‘Wait!’ he said, his eyes ablaze.
‘Don’t you get it? I’m done waiting for you.’
‘Lottie, I’m going to Indonesia. I’m going to tell her there.’
‘You’re going to Indonesia? Good, stay there!’
I broke free from him.
‘Don’t do this, come on.’
‘Goodbye.’
That’s done now. It’s time to get through the next items of the list. Everything must be perfect. One mistake and the whole thing can blow up in my face. I won’t have him, but if he thinks he’s free from me, he has another thing coming.
***
The screen goes black, and the silence envelopes the room. No, it can’t be over... is that it? What does she mean with the items on her list? And what she said in the clip of her going to the apartment to end her non-existent affair with Davian. Everything must be perfect. One mistake and the whole thing can blow up in her face. What does it all mean? I check the date of the clip: two weeks before she died. Only unanswered questions. I jerk up as a sound comes from outside. Footsteps. Voices. Shit! I don’t move as I listen. The voices are coming from outside the door.
‘Why is most of the tape removed?’ a woman asks.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuckety fuck.
I slam the laptop shut. I shove my phone in my pocket and scan the room. Where am I going to hide? The door opens. Shit! I crawl under the bed, holding the bag under me. Something is shining on the floor. The lock pick. I stretch out from under the bed, my heart drumming against my chest.
‘Do you think someone has been here?’ a man asks.
It’s DC Gallagher and James. I reach for the lock pick and scrabble back under the bed, not making a sound, trying not to breathe.
Footsteps.
A pair of black pumps appear and I shut my eyes. Please don’t look under the bed. Please don’t look under the bed.
‘Clear,’ DC Gallagher shouts.
The shoes disappear from view.
‘All clear,’ he says.
They open something, a case by the sound of it, with latex gloves being put on.
‘We’ve searched the place already,’ James says.
‘It’s got to be somewhere,’ DC Gallagher says.
Their voices are close now.
‘The killer must have taken it and destroyed it,’ James says.
‘What sort of data does the laptop contain that got her killed for it?’
‘Blackmail, I suppose.’
They think she got killed because she was holding information on her laptop. She did, but not what they are suspecting. I place my hand over my mouth, but my ears are on alert.
‘We need to find something. So, we look again; something about this whole murder doesn’t add up.’
‘Yes, but I don’t know what we are supposed to look for.’
‘The whole thing seems odd...’ DC Gallagher says. ‘From the beginning, it didn’t seem right. I told you this.’
‘That whole thing was staged, yes.’
Does DC Gallagher think the murder was staged? How? Who would stage a murder?
‘You saw the facts, so we look again just in case forensics missed something.’
How in the hell I’m going to get out of this? What if they look under the bed? Not only do they find what they are looking for, but I’m going to prison for a very long time.
‘I still think we need to talk to Anthony again.’
I bury my hand in my mouth with the mention of my name.
‘Why?’
‘I don’t know; he rubs me up the wrong way,’ James says.
Am I a suspect?
‘We can’t arrest the kid for rubbing you up the wrong way. He is not a suspect, and you know that,’ DC Gallagher reasons.
‘Yeah, I know.’
‘You saw the video footage of him at the exhibition. I need to get to the bottom of this. Davian swore he didn’t have an affair with her. Just had sex with her a couple of times. Yes, his belongings were found here, but I don’t know.’
‘But his prints weren’t on the gun. Even though I know you want to nail him, you can’t,’ DC Taylor says.
‘Believe me, DC Taylor. I would love to nail that cold, good-looking son of a bitch,’ DC Gallagher says.
‘You really don’t like him, do you?’
‘No, I don’t.’
The black pumps return. Oh God! I’m so busted. What was I thinking of coming here? At least I know now I am not a suspect. So that’s good.
‘There is something, though, something we are missing, and it might be right in front of our noses,’ DC Gallagher adds. ‘That’s why we are here: to find something we might have missed.’
‘When did you say you’re going to hear back from the lab?’
‘In three days.’
James whistles. ‘The girl did spend a lot of money on exotic underwear.’
‘Put that away!’ DC Gallagher hisses at him.
More movements. What are they looking for?
‘I’ll take the kitchen,’ DC Taylor announces.
DC Gallagher moves about and opens a door. Lottie’s wardrobe by the sounds of it. Hangers moving.
The black pumps walk across the room. I see DC Gallagher only partially, with her hands on her hips. She must be desperate. This case is costing them a lot of money and time. I wish I could drop hints, but I can’t. She keeps staring down at the floor and takes a few strides to the dresser. She runs her hand over the surface and crouches down. I roll to my side even though DC Gallagher’s back is to me. She looks under the dresser. My back is soaked with sweat. I clutch the backpack, pressing so hard my knuckles are turning white.
‘DC Taylor!’
‘What?’
She picks up something, holding it with her latexed thumb and forefinger. What did she find? I can’t see, but it’s small.
‘Come here, I found something!’
Chapter Thirty-Four
‘Is that a... spring?’ DC Taylor asks.
‘Looks like it.’
‘Where did you find it?’
‘Under the dresser.’
‘Why would there be a spring?’ DC Taylor asks.
‘That’s what I’d like to find out.’
I lay my face on the carpet, listening to the sounds. Latex gloves being removed. A briefcase slamming shut until silence envelops the room. They’re gone. I lay there under the bed, my body paralysed. Lottie is there with me lying face down under the bed with me. Her face is half gone. The skin melted away, blood oozing out of it. I try to scream, but it’s as if I’m underwater. I see her face restore itself to how it was. I try to move, but I can’t, as if I woke up but my body is still asleep. I lift my head and bang it against the bed. I could lie here for a bit. Only for a bit.
It’s morning when I crawl out from under the bed and rush out of there before someone sees me and calls the police. Questions burden my mind as I lumber out into the street. People are out, on their way to work, too preoccupied to notice the lad with a black hoodie and backpack walking past them. What to do next? I haven’t solved anything. Shall I leave the laptop in the police station? I’m sure it will help DC Gallagher with more clues, but how am going to do that?
The flat above me is playing music. I enter the kitchen, light a cigarette and open the fridge. There is a carton of milk and a block of cheese. I sit down at the kitchen table with cheddar cheese for breakfast. I cut the cheese in chunks and pop it in my mouth. The taste melts on my tongue. I slide the laptop out of my backpack. Now that I know the information it has, I don’t know what to do with it. I can’t take it directly to the police, but I can leave it. I go back to the photos and Post-its. The only parts in those clips that were true are the night of Davian’s exhibition and of the house. I haven’t found who killed her. Maybe the police will, in time. I pick up the photo with the hearts again; I don’t know for how long I sit there eating cheese and staring at it, trying to comprehend the meaning of it. Why was it in her bedroom at her parents’? It looks innocent; only a photo given as an apology. I put the photo down and light a cigarette. I switch on the lamp and rub my neck. I’m tired and sore. I’ll give anything for a night of good sleep. I think of my next move. I don’t have any. I mash the cigarette in the ashtray. There isn’t much I can do but sleep, or try to. I switch off the lamp and switch it on again quickly. I glance at the photograph, face down. I switch off the lamp and turn it on again. Something is written on that photograph. I look in the cupboards. I’m sure I have a UV light somewhere. I open drawers and cupboards until I find it. I fumble with the switch when it does. I place it at the back of the photograph and the words become visible. Lottie had left a message, her final words.