I say, ‘Unless she was actually hoping for that.’
‘Yeah. Maybe not even consciously, but she had to know it could happen. And she was getting desperate for this whole thing to be over. Every time she saw Rory, or even talked to him, she got more smitten. Deep down, all she really wanted to do was forget the whole Joe mess had ever happened, and go off and spend twenty-four hours a day snuggling and giggling with Rory. She just couldn’t quite make herself let go of the Joe plan. Maybe part of her was hoping that Joe would call round, see Rory, throw a wobbler and stamp off into the sunset. Make the decision for her.’ Lucy catches the look on my face. We’ve been watching each other for so long, we’re getting good at each other. ‘I know. You think I don’t know? Like I said, she was miles out of her depth. She could’ve genuinely thought it would go down that way. Just that simple.’
Jesus Christ. ‘If only,’ I say.
Lucy says, ‘He did it. Didn’t he? Joe killed Aislinn.’
I say, ‘You need to keep quiet about this whole conversation. No dropping hints to your mates, nothing. Is that clear?’
‘Yeah, it is. I’ve kept quiet about this for months; I’m not going to start yapping now. I just need to know.’
I’m not gonna be McCann, doling out info in prissy little drips only when my all-knowing enlightened self has determined that it’s for someone’s own good. ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘I’m pretty sure he did.’
Lucy puts a knuckle to her mouth and nods for a long time. This wasn’t a surprise, but hearing it out of my mouth changes it. It takes her a while to get used to.
She asks, ‘Was it on purpose? Was he actually trying to kill her, or was it something where he just snapped and didn’t realise . . . ?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Has he ever done anything like this before? I mean, not exactly like this, obviously, but—’
I say, ‘You mean, should you have seen this coming.’
‘Yeah.’
‘I wouldn’t have,’ I say, ‘and I know McCann a lot better than you do. I’ve never heard even a hint of a rumour about him smacking his wife around, or giving a suspect the slaps – and we all know who does that, when they can get away with it, and who doesn’t. He’s not a violent guy.’
‘The thing is, I was scared this would blow up. I said to Aislinn . . .’ Lucy catches a tight breath. ‘Back in September, when she told me she’d got Joe into bed. I asked her – we were in the Flowing Tide, but it was noisy enough that we could talk – I said, “Have you told him I’m your best friend?” She said no, they hadn’t really talked about anything except Joe and his general amazingness. I said, “Then don’t. Please. Make sure you tell him I’m just someone you go for drinks with, every now and then.” Ash was like, “Why? I’m not going to pretend you don’t matter to me.” ’ Lucy’s eyes close for a second on that. ‘But I told her, “When you pull the trigger, he’s going to be raging. He’s not going to just go away and sob into his pint. You’ll be in Peru or wherever, seeing Machu Picchu and shagging gorgeous backpackers; he won’t be able to get to you. But if he knows I’m your best friend, he’ll know he can get to you by doing things to me.” ’
‘“Things,” ’ I say. ‘What were you worried he’d do?’
‘I didn’t even get as far as specifics. I just . . . Me on my own in this flat, you know? A Guard could do whatever he wanted: plant anything, do anything. I didn’t want to find out. I figured I was safest staying far away from the whole drama.’ Lucy’s head goes back. That dry flick of a laugh, up at the ceiling. That hasn’t gone to plan. ‘But that wasn’t even the real point. The point was, I needed to get it through to Ash: This isn’t a game. I’m genuinely frightened that you’re doing something that’s actually, real-life dangerous. I knew she didn’t give a fuck that she was taking risks, but I thought maybe if she realised she could be putting me at risk as well, she might pay attention.’
‘But even that didn’t get through.’
‘Nope.’ A small jerky shrug. Even through everything else, that still stings. ‘Aislinn said sure, OK, she’d drop in a mention of me, make sure Joe thought I was just some sort-of-friend left over from school. But she was only doing it to shut me up. She didn’t think it was important. Like I said: all she could hear was the story in her head. Anything outside that was just . . .’ Lucy makes a yappy-mouth sign with one hand. ‘Just noise. And I should’ve known that.’
‘Aislinn had got herself in deep,’ I say. ‘You did your best.’
She shakes her head like I don’t get it. ‘No. Where I went wrong was, I never thought of this. I knew Aislinn was playing with fire, and I knew Joe was the wrong guy to pull this shite on – someone who thinks he’s got the right to decide whether or not you know where your own father’s gone, how’s he going to react when someone else does the same thing to him? But I never thought of this. I thought maybe when Ash dumped him he might hit her, yeah. But mainly I was worried that he’d decide to fuck up her life. Have her arrested for some bogus reason, land her in jail, make her spend years and thousands of quid fighting made-up charges, then start all over again. That was what I thought, when you guys showed up here on Sunday: that Joe had called round to Aislinn’s, he’d seen Rory there, and he’d found some way to have her arrested for something.’
‘Makes sense,’ I say. ‘That’s what I would’ve worried about, too.’
‘And instead it was this.’ Lucy has her fingers wound in the fringe of the throw, so tight they’ve gone white and lumpy. ‘And now I keep wondering . . . what if I’d said the opposite to Aislinn, that night? If I’d said, “You make sure Joe knows how close we are.” If he’d known that Ash was probably telling me the whole story. Do you think he’d have . . . ? Would he have stopped himself from . . . ?’
It would have made no difference. The split second where McCann decided to throw that punch was too small to fit any calculations. But I need Lucy feeling guilty.
‘No way to tell,’ I say. ‘And no point in beating yourself up over it now. You just do everything you can to help me get him.’
Lucy’s eyes come up to meet mine. She says bluntly, ‘You said the other detectives want you out. Are you going to be around to get him?’
I say, ‘I never have given one solitary fuck what the other detectives want.’
‘Seriously. Because I’m not going to go in there and sign a statement about all this, and maybe have Joe fucking up my life, if it’s not even going to do any good.’
I say, ‘I can’t guarantee you that McCann will go to prison. Even with your evidence, we’ve got maybe a fifty-fifty shot. But what I can guarantee you is that, if you put what you’ve told me into an official statement, his life won’t just go back to the way it was. I’m gonna make absolutely fucking sure of that, and I’m not going anywhere till it’s done. Is that good enough?’