‘Look, I know you mean well,’ I massage my temples, ‘but can we not talk about this? I spent all morning with a police sergeant trying to remember and honestly, I’ve had enough. It’s not coming. I worry if I try and force it I’ll just end up making something up and convincing myself it’s the truth.’
‘OK.’ She’s quiet for a moment and then says, ‘Look, I told them about you and James. I said you used to go out. I thought you should know. I didn’t know what you would have said but …’
‘It’s fine. I don’t want anyone to lie. I told Lamarr we were together. She’s the police officer assigned—’
‘I know,’ Nina breaks in. ‘She’s been speaking to us too. Does she know how you broke up?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You know, the big secret. The STD. Or whatever you want to call it.’
‘For the last time, no one gave me an STD.’
‘So you keep saying. Did you tell her?’
‘No, I didn’t say anything. Did you?’
‘No. I had nothing to tell. I just said you were together. And then you broke up.’
‘Well quite. There’s nothing to tell.’ I press my lips together.
‘Really? Hmm, let’s see.’ She begins to tick the points off on her fingers. ‘Breaking up, leaving school, dropping contact with half your friends, not speaking to him for ten years. Nothing to tell?’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ I repeat doggedly, staring at my fingers laced together over my knee. The cuts are starting to darken and scab over. Soon they’ll be healed.
‘Because the fact is,’ Nina continues, ‘James is dead and they’re looking for a motive.’
At that I look up. I look her right in the eye. She meets my gaze without flinching.
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying, I’m worried about you.’
‘You’re implying I killed James!’
‘Fuck off!’ At that she stands and begins to pace around the room. ‘I am not. I’m saying— I’m trying—’
‘You know n-nothing about it,’ I say. Fuck. Stop stammering! But it is true, Nina does know nothing about it. No one knows about that part of my life – not even my mum. The only person who knows anything is Clare, and even she doesn’t know the full story. And Clare …
Clare is in hospital.
Clare is … what? Too ill to be interviewed? In a coma, even? But she will wake up.
‘Have you seen Clare?’ I say, my voice very low. Nina shakes her head.
‘No. I think she’s pretty bad. Whatever happened in that crash …’ She shakes her head again, this time in frustration rather than denial. ‘You know the worst thing; James would probably have lived. He was very badly hurt, but I reckon there was at least a fifty per cent chance he’d have survived.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It was the crash that killed him. Or else the delay caused by the crash – which comes to the same thing.’
Suddenly Lamarr’s insistence on those missing minutes crystalises.
What happened in the house was only the first half of the story.
The real killing came later, on the road.
I have to remember what happened.
I should never have come. I knew that. I knew it from the moment the email pinged into my inbox.
You should never go back.
And yet. I think of James, lying on the floor, his dark eyes looking up into mine as his blood pooled around us both. I think of his hand, slippery with blood, gripping mine as if he were drowning and only I could save him. I think of his voice saying, Leo …
If I had known then what I know now, would I have deleted the email?
Nina’s hand reaches out for mine, and I feel her warm, dry grip, and her strong fingers tracing the lattice of scratches and cuts. ‘It’ll be OK,’ she says. But her voice is husky and we both know she is lying – lying because whatever happens with me and Lamarr and the rest of the investigation, this has gone far beyond the point where things could ever be OK again. Whether Clare recovers or not, whether they suspect me or not, James is dead.
‘H-how’s Flo?’ I say at last.
Nina chews her lip as if considering what to say, and then lets out a gust of breath. ‘Not … great. To tell the truth, I think she’s having a breakdown.’
‘Does she know about Clare?’
‘Yes. She wanted to see her, but we were told no visitors.’
‘Has anyone seen her? Clare, I mean.’
‘Her parents, I think.’
‘And …’ I swallow. I won’t stammer. I won’t. ‘And James’s parents? Have they been?’
‘I think so, yes. I believe they came yesterday and—’ She looks down at my hands, runs her finger gently across the longest scratch, ‘—and saw his body. They’ve gone home, as far as I know. We didn’t see them.’