‘Okay,’ she said, swallowing her irritation. ‘A woman called Annie Holden lives in that house. I came to London today because I want to speak to her.’
‘About what?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Of course it matters,’ Ed said. ‘You’re a journalist, Dee. There’s only one reason you’re trying to speak to someone who clearly doesn’t want to speak to you. It’s a story you’re working on, isn’t it?’
‘No, actually. That’s not why I’m here. Besides, how do you know she doesn’t want to speak to me?’
He smiled, and Dee’s stomach did that irritating flip-flop thing it did whenever he looked at her the way he was looking at her right now.
‘Do you really need a detective to work it out for you?’
Dee smiled back. She couldn’t help it.
‘You mean if she’s got someone to lie about her living there, the chances are she’s avoiding me.’
‘I’d say that’s a pretty reasonable assumption.’
‘If I tell you why I’m really here,’ Dee said, ‘do you promise – I mean absolutely promise, so you can’t change your mind no matter what I tell you – to just hear me out without interrupting and giving your opinion?’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘Good. Although the truth is, I don’t even know where to start. It’s so complicated.’
‘When isn’t it complicated with you?’
‘Shut up.’
‘Sorry.’ He sat back, crossed his legs and said he was ready to listen.
She told him everything, starting with meeting the woman she thought was her cousin in Gordon’s Wine Bar, ending with the conversation she’d had with Emer on the phone last night.
‘So?’ she said, when she’d finished, ‘What do you think?’
She expected him to jump right in and tell her the whole thing sounded every bit as crazy as she’d warned him it would. Instead, he remained very quiet, as if he was carefully considering everything she’d told him. Unless, of course, the account had left him so lost for words he didn’t know what to say.
‘Ed?’
‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to make some sort of sense of it, that’s all.’
‘That’s the problem,’ Dee said, ‘it doesn’t make any sense.’
‘No,’ Ed said. ‘But I know you. I don’t think you’d be pursuing this crazy story unless you really believed there was something in it.’
It was so far from the reaction she’d expected, Dee wasn’t sure how to respond. A painful lump had appeared in her throat and she needed to swallow several times before she could speak.
‘What do I do now?’
‘Any chance you could let me look into this before you do anything else?’ Ed said.
‘You mean you want to help me?’
‘I mean, I’d like a bit of time to look into Annie’s background. Would that be okay?’
‘I guess.’
‘Great.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got to get going. I’m working the late shift today and I need to get back for that. Did you get the train? I can give you a lift if you want to?’
‘It’s okay,’ Dee said. ‘I’ve got a few more things to do before heading home.’
‘Promise me you’ll take care of yourself?’
‘Scout’s honour.’
‘You’d better.’ When he leaned down and kissed her cheek, it was all she could do not to grab him and hold him tight.
‘Hang on,’ she said, as he turned to go. ‘You never told me what you’re doing here today.’
‘You’re right.’ He smiled. ‘I never did. See you around, Dee.’
‘Hey!’ She shouted, but he kept walking. She didn’t bother chasing after him, knowing it was pointless. He’d already decided not to tell her, and nothing she did would get him to change his mind. Thankfully, the irritation replaced the vague sense of loss she’d felt right after he’d kissed her cheek. By the time he was out of sight, she was able to convince herself she was glad he was gone.
A few minutes later, she was back outside Annie’s house. This time, when she rang the doorbell, no one answered. Deciding to try some of the other houses, Dee walked along the terrace to the first house in the row and rang the doorbell.
An elderly man answered, peering suspiciously at Dee from behind a pair of the thickest glass spectacles Dee had ever seen.
‘I’m trying to find my cousin,’ Dee said. ‘I know she lives in this neighbourhood, but I’ve lost her address so I’m trying all the houses on this street until I find hers.’
‘Sounds a bit dodgy if you ask me,’ the man said. ‘My daughter’s always telling me not to trust people who turn up at the house unannounced. Scammers, she calls them. How do I know this isn’t some scam?’
