Close Your Eyes

by Rachel Abbott

  I feel as if my legs are about to fold under me, just as I felt in the days after she had gone, when I was too scared to look anyone in the eye in case they could see into my soul, to the black guilt at its core.

  Poor Leah. She didn’t deserve to die.

  Moments later Mum is back, clutching a large clear polythene bag. I can see what looks like a T-shirt and some light-coloured linen trousers inside. Both are covered in blood. At the bottom, weighing heavily against the plastic, is a long thin-bladed knife. Aram’s evidence. She throws it on the table.

  I lift my eyes to look at her. She’s watching me, saying nothing. I wish I knew what she was thinking.

  I’ve no idea what’s going to happen next. Is Aram going to hand these clothes over to the police?

  To my surprise he walks across to the intercom and presses the button to open the gates. He could have waited until the police had a warrant, but he doesn’t want them in the house. If he gives them what they have come for – me – they will have no reason to step over the threshold. He turns to give me a look of such ferocity that it seems to pierce my skin.

  ‘You’ve brought this on us, India,’ he says finally, his voice brittle with anger. ‘Why are the police here?’

  I debate whether or not to lie to him, but there’s little point. He holds all the cards. ‘A woman I knew was murdered.’

  For a moment he looks shocked, and I realise he thinks I mean Leah. I don’t enlighten him. Then he realises he has to be wrong. They said they were from Manchester.

  ‘Did you kill her?’ he asks.

  I don’t answer. It has nothing to do with him.

  ‘Do you think evidence of a previous murder might make your conviction more likely?’

  I shiver and glance at the bag on the table. ‘If you’ve hidden them for years, that makes you an accessory.’

  He just smiles. ‘Oh no, India. This is the first time I’ve seen them. You came back for them, to destroy them, didn’t you? They will see my shock, my horror at what you did. Nicola will back me up – you know she will.’

  Any thoughts I had of trying to talk to the police about what happened here all those years ago are now gone.

  I have no chance to say any more. There is a knock at the front door. They are here.

  ‘Stay here,’ he tells me.

  I don’t know why he thinks I would obey him. Maybe because I always have, but with a last glance at Mum, who looks as if she’s been cast adrift with no idea where she’s heading, I follow him through the kitchen door.

  There’s another knock, this time louder. I keep to the shadows as he opens the front door.

  I can hear talking, but I can’t make out the words. I know what I must do.

  I take a step into the hall. A tall man in shirtsleeves, rolled to just below the elbow, stands in the open doorway, his feet apart. A woman with auburn hair is by his side. They are both looking up at Aram, who stands one step above them, barring their entry.

  Without a backward glance, I emerge from the gloom and head for the door, my eyes on the policeman. From the corner of my eye, I see Aram turn and look at me, but I avoid his gaze. I focus on the police.

  My heart is pounding, my mouth dry, and my throat aches with constant swallowing. I don’t know what evidence they have that I killed Genevieve, but I know, should he wish to produce it, that Aram believes he has indisputable evidence that I killed Leah.

  Tom looked at the raised chin, the eyes staring straight ahead. Martha was finding it to hold herself together. He could see the fear lurking behind the determination in her brown eyes.

  She walked out through the front door and turned to grasp the huge brass handle. She didn’t look at Aram Forakis, but appeared to focus on a spot above his head. Finally, he took a step back, and she pulled the door closed behind her.

  ‘I was planning to come to you voluntarily,’ she said, her voice steady. ‘But first I had to see my mother. I’m sorry you had to come here for me.’

  ‘Martha Porter,’ Tom said, ‘I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Genevieve Strachan. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  He watched the young woman closely. There was something else going on. Tom could feel it. She hadn’t looked at Aram Forakis, and yet he had never taken his eyes from her. Whatever she’d done, Tom could only imagine the childhood Martha must have had growing up with this man, and he felt a flash of sympathy for her.

