Let the Dead Speak (Maeve Kerrigan #7)

‘What’s wrong?’ I said.

‘Bethany called me.’ His chest heaved, the notch between his collarbones deeper with every breath. ‘What did you say to her last night?’

‘Why? What did she say?’

‘Did you tell her it was her fault Chloe died?’

Derwent twisted to look at me, his eyebrows climbing.

‘I didn’t,’ I said, thinking of Georgia, ‘but she might have drawn that conclusion.’

Turner coughed. ‘You’ve really upset her.’

‘I’ll go and talk to her.’ I started towards the house.

‘She’s not there.’ Turner was patting his pockets, not finding what he was looking for. No inhaler. Great.

Derwent stood up and took him by the arm. ‘Let’s get you home, fella.’

‘Not yet.’ He held up his phone. ‘I just spoke to her. She said she couldn’t live with herself. She said she’d called me to say goodbye.’

‘Goodbye?’ I repeated, stupidly. ‘Where was she?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Did she call you?’ I remembered that the Norrises hadn’t let her have a mobile phone of her own. ‘From a payphone?’

He shook his head, coughing again. ‘She’s got Chloe’s phone.’

‘Can you unlock your phone?’ He did as I asked and handed it to me, his hands shaking. ‘Get him some help, for God’s sake,’ I said to Derwent. ‘He needs his inhaler and probably an ambulance.’

‘I’ll be OK,’ Turner croaked, but his lips were turning blue.

Derwent half-dragged, half-carried him down the street to his house. I knew he wouldn’t leave him until he was safe. I flicked to the recent calls on Turner’s phone and found Chloe’s number. I sent the contact information to my own phone but used Turner’s mobile to return the call, hoping she’d pick up.

Praying.

And she answered. Instead of hello, I heard the wind whistling across the phone, and a sound that might have been a sob.

‘Bethany?’

A long, nerve-shredding pause. Then: ‘What – who is this?’

‘DS Maeve Kerrigan. Bethany, where are you?’

‘Where’s William? Why are you ringing on his phone?’

‘He gave it to me.’

‘Gave it to you?’ A sniff. ‘Why?’

‘To talk to you.’

‘I want to talk to him.’

‘He can’t talk to anyone at the moment. He’s gone home to get his inhaler. His breathing wasn’t good.’

Silence. I listened intently, hearing the swish of cars. So she was near a road. That narrowed it down. Fine detective work, DS Kerrigan.

‘I don’t believe you.’ Her voice was absolutely toneless.

‘It’s true. I’ve never lied to you, Bethany.’

Another silence as she considered it. ‘Is he going to be OK?’

‘One of my colleagues is with him. He’s calling an ambulance for William. What about you, Bethany? Are you OK?’

A sob. ‘N-no.’

‘Where are you? You’re not at home, are you?’

‘No.’

‘Where, then?’ In the background I heard something that chilled me: a two-note, mournful train whistle. ‘Bethany?’

It came again and this time I heard it too, carried on the breeze rather than by mobile phone signal. She had to be somewhere close to me, near the railway line.

And she’d called Turner to say goodbye.

Shit.

‘Bethany, have you spoken to your mum?’

She was crying properly now. The sound from the phone was muffled.

‘Where are you, Bethany? Please tell me. I’ll come and find you.’

‘No!’

‘I’ll tell you about Chloe. I’ll tell you what happened to her.’

‘You don’t know.’ It was a long wail.

‘I know more than I did yesterday. I know how she died.’ I closed my eyes for a second. ‘I know it wasn’t your fault. You were trying to help her, weren’t you?’

‘That’s all I wanted.’

‘You didn’t know what was going to happen. You couldn’t have known. You mustn’t blame yourself. It’s no reason to harm yourself.’

She laughed, a horrible, ragged sound that set my teeth on edge. ‘That’s not why – you have no idea.’

‘Tell me, then.’

An ambulance swung into the street, the siren going, the lights blinking blue. I ran down the road to flag them down, pointing them towards Turner’s house.

‘What’s that?’

‘An ambulance.’

‘For William?’

‘Yes.’ The two green-clad paramedics climbed out, shouldering their equipment, and hurried up the path to his front door. ‘He was really worried about you, Bethany. I want to be able to reassure him. Can you tell me where you are?’

‘No.’ Her voice sounded distant. I was losing her, I could feel it. My shirt was sticking to me between my shoulder blades and under my arms.

‘Keep talking to me, please, Bethany. There’s nothing so bad that it’s worth killing yourself for.’

‘You have no idea. I shouldn’t even be here.’ She laughed again. ‘You don’t know what I am.’

‘I know you’re a clever girl. Too clever to think killing yourself will fix anything.’

Derwent appeared in the doorway of Turner’s house, saw me and hurried over. He held up his car key and I nodded, following him to his car.

‘It’s too late to fix anything. But at least I won’t feel anything any more. I shall be clean. Wash me and I shall be whiter than snow.’ She laughed. ‘That’s how it’s supposed to work.’

‘It gets better, Bethany. Whatever it is that’s making you feel this way, you’ll feel better about it in time. You’ll put it behind you.’

‘No.’

I was leaning across to see the road atlas Derwent liked to have in his car: he was old school, no faith in satnavs, no interest in relying on his mobile phone. I pointed at the black line that ran through it, representing the train tracks.

‘Why don’t you tell me about it?’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start.’

‘All right. Tell me about Chloe.’ I spoke louder to cover the sound of the engine starting. ‘Why did you run away with her?’

‘I thought it would keep her safe.’

Derwent put his hand out to flick on the siren and lights and I grabbed it, shaking my head. I couldn’t take the risk of spooking her.

‘Safe from what?’ The car swung round a corner and I grabbed on to the dashboard, bracing myself. ‘Who was she scared of?’

‘I can’t tell you. I don’t know.’ She sounded distracted again as another train hooted in the background and suddenly I remembered something I’d heard on the radio about engineering work overrunning, causing travel chaos on the line into Waterloo. Engineering work meant the trains that did run would be extra-slow, extra-cautious, and extra-noisy. The drivers had to blow the horn to warn the men to clear the track.

‘Go to the train station,’ I said to Derwent, covering the phone.

‘Is that where she is?’

‘No.’ That was all I had time to say before I had to speak to Bethany again. ‘So she told you she had to go and you ran away from home with her, without asking any questions?’

‘You don’t have to believe me.’

‘I don’t believe you were following Chloe’s plan, because I don’t think Chloe was capable of coming up with one.’ I waited and heard nothing. ‘Or am I wrong about her? Was everyone wrong about her?’

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