Питер Джеймс - Left You Dead

‘You’re right. They’re not buying it totally. But my sense is nor are they discounting it, they still think it’s a strong possibility. That’s what I mean by this bringing our plan back on track. Cops are suspicious and cynical — that’s in their DNA, yes?’

‘I guess,’ Eden replied.

‘But, as I’ve said, they’re all under pressure to solve crimes, meet targets. When Niall’s body is recovered from the bottom of the Beachy Head cliffs, it’s going to be an easy tick-box exercise for them. He’s claimed his wife has gone missing. The evidence points to him lying, and to him having murdered her, even if they don’t have actual proof. All the stuff you did with his phone, our clever work making sure your car was in all the right places at the right times, all the evidence you planted in the house. And the master stroke of the shallow grave. It’s there on a plate for the plod. If they had concerns before, this deals with them. They’re going to be happy, you and I will be happy. It’s a win-win!’

‘Can’t we do this without killing him?’

Rebecca cocked her head. ‘You’d be taking a big personal risk. Think about it. You’ve faked your disappearance and in the process left a complex trail of evidence indicating that your husband’s murdered you and disposed of your body. Do you want to risk ending up in court and getting a criminal record? That would finish your career and prevent you from ever getting a decent job again. And leave your bastard, abusive husband out there biding his time for revenge?’

Eden was silent for a long while. Finally, she said gloomily, ‘What a sodding mess.’

Rebecca shook her head. ‘Nope, not at all. As I said, trust me. I have a plan.’

When Roy Grace arrived home shortly after 6.30 p.m., Cleo was sitting on a sofa in the living area, her laptop on the coffee table in front of her, wearing headphones and nodding her head to music while reading a book.

She clearly hadn’t heard Humphrey barking his greeting to his master, nor the sound of the door, and she looked up with a start as her husband entered the room. Instantly, she tapped a key on her laptop and removed the headset. ‘Darling, hi! Great you’re home early! I thought you’d be much later.’

He kissed her, then hesitantly said, ‘Managed to escape!’

‘Good!’

‘What are you reading?’

‘It’s by Laura Whitmore.’ She held the book up and he looked at the catchy cover.

‘ No One Can Change Your Life Except For You ,’ he read out. ‘Is it good?’

She nodded. ‘It is, yes, very. I bought it because I thought I might learn something for Bruno. I like the way she writes, really down to earth, no nonsense. Listen to this.’ She flipped back a couple of pages and read aloud, ‘“We can blame the selfish or thoughtless actions of others for our circumstances, but we can’t change those actions. We can change how we comprehend them or how we act.”’

He nodded. ‘Very true. So, how are you?’

She gave him a wan smile. ‘I’m bearing up, I suppose — how about you?’

He took a deep breath. ‘The same. I’m fine so long as I’m busy. The moment I stop, I start thinking about everything. How’s Noah?’

‘Kaitlynn said he’s been bloody awful all day. She reckons he’s finally entering the terrible twos.’

‘So if he’s started late, let’s hope he finishes them early,’ Roy said, peeling off his jacket, loosening his tie and fiddling with the top button of his shirt until he prised it open. ‘We can only hope!’

‘Chance would be a fine thing.’ She grimaced. ‘I’ve been working on the music for Bruno’s funeral.’

He looked solemn. ‘Thanks, that’s great.’

‘I’ve only made a start — I need your help.’

‘Sure.’

‘I’ve been going through Bruno’s Spotify playlists on his laptop.’

‘No password?’

‘I found it on a Post-it stuck to the inside of a drawer in his bedroom.’

‘I’ve always said you’d make a great detective.’ He smiled.

She shook her head. ‘No, I wouldn’t — I have a life.’ She gave him a strange look.

It wounded him. Even more at this moment, when he was about to break the news about his commitment for Thursday night. ‘Hey! Meaning?’

‘You know exactly what I mean. I would never want you to change, I know how much you love your work. I’m not saying it as a criticism, it’s what you are, it’s what makes you the man I married. It’s what makes you the man I love.’

He sat down on the sofa and put an arm around her. ‘You do an incredible job, too, being with people, comforting them at the worst moment in their lives.’

‘Thanks, but I’m worried for how much longer I’ll be able to do that,’ she said. ‘It’s the thing I love most about my job. But new technology is taking that away from me. Nowadays identifying a victim is dealt with mostly by DNA or dental records, and relatives are no longer identifying their loved ones in person. I’d really miss that human contact. It’s always tough. Someone leaves home and drops dead, or is killed in an accident, and I feel a real sense of achievement if I’m able to give the loved ones some crumb of comfort. I’d hate that to be taken away. You’re lucky, in one way, no matter how grim — you’ll always have that human contact.’

Grace mentally skipped over the times when, as a junior copper having to deliver the death message, he’d been punched in the face, had furniture thrown at him, had to try to calm someone lying on the floor screaming, clawing at the air. ‘I guess.’

He bided his time; this wasn’t the moment to tell her that he’d be working Thursday night. ‘Can I hear what you’ve put together on the playlist so far?’

She leaned forward and tapped a couple of keys.

On what felt like the longest evening of her life, Eden was a bag of nerves. Riddled with doubts. Thinking how few killers ever actually got clean away with it. There was almost always something, one mistake or one witness or one clever, probing detective who finally got the killer to crack. And even when that didn’t happen, oftentimes killers found themselves tormented by guilt.

She couldn’t stop reflecting on a novel she had read, years ago, called Thérèse Raquin , because it reminded her so much of her current situation. Maybe stupidly, she’d downloaded it onto her Kindle a few days ago and had been reading it again during her isolation. Thérèse was married to her useless husband, Camille, but desperate to be with her lover, Laurent. They murdered her husband and life should have been wonderful from then on, except it wasn’t. They were both so haunted by the knowledge of what they had done that ultimately their guilt destroyed them.

Could she live with the knowledge that she had sent Niall to his death? However much she hated him? However much he had hurt her in the past? And despite knowing he had been planning to kill her?

Would he really have gone through with “getting rid of” her? Was she being pushed by Rebecca, coerced by her into doing this? Was she being weak in not standing up to Rebecca and telling her she couldn’t go through with this? And — she churned this over and over — what was going to happen when she met Niall, face to face, shocking the hell out of him?

Or would it shock him at all?

Niall knew she was almost certainly alive and he would be mad as hell with her. Crazy mad for all she’d put him through. And she’d seen him mad before. Scary. Very scary. Definitely capable of killing, like he did with their baby. Was it smart to meet him, in pitch darkness, on a remote clifftop?