Page 216 of A Good Girl's Guide to Murder

‘I see,’ he said with a kind smile. ‘Sometimes a change of scenery is good for concentration.’

‘But, Dad . . .’ She hated the lie that was about to come out of her mouth. ‘Something happened. I don’t know how. I went to the toilet for just a minute and when I came back my laptop was gone. No one there saw anything. I think it was stolen.’ She looked down at her scuffed boots. ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have left it.’

Victor shushed her and folded her into a hug. One she really, really needed. ‘Don’t be silly,’ he said, ‘things are not important. They are replaceable. I only care if you’re OK.’

‘I’m OK,’ she said. ‘Any sign this morning?’

‘None yet, but Josh and Mum are going back out this afternoon and I’m going to ring round the local shelters. We will get him back, pickle.’

She nodded and stepped back from him. They were going to get Barney back; she’d done everything she had been told to do. That was the deal. She wished she could say something to her family, to take some of the worry out of their faces. But it wasn’t possible. It was another of those Andie Bell secrets Pip had found herself trapped inside.

As for giving up on Andie now, could she really do that? Could she walk away, knowing that Sal Singh wasn’t guilty? Knowing a killer walked the same Kilton streets as her? She had to, didn’t she? For the dog she’d loved for ten years, the dog who loved her back even harder. For her family’s safety. For Ravi too. How would she convince him to give up on this? He had to, or his could be the next body in the woods. This couldn’t go on; it wasn’t safe any more. There was no choice. The decision felt like a shard from the shattered laptop screen had stuck through her chest. It stabbed and cracked every time she breathed.

Pip was upstairs at her desk, looking through past papers for the ELAT exam. The day had grown dark and Pip had just flicked on her mushroom-shaped desk lamp. She was working to theGladiatorsoundtrack playing through her phone speakers, flicking her pen in time with the strings. She paused the music when someone knocked on the door.

‘Yep,’ she said, spinning in her desk chair.

Victor came in and closed the door behind him. ‘You working hard, pickle?’

She nodded.

He walked over and propped his back against her desk, his legs crossed out in front of him.

‘Listen, Pip,’ he said gently. ‘Someone just found Barney.’

Pip’s breath stuck halfway down her throat. ‘Wh-why don’t you look happy?’

‘He must have fallen in somehow. They found him in the river.’ Her dad reached down and took her hand. ‘I’m sorry, darling. He drowned.’

Pip wheeled away from her dad, shaking her head.

‘No,’ she said. ‘He can’t have done. That’s not what . . . No, he can’t be . . .’

‘I’m sorry, pickle,’ he said, his bottom lip trembling. ‘Barney died. We’re going to bury him tomorrow, in the garden.’

‘No, he can’t be!’ Pip jumped to her feet now, pushing Victor away as he stepped forward to hug her. ‘No, he isn’t dead. That’s not fair,’ she cried, the tears hot and fast down to the dimple in her chin. ‘He can’t be dead. It’s not fair. It’s not . . . it’s not . . .’

She dropped to her knees and sat back on the floor, hugging her legs into her chest. A chasm of unspeakable pain opened inside, glowing black.

‘This is all my fault.’ Her mouth pressed into her knee, stifling her words. ‘I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.’

Her dad sat down beside her and tucked her into his arms. ‘Pip, I don’t want you to blame yourself, not even for a second. It’s not your fault he wandered away from you.’

‘It’s not fair, Dad,’ she cried into his chest. ‘Why is this happening? I just want him back. I just want Barney back.’

‘Me too,’ he whispered.

They sat that way for a long time on her bedroom floor, crying together. Pip didn’t even hear when her mum and Josh came into the room. She didn’t know they were there until they slotted themselves in, Josh sitting on Pip’s lap, his head on her shoulder.

‘It’s not fair.’

Thirty-Six

They buried him in the afternoon. Pip and Josh planned to plant sunflowers over his grave in the spring, because they were golden and happy, just like him.

Cara and Lauren came over for a while, Cara laden with cookies she’d baked for them all. Pip couldn’t really talk; every word almost stumbled into a cry or a scream of rage. Every word stirred that impossible feeling in her gut, that she was too sad to be angry but too angry to be sad. They didn’t stay for long.

It was evening now and there was a high ringing sound in her ears. The day had hardened her grief and Pip felt numb and dried out. He wasn’t coming back and she couldn’t tell anyone why. That secret, and the guilt in its wake, was the heaviest thing of all.