‘It’s no scam,’ Dee said. ‘Her name’s Annie. She’s early thirties, with short blond hair. Does anyone who looks like that live on this street?’
‘People on this street come and go all the time,’ he said. ‘Wasn’t always like that, but most of these places are buy to let properties. Rental market is a fluid one. I hardly know any of them. Don’t think I can help you, love. Sorry.’
He started to close the door, but Dee put her hand out, stopping him.
‘The man who lives at number thirty-two, do you know him?’
‘Like I said, I don’t know any of them along here these days. Now do me a favour and sod off, would you?’
She tried a few more houses with no luck. Most of the properties were empty and the few people who opened the door weren’t able to help her. Dee thought back to her own time in London, trying to remember if her neighbourhood had been as anonymous as this one. She didn’t remember it like that, but maybe she viewed that time of her life through rose-tinted glasses.
Giving up on the neighbours Dee crossed the road, found a place where she could see Annie’s house, and waited. Two hours later, she was still waiting and no one had come in or out of the house. Her throat was dry and a gathering of grey clouds in the sky warned of rain on the way. Frustrated and fed up, Dee started walking back along Wapping High Street towards the Underground station. But passing a wine bar, she saw a woman inside with bleached blond hair. Thinking her luck had changed, she pushed the door open and went inside.
The wine bar was busy, with couples and groups of people sitting at tables, drinking glasses of wine and sharing plates of cheese. Dee scanned the faces, searching for Annie’s distinctive eyes. There were several women in here with blond hair, but none of them resembled Annie. After a moment, Dee went back outside. As the door gently closed behind her, the buzz of conversation disappeared. A gust of wind blew in from the river, a clap of thunder grumbled in the distance and the rain that had been threatening came pouring down, soaking her within seconds. Autumn had arrived with a bang. By the time she reached the Underground station, she was soaking, freezing and utterly miserable.
Twenty-nine
Back in Eastbourne, there was no sign of the rain that had soaked her in London. After a hot shower and a supper of cheese on toast, Dee poured herself a glass of wine, put her jacket on and carried her laptop onto the deck.
On the horizon, the sun was sinking closer to the surface of the water. The sky and sea were streaked with shades of red and burnt orange; the grey and white shingle seemed to glow. Dee soaked it all in, telling herself that whatever else was wrong in her life, she’d got this bit right. Living here, on this deserted beach, was something she’d always be grateful for.
Earlier, she’d had an email from Shay. He’d managed to speak with Lucy’s sister, Maeve, and had arranged to meet her next week. He told Dee he’d also remembered that, at the time Kitty drowned, both her parents had been working for Robert O’Brien.
Ursula was his PA, Shay wrote. Robert didn’t employ Eamon full-time but he gave him odd jobs every now and then. Looking back over my notes, it seems Eamon was doing some decorating work for Robert when Kitty drowned. It’s why Eamon wasn’t on holiday with the re
st of the family. Since speaking to you this morning, I’m more convinced than ever there’s a story here. One other thing that may interest you. According to several people I’ve spoken to, Robert is devoted to Ursula. So, whatever else he may or may not have done, I think you can rule out an affair. Let me know how you got on in London today?
So far, she hadn’t got back to him because she didn’t know what to tell him. On the train back to Eastbourne, she’d resisted the urge to go onto the internet and search for information on Annie Holden. She knew it was better to give her mind time to process everything that had happened. She didn’t want her own feelings – frustration, confusion, anger – to blur the facts.
Further along the beach, she could see Ella and Jake with a group of friends. They looked like they were having a picnic. Their voices and laughter travelled along the beach to where Dee sat. She knew she could go and join them if she wanted. She’d met Ella’s friends before and they were a friendly bunch – other young mothers like Ella, with children and families of their own – but Dee had little in common with them. She didn’t think she could face an evening smiling and laughing and acting as if everything was okay, when inside she felt like shit.
