He made a noise in the back of his throat: no. ‘By the time the folks next door saw her, the sun was up. The garden’s shaded, luckily.’
‘If there had been, you might have been able to tell exactly what happened.’
‘Maybe.’ He turned so that he faced her again and shifted closer, putting his hand on her hip.
‘No one could have been in the house – hiding – and then left after you’d gone?’
He broke away and looked at her. ‘No. The house was searched from top to bottom, Miss Marple. No one was here and no one had gone before we got here.’
‘I’m sorry, I’ll shut up.’
‘Do you know something, Rowan?’ He was watching her intently now. ‘Do you think someone wanted to hurt her?’
‘No. Well, I mean, I don’t know – as I said, we hadn’t been in touch – but I really doubt it. She wasn’t like that.’
‘Then accept it for what it was: an accident. Awful, a bloody waste of life and talent, but an accident.’
She was falling asleep when the mattress dented under her. Opening her eyes, she saw Theo sitting on the edge of the bed. A moment later, he stood and picked his boxer shorts off the floor. She watched as he put on his shirt and trousers.
‘You’re not staying?’
He spun around, caught in the act of zipping his fly.
‘I can’t. I have to be in early tomorrow. Meeting.’
‘Stay in town, then. Quicker from here.’
‘I need to change, have a shower. I . . .’ Seeing her face, he sat down again and reached across the bed to touch her cheek. ‘Ro, I wish I could but Emily would go crazy. Being very late’s one thing – I can find an excuse, something came up at work – but staying out all night . . .’
‘Who’s Emily?’
He shook his head. ‘Come on, let’s not play that game.’
‘What . . . ? Christ.’ Rowan pulled the patchwork quilt off the bed and wrapped it around herself. She stood up quickly, feeling suddenly at a disadvantage. ‘I don’t believe this.’
‘Oh, you knew – I don’t believe you didn’t know. I’ve been married three years, for God’s sake – I’ve got a son. You’re telling me no one from college mentioned it to you?’
‘Believe what you want. Do you think I would have done this,’ she waved her hand at the bed, ‘if I’d known?’
He bent and picked up his coat. ‘Well, you’ll have to forgive me,’ he said, throwing it on, ‘if I’d forgotten how morally upstanding you are.’
The slam of the front door reverberated through the house. Thank God the Dawsons were away. Furious and disgusted with herself, she leaned against the wall and listened as he stamped away across the gravel. She was still wrapped in the quilt: she hadn’t even had time to get her jeans on. Bloody, bloody Theo. She took her coat down from the peg and put it on, the silk lining cold against her bare skin.
Tomorrow’s hangover was already starting and her mouth was dry. She threw the quilt over the banisters and went down to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
The slate floor was icy underfoot. As she stood at the sink, the overhead lights made a mirror of the window, reflecting her image. The garden was invisible, the spot where Marianne died lost in the dark. Rowan thought about how her body must have looked as the sun came up, the snow around her head dyed scarlet. They told me her fingers were frozen. What had she been wearing? Jeans? A coat? Yes, surely, if she was wearing wellies. Wellies – in her mind’s eye, the scene of Marianne’s death was elevated, heroic even, but—
Something moved on the other side of the glass. Startled, she dropped the glass into the sink. She’d only seen it from the corner of her eye but it wasn’t leaves on the wind or a bird or animal. It was larger than that, like someone moving, disturbing the light.
She turned off the tap and moved away. As calmly as possible, she crossed the kitchen and went upstairs, ducking past the window at the turn. Hidden from view from the garden, she ran all the way up to the studio and positioned herself by the window.
The lights were off and when her eyes adjusted, the garden was quite visible in the moonlight. There was no one by the shed or over by the wall. With the shadows, it was hard to be sure but there didn’t seem to be anyone down at the end by the birch trees, either. Nothing moved.
Gently she lifted the latch and opened the window. She waited a moment then leaned out until she had a clear view of the lit area outside the kitchen window, the narrow patio and the steps to the lawn. No one. The only sound was the breeze.
She walked into Adam’s space and looked out of the dormer. No one on the drive, and the pavement was deserted. Both the cars parked at the kerb were empty.