Chapter 46
As Jim stands before me, Dorrit’s words about lonely people knowing how to spot other lonely people echo in my mind, and all of a sudden, everything makes sense.
The tennis ball, the daily walks on the edges of Bramblethorpe: Alexa Clarke was lonely, but she wasn’t alone.
Not since she had made contact with someone who was as lonely as she was.
A person so on the edges of society, no one would know she was meeting them out here.
A person who had the power to hurt her with no one ever finding out.
A scream bubbles in my throat, but it gets trapped there as Jim steps forward.
‘You’re not going to run over my dog today, are you?’ he asks, but his downturned features harden when he sees my alarmed expression. ‘So, you’ve figured out about me and Alexa then?’
I force myself to nod.
‘Are you going to tell the police?’
The question dries my mouth. ‘Do I need to?’
‘That depends. Is it suspicious to you that someone might want to befriend me?’ When I don’t reply, Jim’s eyes narrow. ‘You’re looking at me in a way I don’t like. What, do you think I’m going to hurt you?’
Jim’s ominous words and the isolation of the field heighten my paranoia. ‘I—I don’t know,’ I stutter.
‘In that case, maybe it’s time to end this conversation,’ Jim replies, then he reaches for something in his coat pocket.
Finally, a scream escapes me, ragged and terrified.
Jim tilts his head before delving deeper into his pocket and pulling out a bright red ball. He holds it in the air for me to see then hurls it across the field. Bernie dashes after the ball, parting the tall grass with ease. I watch him go, aware of Jim’s stare burning into me as I do.
‘You said Alexa befriended you?’ I manage to ask.
‘She did.’
The swish of the grass stops momentarily as Bernie picks up the ball, then begins again as he zooms back to us. Jim strides forward to meet him. The problem is, by walking forward, he moves closer to me.
‘Talking to me isn’t a crime, you know,’ he says. ‘People around here might act like it is, but it’s not.’
I flinch at his sharp tone, but Jim is too busy accepting the ball from an overexcited Bernie to care about my discomfort.
He holds the sphere in the air, toying with Bernie before propelling the ball into the distance once more.
It soars as if thrown by a professional cricketer, and it takes all my willpower not to dissolve over the sheer strength of Jim’s body.
We watch Bernie disappear into the overgrown grass, the sound of his excited barks contrasting with the mounting tension.
‘The police have taken Otis,’ Jim says. ‘They’re clearing out of the house as we speak.’
If my heart was pounding before, it’s nothing compared to the rate it’s beating now. I picture DS Rani and DS Mullins driving away under the impression that they have the culprit. The house abandoned and empty. Me hollering for help, and no one there to provide it.
‘They’ve got the wrong person, if you ask me,’ Jim continues. ‘Useless with grief and not there when he should have been, but I don’t think Otis hurt Alexa.’ Jim’s eyes lock on mine. ‘Seems like you share my belief.’
All my senses are on high alert, begging me to run, but as Jim continues to approach, the only thing I seem to be able to do is remain frozen. Terrified, my eyes scour his oversized coat and its pockets. Pockets containing dog toys and treats, and who knows what else.
That thought sends me stumbling backwards, and the darkness in Jim cements. ‘Is there something you want to ask me?’ he says.
When I don’t reply, Jim moves forward again, closing the space between us until he could touch me if he stretched his arm out. Bernie chooses that moment to rejoin us. The ball sits in his mouth, but the sight of his wagging tail can’t calm my erratic heartbeat.
‘Good boy,’ Jim says, accepting the ball before glancing at me. ‘Go on. I know you want to ask something. Spit it out.’
The grass swallows my trembling legs as I step backwards. ‘Why haven’t you gone to the police to say you were friends with Alexa?’
‘What good would that have done?’
‘You could have told them what Alexa was like. How she was struggling. How she felt about Otis.’
‘What Alexa told me was private. Personal. Not to be shared.’ Jim tosses the ball in the air and catches it. Bernie barks at the teasing, the sound jarring my already fraught nerves.
‘Well, you could have at least helped the police figure out what she did every day.’
Jim shakes his head. ‘That’s not my job.’
‘Alexa’s missing. If you had nothing to hide, you would have gone to them.’
Jim throws and catches the ball once more. The sound of it hitting his coarse skin rings out like a slap. ‘Like I said, it’s not my job.’
‘Some friend you are,’ I retort, then immediately know it was the wrong thing to say. Jim’s face clouds over.
‘You think if I’d gone to the police, they’d have listened? Someone like Alexa talking to someone like me? Tut tut, they’d say. Look at the size of him, listen to the rumours. It’s got to be him.’
‘But if you’re innocent—’
‘Since when do people care about innocent and guilty, right and wrong? They only care about what makes a good story. You only have to listen to what everyone around here says about me to know that. What, you struggle with your marriage ending and get angry once after too many drinks, and that’s it, you’re a bad guy forever? How is that fair?’
I flinch as Jim hisses that last question at me, but he isn’t finished with his rant yet.
‘My family have lived in Bramblethorpe for four generations. When I was younger, I helped half these people tend to their land, but a few bad decisions made at the worst time of my life and now I’m an outcast!
You’d think your wife leaving you would earn you a bit of sympathy, but not around here.
Not with these folks. Alexa was the only person who bothered to look beyond that, and now she’s gone. ’
‘Gone?’ I echo.
As Jim looks me dead in the eye, my blood turns to ice.
‘Gone,’ he repeats, and all hope that I will leave this field alive deserts me.