CHAPTER 57

Warren steps into the room. He’s in the same hoody he was wearing when he broke into Dorothea’s study and I want to laugh at him and say, ‘What, seriously? I’ve already seen your face!’ And then I see he’s holding a knife.

He brandishes it at me. It’s one of those flick-knife things. Is Annette intent on making her grandson a murderer?

With one swift movement Annette pushes me back onto the chair. From beneath the table Solly starts to growl.

‘Where’s the key?’ asks Annette.

‘It’s on my key ring. In my coat.’

‘Which coat?’

‘It’s upstairs in the hallway. On the coat rack. Yellow raincoat.’

Without saying anything further, Warren leaves the room.

Annette looks down at me. ‘Don’t look so worried, Imogen.

We’re not planning on hurting you. I never wanted it to come to this.

’ She smiles at me sadly. ‘I never wanted any of this, you have to believe me. I loved Dorothea. She was my best friend and I never wanted to hurt her. Or Maisie. This wasn’t planned.

I never thought any of it would end like this. ’

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Burn the sculpture. Destroy it.’

‘It’s a waste of time. Like I already said, a detective has already been here and taken photos.’

‘I don’t care about photos …’

I realize I was right when I hit on the idea of evidence buried in the sculpture.

What is it? And where? Is it one of the trinkets?

My mum’s brooch? But I dismiss this idea.

How could the brooch implicate Annette? I think, whatever it is, it must be hidden in either the wool jacket or the hiking boots.

I’m relieved that DI Shirley’s team have already collected the sculpture. Although I won’t be telling Annette that.

Warren reappears with a petrol can. ‘Got the key. Come on, Grandma. We need to go.’

‘I’m sorry, Imogen,’ says Annette, not looking particularly sorry at all.

And then I realize. They’re not only going to set fire to the sculpture, but they’re also going to start a fire inside the villa.

‘Annette … don’t do this. Don’t make Warren your accomplice and ruin his life too …’

Warren starts pouring petrol around me and I make a dart for the door, but Annette blocks my way. She pushes me backwards so that I stumble against the chair. She’s stronger than she looks. Solly stands up and starts to bark at her.

I try to get up. The smell of petrol fills the air, making me cough.

And I collapse onto the floor, the fumes filling my lungs.

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