One question kept niggling her. Why had Ed been there? The more she thought about it, the more Dee realised his sudden appearance outside Annie’s house wasn’t a coincidence.
She typed three names into her internet browser: Ed Mitchell, Fiona Holden, Annie Holden. Almost immediately, the results came back. Over 1 million of them, but Dee saw immediately she wouldn’t have to scroll far to get the information that she needed. It was all there on the first page. The shock of it being this easy took a moment to sink it. Once it had, Dee clicked on the first result and started reading.
By the time she’d finished, night had drawn in. The sky was a pitch black blanket, broken by the twinkling lights of faraway stars and the silver sliver of a crescent moon. Several times, while reading the different news stories, Dee had had to stand up and pace back and forth along the deck. The adrenaline rush of discovering so much at once made it impossible to sit still.
Eventually, she pushed her laptop away, and went inside to call Leonard.
‘Hear me out,’ she said when he answered, ‘and don’t interrupt until I’ve finished.’
‘Good evening to you too,’ Leonard said.
‘Annie Holden has a photo of Kitty and Emer when they were children. I was at her house yesterday and I saw it. But when I went back there today to ask her about it, a man told me no one called Annie had ever lived there. Now, I know that’s not true, because I met her mother there the day before.
‘Plus, I tried to contact Emer yesterday. When I couldn’t get hold of her, I phoned her mother’s house in Ireland. A woman called Emer answered the phone and said she’d never met me before. When I told her we’d already met, she didn’t know what I was talking about.’
Leonard started to speak, but Dee interrupted him.
‘Shh, Leonard. Please. I need to work this out, and the only way I can do that is by talking about it. Do you remember Ed Mitchell? Yup. That’s him. Good. While I was outside Annie’s house – which, just to be clear, is in London – Ed turned up asking me what I was doing there. And do you know what’s really weird? When I told him why I’d been looking into Annie, he seemed to take me seriously. I expected him to tell me the whole thing was ridiculous, but he didn’t do that. Which got me wondering… What did he already know about her?’
‘And you’ve worked that out?’
‘Damn right.’ Dee was so pleased with herself she didn’t even mind the interruption. ‘Get this, Leonard. Ten years ago, a man called Michael Holden was charged with murder. The murder took place in a village called Alfriston, which is about ten miles from Eastbourne.’
Dee paused, making sure she got all the facts right and didn’t forget anything. Going back onto the deck, she scrolled through the different news stories about the murder.
The unnamed body of a man had been found buried in a shallow grave in the countryside surrounding the village. A local dog walker had discovered the body. The victim was never identified, but the police found the killer following an appeal to the public. A local man, Michael Holden, was arrested and charged with the murder. Witnesses had seen him near the scene of the crime, and there were enough traces of his DNA on the victim’s body for the CPS to bring a case against him. Michael Holden served ten years in prison for manslaughter.
The story had been widely covered, and Dee had vague memories of reading about it at the time. What had particularly interested people was the killer’s motivation. According to everyone who knew him, Michael Holden was a quiet, unassuming man who’d never committed a crime before in his life. Yet for reasons no one had ever been able to work out, he had gone out one night in October 2010 and killed a man he claimed he’d never met before. The police had never been able to find anything to link Michael Holden to his victim. In the intervening years, several journalists had revisited the story, but had never found out what had motivated Michael Holden to kill a complete stranger.
‘He’s Annie’s father,’ Dee said. ‘She was in her early twenties when the murder happened. There are plenty of references to Fiona in the stories about the murder, and photos of her at the trial. But there’s nothing about Annie.’
‘You know, this goes a long way to explaining why she was so reluctant to speak to you,’ Leonard said. ‘Something like that in your life, it’s bound to make you wary of strangers.’
‘I suppose so,’ Dee said.
‘What about Ed Mitchell? Where does he fit into this?’
