Page 56

Claire

Now

“We have a few questions for you.”

Villanueva stands in front of my hospital bed, looking even more polished than usual against the aseptic white walls of Tilloborra Hospital.

I take a deep breath. For the last three days, I’ve been waiting for this moment.

In the wake of everything that happened—the car exploding, three ambulances arriving at the scene, speeding nearly an hour away to the closest hospital, the frantic surgery I needed on my fractured femur and the endless tests they had to run for internal bleeding—I didn’t receive any word from Villanueva or the AFP.

I gave a statement on that first day to an officer with the Queensland Police Service, a middle-aged man with a buzz cut who listened attentively as I explained what happened, from that night ten years ago up through the car crash and its aftermath.

But there was nothing to clarify whether I was still the AFP’s main suspect in Phoebe’s murder.

“Are you planning on arresting me?” I pull the blanket of my hospital bed closer to my neck, suddenly very conscious of the thin gown I’m wearing.

Villanueva sighs deeply. Just as I expect her to answer, she returns my question with one of her own. “Do you mind if I take a seat?”

My head moves forward involuntarily, which Villanueva takes as a nod. It’s clear she’s not going to let me off easy.

“I thought I was clear when we last spoke,” she says once she’s seated, one ankle crossed over the other. “I told you not to leave the Royal Hotel.”

I feel my cheeks grow hot. “I had no choice,” I say, my eyes downcast. “I had to prove it wasn’t me who killed Phoebe.”

As I say it, I remember all the mistakes I made in trying to do so.

“I couldn’t sleep that night after we…well,” Declan explained to me a few days earlier, as he sat in the chair he’d pulled up close to my hospital bed, his hands in mine.

“I knew I should’ve woken you and returned to the Royal, but you were so peaceful, and I couldn’t bear the thought of disrupting your last night before…

” He trails off again. “I decided to look through the Inn since Randy appeared to have left for the night, to see if there was any other evidence besides the videos.

“I went back down to the closet where you found the computer. It was crammed with all sorts of stuff, and I came across what looked like a lost and found box. In it was Phoebe’s phone.

A guest must have found it and turned it in, and Randy didn’t know who it belonged to.

I thought it might have been yours from all those years ago—I remember yours used to have a jewel on it; I just couldn’t remember the color.

I was going to give it to you in the morning, when we woke, but… ”

I blushed then, thinking of how different things would have been if I’d simply confronted Declan about the phone that morning.

“I understand where you were the night of Ms. Barton’s murder,” Villanueva says now, bringing me back to the present. “Mr. Walsh filled us in. I’ve reviewed the witness statement you provided the Queensland Police, and we’ve corroborated it with other evidence.”

“What other evidence?” I manage to limit myself to only one question, despite the many swirling in my brain.

“Well, first, we enacted a search warrant of Randy Campbell’s house.”

“Randy.” The name tastes sour in my mouth, a combination of surprise and disgust. In everything that’s happened, I nearly forgot about him.

“Yes, we wanted to investigate your claims about the hidden cameras. And we found sufficient proof to confirm he has been recording his guests without their permission.”

“But…but we saw him at the Inn burning the computer,” I stumble, not understanding.

“He had backed up some of the videos to the cloud. We found them on his home computer when we executed the search warrant,” Villanueva explains. “He’s in custody now, both for the illicit videos and for the assault on your friend, Mr. Quek, which he confessed to.”

I feel my shoulders relax for the first time in days. God only knows how many people—how many women—Randy’s violated over the years. And Josh was right—Randy was the one who stabbed Kyan.

“We watched them as well.” I don’t understand Villanueva’s comment at first. “Your friend, Ms. Viviers, had mentioned that an…intimate video had been posted of her and Mr. Quek during your first time in Jagged Rock. We were able to match that to one of the videos on Mr. Campbell’s computer.”

Phoebe never posted that video of Adrien and Kyan. She may have made mistakes, done things she regretted, but she wasn’t a monster.

I think back to how angry Randy had been at that last dinner when Adrien spilled her wine on him. How that was the same night he’d discovered that Hamilton was pulling the Adventure Abroad program. Releasing the sex tape must have been his way of getting revenge.

