“Please, don’t,” she begs.
“Have you told the police?” he asks, as he paces up and down, not knowing what to do with himself.
Rachel shakes her head. “Not yet, because everything was so hazy when I was talking to them. But it’s all gradually coming back, and now that Paige is…” She can’t bring herself to finish the sentence.
“They need to be told,” says Noah. “It might make a difference to their investigation.”
“Investigation?” repeats Rachel naively.
“Into Paige’s…” He doesn’t seem to be able to say the word either. “A car doesn’t randomly start up on its own, point in the direction of the terrace and start rolling toward it at speed.”
“But who would do such a thing?”
Noah rubs his hand manically through his hair. “I don’t know,” he says. “I just don’t know.”
“So you think we should tell them that Jack and Paige were…” asks Rachel, unsure what to do for the best.
Noah falls onto the chair and puts his head in his hands. “Do you know for sure that they were?”
“Ali told me,” says Rachel.
“But I thought we were disregarding that as Ali being Ali?”
Rachel shakes her head as the memories become clearer with every passing minute. “She told me everything, just before the accident. I heard it in all its technicolor glory.”
“And you believe her?” asks Noah.
“Does it really matter anymore?” cries Rachel.
“Excuse me,” says Da Silva, peering around the curtain. “May I?”
Rachel nods as Noah buries his head in his hands.
“Is there any news on my husband?” asks Rachel, her voice unsteady.
“He has a dislocated shoulder, a torn tendon in his arm and some facial injuries,” says Da Silva. “They have him in surgery now, but he will be okay, I think.”
“So, you’ve not spoken to him yet?” asks Noah, without even looking up.
“No, we will be speaking to him about the evening’s events as soon as we’re able to.” Da Silva looks between them. “I know this must be a very difficult time, but I just need to ask you both again, so I am completely clear, that neither of you saw Paige Collins before the accident.”
“I-I’ve just told your colleague,” Rachel cries. “The last time I saw her was when I left the restaurant to talk to Ali. Paige was outside talking to Jack, my husband.”
“Why were they outside?” asks the policeman.
Noah’s mouth pulls tight and his eyes darken, as though he’s about to say or do something he might regret. Rachel puts a hand on his in an attempt to silently caution him, and his jaw slackens, as whatever incriminating statement he was about to make dissipates.
“That was probably about fifteen minutes or so before it happened,” Rachel goes on.
“And you?” Da Silva says, turning to Noah. “When did you last see your wife and where was she?”
Any fire that remains in Noah’s eyes fades as he processes the loaded question. He rubs his chin, bristling his five o’clock shadow that seems to have grayed since yesterday.
“She was out on the terrace, talking to Jack,” he says. “By the time I went outside to watch the fireworks, I couldn’t see either of them.”
“And you didn’t see them again,” asks Da Silva, “before the car came?”
Noah shakes his head.
“I don’t understand why it’s so important,” says Rachel. “What does it matter where Paige was? Isn’t it enough to know that when the car hit her, she was thrown into the water?” A sob catches in her throat.
Da Silva grimaces. “I’m afraid it’s not that simple.”
Rachel and Noah both look at him, waiting for him to elaborate.
“Because Mrs. Collins’s body was found in the car.”
27
Noah locks eyes with Rachel, his fear, anger, sadness and confusion mirroring her own.
“B-but…” she stutters, unable to make any sense of what’s going on.
“How…?” starts Noah.
“That’s impossible,” manages Rachel. “That can’t be right.”
Da Silva looks at her resignedly.
“Sh-she couldn’t have been in the car,” Rachel mumbles, hoping that if she says it enough it’ll be true.
“I’m afraid she was, and I need to understand what happened and why she was there.”
“Well, she…” blusters Rachel, desperately looking for answers herself. “She must have been making an ill-fated attempt at getting home. She wouldn’t have been used to being on the wrong side of the road. She might have gotten confused with the gearshift being on the right instead of the left. There are myriad reasons why she may have been disoriented. It was dark, she’d been drinking, the fireworks went off. The list goes on…” She’s scrabbling around for any other reasonable justification as to why Paige would have been in that car, and, if she was, how this terrible accident could have occurred. Because whichever way Rachel looks at this, it has to have been an accident, as the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.
“Did anything unusual happen at the wedding or the party afterward?” asks Da Silva. “Were there any arguments or problems?”
Rachel’s head throbs, the beat of a banging drum reverberating as her pulse quickens.
“Senhor Da Silva, posso falar com você, por favor?”
Rachel looks up to see Casimiro’s grave face peering around the curtain.
“Excuse me for just one moment,” says the policeman.
As soon as he’s out of earshot, Rachel turns to Noah, with a look of utter horror on her face.
“Oh my God, it’s my fault,” she croaks.
“What?” exclaims Noah. “How can it be?”
Rachel shudders involuntarily as she looks at Noah. “What if she overheard me and Ali talking about what happened between us?”
“Ali knew?” asks Noah. “So, she did hear everything you and I said?”
Rachel nods, struggling for breath as she imagines Paige hidden from view around the back of the restaurant, but still within easy listening distance. What might have gone through her head if she heard Ali’s observation that Noah and Rachel were still in love with each other? That Josh might be Noah’s child?
“She heard it all,” says Rachel, not knowing whether she’s referring to Ali or Paige.
“Well, did you put Ali right, like you did me?” he asks. “Did you tell her there was absolutely no chance Josh could possibly be mine?”
A tear falls onto Rachel’s cheek. “I told her the truth,” she says.
Noah raises his eyebrows. “Which is?”
“Which is that I honestly don’t know.”
His eyes, which already hold so much pain and angst, appear to take on a truckload more.
“So, you always knew there was a possibility,” he says quietly.
“No!” she exclaims, desperate for him to understand. “I’ve always assumed Jack was his father because…”
Noah looks at her, waiting.
“Because I wanted him to be,” she says, when she can’t think of a better answer.
“Because it was easier,” says Noah.
Rachel wipes a tear away. “Yes,” she says honestly. “I guess it was.”
“And now?” asks Noah.
“Now, everything’s being called into question and I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“We don’t know that Paige heard anything,” says Noah.
“Why else would she have done what she’s done?” cries Rachel, unable to keep her voice down.
“You’re jumping to conclusions,” he says.
She shakes her head vehemently. “I made her do this,” she says. “She was coming for me.”
Her chest convulses as she sobs and Noah takes her hand in his.
“Are you saying she did this on purpose?” asks Noah hoarsely. “That she targeted us?”
Rachel tries to stop her mind from fast-forwarding, but it’s like holding back a freight train. There are so many faces, scenarios and possibilities crowding her brain that she has to wait for the fog to clear to think straight.
“Me, you, us—I don’t know who she would have felt more betrayed by.”
“Fucking hell,” says Noah as his head falls into his hands.
“What am I going to do?” cries Rachel. “Should I tell them?”
Noah’s praying hands touch his lips as he processes the question.
“We’ve done nothing wrong,” he says eventually.