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She still hasn’t told Scott. Unforgiveable, really.
‘It’s none of my business, I know,’ Beckett says. ‘And I’m asking in a purely personal capacity. But I’ve noticed …’ He pauses, tries again. ‘Leading an investigation like this – with all the associated scrutiny – it puts a huge amount of pressure on a person.’
Mairéad glances up at him.
‘How are you coping?’ he asks.
Kyle
I
When Rita returns with Thai food, she confiscates Ben’s phone. ‘No contact with the outside world,’ she tells the policeman when she thinks I’m out of earshot. ‘Do youwanthim seeing the news?’
It’s probably for the best. After an encouraging start, I lost my first game of chess. I lost the next six games, too.
I don’t manage to eat much. Sensing Rita’s disappointment, I force down a few prawn crackers, but they’re greasier than the ones we had before. They leave me feeling sick.
I switch between periods of calm and high anxiety. One moment my heart’s beating sluggishly, the next it’s galloping at top speed. The medicine Beckett’s giving me is meant to stop that, but since the first dose I’ve only pretended to take it. I don’t want my senses numbed. At some point soon, I’m going to need them.
I recall the reporters’ shouted questions as I was bundled into the police van:Is Elissa Mirzoyan dead? Did you kill her?
Perhaps I should have answered. Because I know, now. I know the truth of what happened. There are gaps, still. But I don’t have to be a genius to fill them in.
Close to sunset, Ben’s shift ends and Ryan’s begins. Rita goes home too, taking a carton of pad thai for her supper. I wait for Ryan to come in after his cigarette. Then I go out to the garden. It’s cold outside, but I hardly feel the chill. Above me, the sky is restless yet beautiful – like I imagine it must have looked in the early days of Creation. Clouds twist and churn, pulled by conflicting currents. To the west, the sun bleeds molten copper over the horizon. Rarely have I seen such drama in the heavens. Never before has an omen seemed so clear.
I turn my head, looking back at the house where I’ve spent these last four days. The people I’ve met in there are good and honest, achingly sincere. But they’re not my people. After what I’ve done – and what I’ve let happen – we’ll never have anything in common.
The lawn climbs towards a part of the garden left to grow wild. I pass a rope swing, a tool shed. The sun finally bleeds out. In the lavender light, my skin feels tight against my flesh, like a shoe that’s two sizes too small.
As I walk around the tool shed, shielding myself from the house, I see Papa standing beneath an ash tree. For the length of a heartbeat I wonder if my overactive imagination has woven him from the threads of twilight. But he’s as real as the tumultuous sky.
Papa smiles broadly when he sees me. ‘You sly little fuck,’ he laughs, walking up. The last thing I see is his swinging fist.
II
I’m in a van.
I didn’t see it from the outside, but I know which one. I sometimes used its bumper for target practice, until Papawarned me off. He gave me the .22 a few years back – I think the idea amused him. Arming me was a risk, but Papa thrives on danger. Of course, he’s not my real papa. But that doesn’t matter, not any more.
Beneath me, the van bumps and shakes. When it sways on its suspension, I slide across the floor. Every now and then I hear the roar-hiss of a passing vehicle, but it doesn’t happen often. Country roads, I think, and wonder how long I’ve been unconscious.
No light intrudes. Outside, it might still be dusk, or it might be full dark. When I start to get cold, I search the van’s interior. In one corner I discover a tarpaulin, all bunched up. It’s crackly and rough, caked in dust and grit, but it’s better than nothing. I wrap myself up in its folds. Closing my eyes, I find sleep.
III
Something different in the engine sound wakens me. When I sit up I realize we’re climbing a slope.
My thoughts return to the safe house. Ryan won’t miss me straight away, but it won’t be long before the alarm is raised. I know the police will do everything possible to find me. Papa knows it too, which is why the chance to snatch me a second time will have been irresistible.
I hope Ben doesn’t get into trouble. He shouldn’t have lent me his phone to play chess, but he couldn’t have known I’d phone Papa. They thought I didn’t know the safe house’s location, but I overheard Rita phoning for Thai food. The address wasn’t hard to memorize.
Reaching the top of a slope, the van begins to descend. A minute later we’re travelling up another rise, this one evensteeper. Earlier, the constant motion lulled me to sleep. Now, it’s making me feel sick.
We slow to what feels like walking pace. I try to imagine what’s outside. Another estate, like Meunierfields? A wood full of dripping trees, like the one I left behind? Perhaps, instead, we’re visiting a burial ground.
The engine dies. A door slams. Footsteps come around to the rear. The door swings open, revealing a clear night sky.
IV