“And, of course, we’ve watched the video on Ms. Barton’s phone accusing Mr. McBride of attacking her.

On top of that, we have proof that he returned to the country, of course.

My partner, Leading Senior Constable Arnold Sawkins, had reached out to him at the time we identified Phoebe’s remains—as he did with all of you—and requested that he come to Australia to answer our questions.

” The ease with which Villanueva transitions to referring to Phoebe by her first name isn’t lost on me, a familiarity she never utilizes with the rest of us.

“But Mr. McBride refused, said he had work obligations that prevented him from traveling. So, it was a bit odd to discover that he did end up making the trip, while never advising us that he was in the country.”

I open my mouth, but Villanueva continues, as if reading my mind.

“We also have evidence to connect him to the murder of Harriet Masterson. When we questioned her neighbors, one mentioned having seen an individual matching Mr. McBride’s description entering her apartment the afternoon before you reported her overdose.

“It is unfortunate that Mr. McBride is unable to answer our questions.” Villanueva at least has the courtesy to divert her eyes downward in a fleeting moment of silence for Josh.

The explosion plays in my head then, just like it has so many times over the last few days.

Luke running behind Josh, only to be thrown backwards, his body tossed aside.

And Josh nowhere to be seen, the lights searing my eyes as I tried to look.

The despair that flooded me, cruel and surprising, as I realized what had happened.

The car had a full gas tank—we had just filled up minutes before—and the accident must have damaged the car’s wiring.

In retrospect, I remembered a hissing sound, the sight of sparks, as I dragged myself from the battered SUV, but in my panicked haze, I hadn’t even registered them.

We found out later that after weeks of drought and arid weather, the sparks started yet another fire that raced through a large portion of rural Queensland before firefighters were able to extinguish it.

But in the seconds after the explosion, Ellery didn’t bother waiting for the scene to clear. She sped forward, directly towards Luke, with Declan close behind her.

“We’ve not yet been able to corroborate your claim that Mr. McBride attacked Phoebe with his room key from the Raven Inn,” Villanueva’s voice breaks into my memory of that horrible scene.

“But we have reason to believe he may have held on to it after all this time, potentially even transported it back to the United States with him. We’ve coordinated with the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and they will be executing a search warrant for Mr. McBride’s townhome in Chicago.

“So, no,” Villanueva concludes. “You are no longer considered a suspect in Phoebe’s murder.”

Her words fly through me with giddy elation, mixing noxiously with grief and shame. But Villanueva’s eyes grow hard once more.

“I do have one more question for you though.”

I feel my breath catch.

“The accident. The crash with the car Mr. McBride had stolen.” I found out shortly after the explosion that Josh hadn’t borrowed the car as he’d claimed but had broken into one of the houses in downtown Jagged Rock and stolen the keys.

“It doesn’t seem likely that Mr. McBride just ran off the road,” Villanueva continues. “What happened?”

The real question hangs silently between us. What did you do?

I can’t tell her the truth. That I yanked the wheel, took Josh by surprise, just like Phoebe did to her brother all those years ago. I’m sure they would consider that a crime.

Then I think back to what Josh said about the police’s conclusion regarding Phoebe’s crash and her brother’s death. How Phoebe had told them her brother had swerved to avoid a deer.

“A kangaroo,” I say before I can think better of it. “It hopped in front of the car. Josh swerved to avoid it.”

“Ah.” Villanueva raises an eyebrow, one side of her lip lifted. “Exactly what I thought.”

Somehow, somewhere, I feel Phoebe smile.

“Well, that’s all I have for you for now. When you’re released from hospital, I suggest you return to Sydney for a few days. The wildfires have largely been contained, so you shouldn’t have any more issues with your flights. But stick around for a bit until we clear you to leave the country.”

I nod, but she’s already standing, walking away from the bed. Just as she reaches the door, she turns back, that mischievous smile still on her face.

“Oh and, Claire, I think it’s probably best if you don’t return to Jagged Rock after this.”

I can’t help but smile back. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

I’ll never come back here again.