There’s a light on inside Claude’s farmhouse as I pull the car up opposite, parking as far over on the gravel lay-by as I can. The road’s so narrow that there wouldn’t be room for a car to pass if I didn’t. I silently apologise to the old man in Bratislava for scratching the side of his car.
I sit for a moment, taking in what’s happened and what I’m about to do. It sounds bizarre, but even though I’ve just spent twelve hours driving here, I still don’t know what I’m going to say to Claude. All I know is that if there’s a chance anyone can help me, it’ll be him. I’ve managed to get myself to the other side of Europe and back without being caught or killed – mainly thanks to a shave and a haircut and stealing other people’s cars, but also partially thanks to Lisa and Jess’s killer preferring to torment me rather than kill me.
I know for a fact I’ve not been followed here: you don’t drive for twelve hours from one side of Europe to the other without realising someone’s following you.
I think about what I’m going to say to Claude. I don’t need to say anything. He’ll know what to do. But I do need to tell him about Jess. I know they were close, I know he had been her salvation, and it pains me to think that I’m now going to have to tell him she’s been killed. How do you even go about a thing like that? Straight to the point, I guess.
I unlock the car, open the door and step out into the cool night air. My legs feel like tree trunks holding my weakened torso somewhat upright, my neck cracking as I rotate my head and push my shoulder blades backwards. I close the car door and cross the narrow lane, before pushing open the creaking gate that leads to Claude’s farmhouse.
When I get to the front of the house, I can hear a TV playing from inside. It reminds me of being back at the old man’s house in Bratislava, and I feel a pang of guilt at what I did to him. The thought also crosses my mind that he’s probably still sat there in front of the box, chuckling away at some late-night comedy programme, not having even realised his car’s halfway across Europe.
I ring the doorbell, then knock on the door. After a few seconds, I hear nothing – just the sound of the TV. It sounds like a game show, or perhaps one of those late-night shopping channels. Without speaking a word of French, it’s hard to tell. I ring the doorbell again, twice, and then knock louder. Still nothing.
There’s no way Claude will have slept through that, so I can only presume he’s not in the house. He can’t be far, though, judging by the fact the TV’s on. It’s late, but the only other place he could be is in the barn. I doubt if he’ll be out on the farm at this time.
I walk back down the path to the lane, then further up the road to the barn. As I get closer to it, I can see the large doors are slightly ajar. There’s no light inside, but I quicken my pace as I approach the barn.
When I get there, I call Claude’s name just before I get to the doors. Then I pause for a moment before pulling one of the large doors open a little further, calling inside.
‘Claude?’ My voice sounds croaky and weak.
I take a step inside, leaving the barn door open slightly to allow some moonlight to stream in. It’s the only light I’ve got.
I start to move around inside the barn, but I can’t see or hear anything.
‘Claude?’ I call again, wondering how the hell he can’t hear me. It’s deathly silent apart from my voice, which rattles and echoes around inside this huge barn.
Something isn’t right.
I turn to head back towards the open door, and it’s at that moment I notice the moonlight softening as a figure walks across the doorway and stands stock-still, a shadow being cast across me and the floor of the barn.
It’s not Claude. I know in an instant exactly who it is.
‘Hello, Daniel.’
63
For the first time in my life, I’m lost for words. I can’t even form a coherent thought, never mind speak.
‘I can tell you didn’t expect to find me here,’ Jess says, not moving. After a couple of seconds I shake my head slowly. ‘What’s wrong, Daniel? Don’t you believe in ghosts?’ She walks towards me, then past me, sitting herself down on a bale of hay. ‘Come. Sit with me.’
I’m struck dumb. I can’t say or do anything. I can only presume I’m hallucinating. I saw her lying dead on the floor of that caravan. She was as dead as Lisa had been that day at the hotel. Or had I imagined the whole thing?
‘Sit down, Daniel,’ she says, as if she’s speaking to a small child. Her tone of voice and the way she uses my full name takes me back to a time long before I met her, long before I met Lisa. It has the effect of jolting me awake, putting me right back into the here and now.
I walk over to her slowly, but don’t sit down. I stand a good fifteen feet or so away from her, keeping my distance.
‘Ghosts exist, Daniel. As you can see. Ghosts will always come back to haunt you.’
‘You’re dead,’ I say, eventually.
She smiles with one corner of her mouth. ‘In many ways. If you mean physically, then no.’
‘But you’re dead. I saw you. You were dead.’
‘Did you? Did you really?’ she says, taking a cigarette from her pocket and lighting it. She takes a huge drag and holds on to it before raising her chin and releasing the smoke into the barn. She does it with such ease, such grace, anyone would think she was a regular smoker. ‘Or did you just see me lying on the floor, panic and run off like you always do?’
‘No. You were dead. I felt your pulse.’ I can’t understand how this has happened.
‘You felt the pulse on my wrists, Daniel. Because even by your own admission you’re too feckless to find the pulse in the neck. Tennis balls under the armpits and squeeze. Oldest trick in the book. But then that’s your specialist subject, isn’t it? Always being one step behind everyone else.’
My head’s spinning. ‘Why?’ I ask. It’s all I can think to say.
She laughs. ‘Seriously? Why? Are you actually asking me that?’ I can see a flash of anger in her eyes. ‘Do you have any idea how I’ve been treated throughout my life? By men? Every man I’ve ever met has thought he can just use me for his own satisfaction. And it’s not just me, either. You had a wife at home, Daniel. The perfect, happy life. And you threw that all away for a few moments of pleasure. With someone you thought would give you an easy ride. No worries, no responsibilities. Well let me tell you this, Daniel. There are always responsibilities. Even if you don’t see them straight away. The moment you first took me up to your hotel room, you committed. You just didn’t know what to.’
‘This doesn’t make any sense,’ I say. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’