my fingers smudge the glass of the back door. Bile rising and pushing through my gritted teeth as I crash into the cold evening air.
I need to get to Jude.