‘I was wondering when you’d ask.’ Dee clicked on one of the stories, searching until she found the sentence she wanted:
Standing outside the court after the sentencing, Detective Ed Mitchell, who led the investigation into the murder, gave a brief statement.
‘He was in charge of the investigation,’ Dee said, ‘which means he knows Annie and Fiona.’
A photo of Ed accompanied the story. Ten years ago, he had more hair and less bodyweight. Apart from that, he’d barely aged at all since the photo had been taken. Seeing him today had shaken her more than she wanted to admit. She’d spent the past few months doing all she could to forget about him. Then today… Wham! The old feelings she’d had for him had resurfaced, as sharp and strong as ever.
‘We need to find Annie,’ Leonard asked. ‘She’s the key to all of this. Whatever this turns out to be.’
‘How?’
‘There’s something I didn’t tell you,’ Leonard said. ‘Do you remember that old bloke she was visiting in Stockwell? You told me not to go back, but I couldn’t help myself. I went to the pub where she’d met him and he was there. I followed him back to his flat. I didn’t get a name for him, but I know where he lives.’
‘Good,’ Dee said, glad for once Leonard had ignored her advice. ‘Let’s go there tomorrow, see if we can get him to speak to us.’ She paused, as a thought occurred to her. ‘Could he be Eamon, do you think?’
‘Emer’s father? Possibly. He’s about the right age, I imagine. Depends whether or not Annie turns out to be your cousin. Best not to go jumping to any conclusions just yet, okay?’
‘You’re right.’ Dee wondered what it would mean to discover her father’s brother was alive after all this time.
‘If she really is Kitty,’ Leonard said, ‘then she must have a damn good reason for not wanting anyone to know about it.’
‘I know.’ Ella had said more or less the same thing. ‘But what am I meant to do? Just forget everything I’ve found out?’
He laughed. As so often happened, the laugh turned into a hacking cough.
‘You’re like me, Doran. A hack through and through. We’ve started this, and now we’ll have to finish it. One way or the other.’
On the road at the front of the house, Dee heard the sound of a car approaching. Light from the headlights swept across the shingle, briefly illuminating the beac
h, before the world plunged into darkness again.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said. ‘Call me tomorrow after you’ve been to Stockwell.’
‘I’ll do that. And Dee?’
‘Yes?’
‘Promise me you’ll be careful.’
‘Cross my heart.’
She hung up, listening to the sound of a car door slamming and the crunch of footsteps as someone approached her house. Leonard’s words echoed through her head and suddenly she felt afraid. She rarely had visitors, especially this late in the evening. As the events of the last few days came rushing back, Dee realised that digging into Kitty’s disappearance might mean putting herself in danger.
The front doorbell rang, the sound making her jump. As she went to answer it, she picked up the poker from the fireplace. Just in case. It crossed her mind the visitor might be Ed. She wouldn’t put it past him to drive over and check up on her. But when she opened her front door, it wasn’t Ed standing on the doorstep looking at her expectantly.
‘Dee?’
A woman Dee had never seen before, yet she knew immediately who she was. A series of images played through her head, some real and some imagined. Annie Holden, smiling shyly when Dee complimented her paintings. Two little girls playing together on a beach in the west of Ireland on a hot summer’s afternoon. Dee’s father, his face shutting down each time she asked him about his family in Ireland. Kitty Doran and Lucy Ryan, two little girls caught in the middle of something too big for either of them.
‘It’s me,’ the woman said. ‘Emer. Can I come in?’
Thirty
Sunlight streaming through the windows woke Emer up. She put her hand over her face, trying to block out the light, but there was too much of it. Groaning, she rolled onto her side and cracked her eyes open just enough to make out her surroundings. That’s when she saw the view. Eyes wide open now, she got out of the bed and wandered across to the window. On the other side of the glass, a sweeping expanse of clear blue sky, a sea as flat and still as a plate of glass, a shingle beach of grey and white stones polished and bright beneath the morning sun.
Before You Were Gone Page 17