Page 51 of The Bodies

FORTY-SIX

In the aftermath there is only Joseph, and Erin, and the fact of what he has just done. For a while neither of them speak, nor even make eye contact. Blood is inching across the floor, forming a growing pool.

Joseph cannot deal with what he thinks he just witnessed: the light of consciousness disappearing from Enoch’s eyes. It’s simply too immense. ‘I’m …’ he begins, pausing when his head grows light. He puts the hammer on the worktop, tries not to look at it.

The pool of blood is still spreading. Limping to a drawer, he takes out a couple of tablecloths. Then, easing himself down, he slides them under Enoch’s head. When he catches sight of the wound his stomach flops.

‘It’s so red,’ Erin mutters, staring at the blood. ‘There’s so much. What have you done, Joe? Why did you do that?’

Gingerly, Joseph gets to his feet and fetches a first-aid kit from the utility. When he returns to the kitchen, Erin hasn’t moved. He takes out bandages and dressings. Lowering himself once again to Enoch’s side, he presses a dressing to the man’s head wound, binding it tightly.

Erin crouches down, putting her fingers to Enoch’s neck. ‘Joe,’ she says, as he’s tying off the bandage. ‘There’s no point. Where you hit him – you only had to look. He’s—’

‘I’m not trying to save him,’ he tells her. ‘I just want to stop the blood.’

Erin grunts, coughs. ‘I don’t understand. Is this real? You just … you literally just ended his life in front of me.’

Joseph’s head feels hollow; a legacy, perhaps, of the two stinging blows Enoch delivered before he died. Maybe he’s simply in shock. One arm of his shirt is soaked with blood. On the floor by his feet lies the knife that did the damage.

‘Take it off,’ Erin says, indicating his shirt. ‘Let me see how bad. And Joe, please – if there’s a reason, tell me why you did this.’

He doesn’t know if she’s being genuine, is trying to deceive him, or, like him, simply cannot process the enormity of what he’s just done.

He unbuttons his shirt regardless, his gaze moving around the kitchen.

Blood is splattered across the nearest wall units.

Shards of ceramic and glass litter the floor, along with splinters of picture frame and olive oil from the broken bottle.

When Erin peels off his shirt, he sees the deep incision in his arm, its red lips.

‘This needs stitches,’ she says. ‘At the hospital.’

‘No.’

‘Joe, you—’

‘I said no.’

Erin leads him to the table. ‘I think we have some wound closure strips. Maybe they’ll … I … maybe they’ll do for now.’

For the next minute, Joseph submits to Erin’s attention as she works on his arm. He watches with awe and grief: awe that she would try to help him, even now; grief at what he must tell her, and the ruination it will bring.

Eventually, he says, ‘Angus Roth is dead. Max killed him Friday night in Jack-O’-Lantern Woods. He told me he knocked him down on his way to Drew’s. Just some random guy who stepped into the road.’

Erin stops what she’s doing, glances up at him. Her eyes are blue planets, vast in range, each with a hollowed-out core. Her breath comes in shallow sips.

Joseph licks his lips. ‘At the time, I didn’t know about … about what was going on. And I had no reason to think he was lying. I didn’t want Max to lose his whole future over what seemed like a tragic accident. So I decided to cover it up.’

Erin’s eyelids stutter. Her breathing is more audible now. ‘Angus is dead?’

‘Yes.’

She looks around the room. Her gaze falls on Enoch, quickly moves away. Removing the last bandage from the kit, she winds it around Joseph’s arm. Her hands are shaking almost as badly as he is. ‘You’re saying Max knew about Angus? And that’s … that’s why …’

‘I don’t think it was a coincidence that they were in those woods, together, Friday night. I think he must have known, yes.’

Erin shudders. She digs into the first-aid kit and removes a safety pin. Perhaps the task of bandaging his arm is helping to order her thoughts. Once the task is complete, she laces her fingers over her stomach, like an expectant mother unconsciously protecting her child.

‘So where’s Angus now?’

‘I buried him Sunday night. Drove him out to Black Down, dug a grave, filled it in. I tried to do it Saturday, after the party, but I didn’t leave myself enough time.’

Gently, still cradling her stomach, Erin begins to rock. ‘And Drew?’

‘Max says she knew about Angus. That she was scared, wanted to tell someone. That it was only a matter of time before she went to the police.’

‘She’s gone, too?’

He can’t bring himself to answer that, because he still can’t reconcile himself to the reality.

Erin coughs again, makes a small sound of distress. ‘When did she …’

‘Some time on Sunday night. I went back to the bungalow after burying Angus. Max was already there. Drew was in the living room, laid out on a plastic sheet.’

‘My God, Joe.’ Those blue planets swirl. ‘Where is she now?’

‘Yesterday, she was still in the living room, which is why I tore over there when you told me about the viewing. I … I got her into the Honda just in time.’

Silence, for a while. Then Erin says, ‘So where’s the car?’

‘That’s just it. I don’t know.’

‘How can you not?’

He shrugs, opens his hands.

‘Did Max take it?’

‘He said no. But maybe.’

Erin casts another look at Enoch. ‘None of what you’ve just told me explains this – what you just did.’

‘Last night, when we were over there, I caught Max searching Drew’s room.

He was looking for that phone. There’s something’s on it that’ll implicate him.

Something that’ll send him to prison for life, if anyone sees.

’ He passes his fingers through his hair, feels blood where Enoch’s rings must have cut open his scalp.

‘If I can save Max, I will. I don’t care, any more, about the right or wrong of it.

Or what I have to do. I’m not sure I even care what he did.

I just want him to survive this, Erin. I just want to keep him close. ’

‘Three people are dead.’

Joseph examines his knuckles. The skin is scuffed, rucked back in white layers.

Erin says, ‘Three people are dead because of me.’

When he realizes where her mind has gone, he shakes his head. ‘Not because of you. It’s more complicated than that.’

He stands on shaking legs, asks himself if he believes his own words. He’s believed a lot of things these last four days. Most of them have turned out to be false.

He limps over to Enoch and slides the phone from the man’s back pocket. ‘I need to see what’s on here. But before I do, I need to tell you something else. And it’s going to be difficult.’ Joseph pauses. Then he says, ‘I think Max has Tilly.’