I see someone I recognise, a woman who’s been my adversary for the last week but is now my rescuer. I try a smile, but her eyes are on the knife jutting out of me, it’s handle butted up against my collarbone. Bzowski pulls out her phone and calls for an ambulance. As the adrenalin ebbs away, I feel spent. Like I could drift into unconsciousness and sleep forever.
‘Stay alert, Rachel,’ Bzowski says quietly. ‘The paramedics are on their way.’ I try to focus on her face, her concerned eyes. ‘And lie absolutely still. From the blood loss, it doesn’t seem like the blade has hit any major blood vessels, which is good, but it’s important not to move.’
I blink to tell her I understand, that I’m grateful. Then I hear his voice. Sean shouting at DI Finnemore. ‘I didn’t kill Amber, you fucking moron!’
But Finnemore cuts him off. ‘I’ve just had confirmation that your blood was found on her body, and we have a witness who places you at the crime scene, so I suggest you keep the insults to a minimum.’
‘I … I saw her afterwards, all right!’ Sean stutters. ‘After she died. And I cut my hand on a bramble when I was walking there! I freaked when I saw her, did a runner. I’m not gonna trust the feds, am I?’
‘That’s the most rubbish story I’ve ever heard,’ Finnemore mutters. Then he shoves Sean, still arguing, out of the bedroom and it’s just Bzowski and me.
‘Sean killed Amber then,’ I whisper, wanting to hear her say it too, like a child seeking more reassurance.
‘It looks that way.’
‘And Jess?’ I ask, my heart rate ticking up despite the pain as I think about the Waitrose bag of cash. The badger. The car in the garage.
‘He’ll be asked about her in his interview,’ she explains quietly. Then she sits up straighter as a noise filters through the thin walls. ‘That must be the paramedics,’ she says.
I say a silent prayer of thanks for the imminent pain relief and turn towards the door. But the sight is better than anything paracetamol could do.
‘Mum!’ two voices screech in unison, then my daughters come tumbling into the room.
AFTER
Monday 13th May
Rachel
‘Girls? What are you doing here?’
‘Oh my God, Mum! What’s happened?’ Lucy lurches towards me, but Bzowski reaches out, stops her from getting any closer.
‘Sorry, Lucy,’ she says. ‘The ambulance will be here any minute, but for now, we need to give your mum some space.’
‘What the hell’s going on, Mum?’ Milla asks, her voice crosser than her sister’s. A coping mechanism she’s inherited from me. Then she gives Bzowski a sideways glance. ‘Never mind, I’m just glad you’re okay.’
‘How did you find me?’ I whisper. ‘Is Dad here too?’
The girls exchange a look, then shift their eyes back to me. ‘Felix lent me his car,’ Milla starts. ‘I got Lucy from school and then tracked you via that GPS key ring I got you for Christmas. It said your car keys were somewhere in this block. We were trying to figure out which flat you might be in when a police response van arrived, and we just followed them in.’
‘But … but why were you even looking for me?’ I stutter. Lucy opens her mouth to speak, but Milla jumps in.
‘You weren’t answering your phone. And no one at work knew where you were. I knew I had to find you. Call it a daughter’s instinct.’
My eyes fill with tears. It’s all too easy to dwell on what you lose when your child becomes an adult; it’s good to be reminded what you gain. I want to tell them everything. Tell Lucy that none of this is her fault, that she was only bullied because of who her father was. And that the boy who made their dad’s life hell two years ago was behind it all. That he was friends with Amber, but that it must have been a toxic kind of friendship because the police think he killed her. And maybe he’s behind Jess’s disappearance too.
But I can’t say any of this in front of Bzowski so we fall into an awkward silence. Milla’s expression is closed, Lucy’s wide-eyed, and Bzowski’s curious. But suddenly there’s a buzzing sound. Bzowski’s phone is ringing, and I say a silent prayer of thanks. She looks at it for a moment, then back at me. ‘I’ll just be a minute. Remember, no movement.’ Then she puts the phone to her ear and slips out of the room.
‘This is Sean Russo’s flat,’ I admit quietly once she’s gone.
Lucy darts a look at her sister. ‘The guy who accused Dad? Why did you come here?’
‘I was looking for Jess. I felt responsible I suppose, with Dad being the last person to see her before she went missing.’
‘That’s crazy,’ Milla mumbles, but it sounds false. I give her a questioning look, but she shifts her gaze away from me.
‘I knew Jess would have her own file at work,’ I continue. ‘I shouldn’t have looked, it was very unprofessional, but I thought if I found out a bit more about her, I might be able to figure out where she’d gone.’
Lucy’s head jerks up. ‘Did her file say why she moved away from Oxford?’
‘Yes,’ I say cautiously. ‘Why?’
‘Did it talk about her being the mystery witness in Dad’s case?’
I inhale. ‘How did you know?’
‘Bronwen worked it out, at least that’s what she thought based on what she’d found out. It was all in her letter,’ Lucy explains. ‘That’s why I snapped on the night Amber died. Not only was she making my life hell, she was involved in ruining Dad’s. Bronwen thought she’d found a way to solve my problem. She was so happy for me, but then Amber stole the letter and threatened to kill me if I told anyone.’
‘I found out this morning,’ Milla jumps in. ‘Well, guessed really. When the police spoke to Dad. They asked him if he knew who Jess really was.’
As I look at their faces – the mix of fear and anger in their expressions – I realise that they’re suspicious of Matt too. ‘Yes, but that doesn’t mean …’
‘Mum, what if Dad didn’t hit a badger on Friday night?’ Milla asks quietly. ‘What if he actually hit Jess, then got rid of her body somehow? He’s been acting weird since then. Fuck, he could even have killed Amber when he was supposedly out looking for Lucy. Don’t say you haven’t thought it too.’
God, my shoulder is hurting. ‘Sean killed Amber,’ I tell my daughter through gritted teeth. ‘DI Finnemore has just arrested him for it.’
‘Like they arrested that other guy, do you mean?’ she throws back. ‘Before letting him go?’
‘Jesus, Milla!’ I hiss as quietly as I can. ‘Your dad isn’t a killer.’
‘You thought I killed her though, didn’t you?’ Lucy says, her voice small. ‘When you found out about the blog, and then me meeting up with her. You thought I was capable of it.’
‘And me,’ Milla whispers. ‘When you talked about the torch being dirty. That was because you thought I might have whacked her with it.’
‘No,’ I say, tears welling up in my eyes. Then: ‘I’m sorry.’ Because they’re right; I did suspect them, if only fleetingly. How could I possibly have thought that of either of my children? And the truth is, I suspected my husband too. Do I still? Sean has been arrested for Amber’s murder, but even as the police dragged him away, he was still shouting that he was innocent. And Jess is out there, her disappearance unexplained.
I look at my daughters again. I brought these two young women into the world. Please God, don’t let me have burdened them with a father who kills teenage girls.
The door opens and two paramedics stride in. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting,’ the first one says, her ponytail bobbing as she delivers her apology. ‘Manic shift already. I’m Hema, and this is Jon.’
‘Hi,’ I murmur. ‘It’s fine.’ I listen to the thwack, thwack of them pulling their gloves on, then feel a tourniquet tighten around my arm. As I wait for the sharp scratch of the needle – and the longed-for pain relief – Bzowski walks back in.
‘Good news,’ she says, a grin spreading across her face. ‘Jessica Scott has been found. Alive.’
A warm feeling floods through me. A heady mix of pain relief and knowing Jess is safe.
‘Wow.’ Milla exhales. ‘Where is she?’
