Milla shrugs, the capable adult performance weakening a notch. ‘I get that it’s not ideal. But Jess holds all the cards at the moment, doesn’t she? She threatened to post the video online if Lucy didn’t unblock her.’
‘She still might,’ Lucy whispers, her face creasing again. ‘I didn’t know she filmed us; I didn’t even know she was there. And she’ll have that forever, that hold over me.’
‘Not when the police find the real killer,’ I say, trying to reassure her. ‘Then it will just be an argument between a couple of teenage girls, something that happens all the time.’ I know that’s not true. All those armchair detectives and conspiracy theorists, diving on any so-called new evidence and declaring Lucy the real killer, no trial, no chance to defend herself. But at least she wouldn’t be in jail. And keyboard warriors often have short attention spans.
Lucy looks away. ‘But it’s not just that,’ she mumbles.
‘You heard what Amber shouted,’ Milla explains in a low voice. ‘About Bronwen.’
I replay the words in my mind. Fucking dyke. You both are. Realisation hits. Is that why Lucy was so desperate to get Bronwen’s letter back? Because something more than friendship happened between the girls before Bronwen left? Hopefully Lucy knows that we wouldn’t care, but it’s true that Bronwen’s family – including her grandparents who still live in the village – are much more conservative. They might not approve. But it’s more than that, anyway. Working out your sexuality is a scary, often bumpy road for every teenager. It should never be used as entertainment.
I’m about to say something to that effect when a light flashes from the carpet. Lucy’s phone glowing with a new message. We all stare at it for a few moments, then Lucy picks it up, her arms shaking wildly. The crying restarts almost instantly.
‘Can I read it?’ I ask. ‘Whatever she’s said, we can deal with it together; you’re innocent, remember.’
Lucy looks up at me, a mix of fear and gratitude on her face. This Lucy is so much more familiar than the aggressive stranger I watched on Jess’s video. As she gives me the phone, I squeeze her fingers. Then I look at the screen.
I saw you. You killed my sister.
Give me 10 gee and I won’t go to the feds.
‘What does it say?’ Milla asks, reaching for the phone. I hand it to her in silence then watch her read it. ‘Fuck,’ she exhales, elongating the word. ‘Well, I guess it’s good that it’s only ten grand. We can afford that, right?’
‘What?’ I spurt out. ‘We’re not paying her!’
‘Please, Mum,’ Lucy whimpers.
‘Not you as well!’ I push off the bed and start pacing the room. ‘Look, this is blackmail. Illegal. When you’ve done nothing wrong.’ But as I pause for breath, the message replays in my mind. ‘She said she saw you,’ I mumble.
‘Sorry?’
‘On the message. Jess said she saw you kill Amber.’
‘Well, she didn’t,’ Milla blurts out. ‘How could she? And you saw the video – Amber was completely fine except for a few cuts.’
I pause. I can’t believe I’m asking this. ‘Could there be another video?’
‘What? No, of course not! You can’t think I actually killed her, Mum?’
‘What happened to your jacket?’ I ask.
She sucks in air. ‘What?’
‘You were wearing your denim jacket in that video, but you only had a jumper on when I found you.’ I want to add that I can’t find that either, but that would mean admitting I’d searched her room, and this isn’t the time to be losing my moral advantage.
She’s quiet for a while, an imploring look on her face, then she drops her gaze to the carpet. ‘I’m not sure,’ she whispers. ‘I felt all hot and bothered after our fight, so I took it off. I must have put it down somewhere, maybe in the churchyard. I only realised I’d lost it when you forced us to go to the fun day and I wanted to wear it.’
‘That’s convenient,’ I can’t help muttering.
‘Oh my God, you’re unbelievable!’ Milla calls out, jumping to her sister’s defence again. ‘This is Lucy, remember? The most sweet-natured girl in the world? The one you’re supposed to love unconditionally? Her explanation makes perfect sense!’
‘I do love her unconditionally,’ I whisper, not adding what the term means, that I’d still love her even if she had killed someone. ‘And I do want to believe her; there’s just so much to take in.’
‘Well, try harder. Lucy didn’t kill Amber, okay?’
I bite my lip. I wish Matt was here. For all Milla’s swagger, I know she’s scared of him. But he’s not back until Friday. ‘Fine,’ I say. ‘Lucy’s done nothing wrong. But that’s even more reason to not pay this ransom demand. Because Jess is committing a crime. And this message,’ I continue, pointing at the phone in Milla’s hand, ‘is our evidence.’
‘But if we don’t pay her, she’ll put that video online, and then millions of people will think I killed her sister. I’ll be trolled by the whole world!’
‘And everyone knows the police are lazy bastards,’ Milla says. ‘Unless there’s masses of DNA incriminating someone else, they’ll see the footage and pin the murder on Lucy. They won’t care that it’s not what happened. Think about what Dad went through.’
‘Milla, you can’t let one unjust incident affect your opinion of the police for the rest of your life.’
‘It’s not one incident though, is it? The news is full of stories about the police fucking up. We need to deal with this, Mum. By ourselves. Dad’s earning way more than he did as a teacher, so I bet you’ve got at least ten grand in the bank. It’s not that much to you, but it’s a fortune to a 15-year-old foster kid. Maybe she wants it so that she can get out of Chinnor. And then we’d be free of her.’
‘And if that’s not her plan? If she wants to get our money and then post the video online anyway? Or take it to the police? Amber was her sister. Do you really think ten thousand pounds will be enough payback for her?’
Milla gives me a dark stare. She doesn’t like it, but she knows I’m right. ‘We’ll scare the shit out of her then.’
‘Sorry?’
‘There’s only one of her, but there’s four of us. If Jess thinks Lucy killed Amber, what do you reckon she’ll think Dad is capable of? Lucy’s always said that Jess was the weaker one of the two. The follower. Doing this must be way outside her comfort zone. So we give her the money, but say if she ever posts the video, Dad will hunt her down.’
‘You want us to threaten violence against a grieving 15-year-old vulnerable child? Dad, a teacher. Me, a social worker?’
‘For Lucy,’ Milla reminds me.
Then Lucy’s phone lights up in her hand. She passes it to her sister. Lucy blinks as she reads the message, then looks up.
