Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE
‘Evie, where are you?’ I raise my voice over her raucous sobs.
‘At Immy’s,’ she blurts, finally. ‘She’s dead, Kara. She’s dead.’
‘Evie, listen to me,’ I say firmly, desperate to try to calm her. ‘We’re here for you, okay?’ I glance at Jack, who can clearly sense my mounting fear. ‘Just try to tell me what happened. Can you do that?’
She doesn’t answer.
‘What happened to Immy, Evie?’ I urge her gently.
‘She fell,’ she cries, sounding close to hysteria. ‘She was in the multistorey car park in Worcester and she fell, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do, Kara.’
Oh God, no. I feel the blood drain from my body. ‘Are the police there?’ I ask, my gaze fixed on Jack.
‘Jesus Christ.’ His face ashen, he moves towards me, gesturing for me to pass him the phone.
‘Is that Dad?’ Evie asks, her voice small and fearful.
‘Yes. Do you want to talk to him?’
‘No,’ she says, clearly panicked. ‘I can’t. I don’t know what to say. I can’t talk to him, Kara. Please don’t make me.’
‘It’s all right, you don’t have to. Just focus on me, okay?’ I shake my head meaningfully at Jack. He rakes his fingers through his hair, clearly worried, but backs off a little.
‘Uh-huh,’ Evie murmurs. She sounds so young and vulnerable, I feel like crying with her.
‘Are the police questioning you?’ I ask her.
‘They asked me if I know what happened,’ she answers tremulously.
‘But I don’t. I was supposed to be meeting her, but she didn’t show.
I told them I didn’t believe it. I said she wouldn’t have gone up there on her own.
She doesn’t like heights. She wouldn’t have jumped.
She didn’t. I know she didn’t.’ She’s talking rapidly, her words almost tumbling over each other in her haste.
‘Don’t say anything else, Evie,’ I instruct her, concerned they might be questioning her without an appropriate adult present. ‘Are Imogen’s parents there?’
‘Her mum.’ She gasps out another ragged sob.
‘Okay,’ I say, my heart wrenching at the thought of what the woman will be going through. ‘Listen to me, Evie. I need you to hand the phone to one of the police officers. Can you do that?’
Evie doesn’t answer me. I hear a muffled exchange of words in the background, and a second later, a woman comes on the phone. ‘This is DI Blake,’ she says. ‘Who am I talking to?’
‘Kara Keenan, Evie’s father’s partner,’ I reply. ‘Hold on, I’ll put him on.’
Jack grabs the phone as I offer it to him. ‘Jack Conley,’ he says tersely. ‘What the bloody hell is going on? Why are you questioning my daughter without—’
He stops as the woman speaks over him. I watch him breathe in sharply, wonder if he’s ever going to breathe out.
‘Right,’ he says after a pause. ‘So I can come and collect her?’ He nods as she answers.
‘We’ll be straight there,’ he says, his voice thick with emotion. ‘Could you put Evie back on, please?’
Pulling the phone away from his ear, he addresses me. ‘She was there when they arrived to inform her parents,’ he says quietly. ‘They’re awaiting CCTV footage, but they think it was suicide. There was a note.’ He stops, going back to the phone as Evie’s voice drifts from it.
‘Evie? Hey, hey, don’t cry, sweetheart,’ he says, his voice cracking. ‘It’s okay. I know you didn’t do anything. Just try to stay calm. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
‘I’m coming with you,’ I tell him as he hands my phone back to me.
Jack nods. ‘I’ll make sure the back’s locked up,’ he says, turning to the kitchen.
There’s no way I’m about to let him drive in the state he’ll be in.
I’m grabbing my car keys from the hall table when there’s a tap on the front door.
I feel every fibre in my body tense. It can only be Lina, the very last person he will want in the house right now.
Ironically, also the first person Evie will probably want to see.
Trying to still the combination of confusion and nerves churning inside me, I brace myself and open the door. ‘I’ve had a troubling text from Evie about Immy,’ Lina says, stepping in without invitation. ‘She couldn’t get hold of you. Or her father.’
‘He was out,’ I tell her, my tone impatient.
‘Oh yes?’ Lina arches her eyebrows insinuatingly. ‘Out where precisely, my dear? No doubt he told you he was at work.’
‘Of course he was,’ I snap, astounded by the implicit accusation. Was he? The thought creeps into my head uninvited.