  67

  MARTHA

  I understand why the police want to question me about Genevieve. By now they will know about our argument. Elise will have told them about the party and how Niall has avoided being alone with me ever since. But is that enough to suspect me of her murder? They must have something more, although I have no idea what that can be. I grasp my hands tightly together in an effort to stop them shaking.

  Maybe it’s because I ran. I evaded them, using every trick I had. Will they understand that I had no choice, that fear for my son and the need to keep him away from his father is what motivated me? With Genevieve dead I’d had visions of the press gathering at the entrance to XO-Tech, trying to catch the staff unawares, taking photographs for their papers or their online newsfeeds – including, very possibly, a picture of me for the world to see. The world including Aram.

  Since my escape from Lakeside I have always assumed I would be listed on the police database as missing and vulnerable, although it seems I was wrong. I was even more terrified that Leah’s body had been found in the years since I left and that I was wanted for her murder. It seems I was wrong about that too. Aram must have always had a different ending in mind for me.

  As the detectives drive me towards the gates of Lakeside I look to my left, to a small copse of trees by the river, the spot where I was due to meet Leah that night, and from where we would have made our escape, had I not betrayed her. I swallow hard. Is that where she is?

  I remember the moment I heard her scream, the second at which the full force of my treachery hit me, and I tore back down the path towards her.

  I was too late.

  She was lying on the ground in the mud. There was barely any light, but what little there was glinted on the knife sticking out of her body.

  I cried out, and Aram grabbed me. I pushed him away and fell to my knees, pulling the knife from her. Thick red blood was pumping from her body. She was still alive, and I tried to stem the flow. But then it stopped, and I knew she was dead.

  ‘No! Why, Aram? Why did you have to do this?’

  ‘She was a traitor, India. She would have ruined our lives.’ I shivered and heard myself moan quietly. ‘You did what you had to,’ he said. ‘You had no choice.’

  I was still holding the knife, and Leah wasn’t moving. I should have known he could never let her leave.

  Aram spoke again. ‘No one will ever know. You need to go, India. Strip off your clothes, put them in a bag and give them to me later. I’ll take care of them. Go now.’ He paused. ‘Now!’

  Still grasping the knife, I ran, pushing through the trees, onto the path. I looked down at my hand, at the knife, and threw it as hard as I could towards the water. I heard it hit stone, but I didn’t stop. Aram told me later that he’d found the knife and kept it safe.

  Mum was still there, standing silently by the path. I saw her.

  Leah’s blood is on my hands. I should have screamed out loud to the whole community that Aram had killed my friend, but I was shocked, scared and totally under his control. Had I told anyone, he would have shown compassion and understanding, saying I was fantasising – that I was distraught because Leah had left without telling me, and everyone would have believed him. And the only evidence of her murder – as far as I knew – pointed to me. To my shame, I said nothing. Had I gone to the police after I escaped, Aram still had the evidence, and he wouldn’t have hesitated to use it.

&nb
sp; This is my chance to tell the truth, but I know I won’t take it because the police are unlikely to believe me. They have just arrested me for murder. They think I killed Genevieve.

  I clamp my lips together to stop myself from crying out as I try to convince myself that they can’t have any proof.

  But they wouldn’t have arrested me unless they believe I’m guilty.

  68

  Tom and Becky took their seats to watch the interview through the monitors as Rob and Jenny entered the room. They introduced themselves to Martha, and as they completed the formalities Tom turned to Becky. ‘What did you make of Aram Forakis?’

  ‘Bit full of himself, wasn’t he?’

  Tom smiled but said nothing. Becky had the best nose for bullshit of anyone he knew. He turned back to the monitor as Rob asked once again if Martha was sure she didn’t want a solicitor.

  ‘I’m quite sure, thank you.’

  ‘Okay. Maybe you could start by telling us about your movements from when you left work on Monday afternoon until you arrived back there on Tuesday morning,’ Rob said.

  ‘I walked to Alfie’s childminder, picked up my son, walked home. We were home by five thirty, and I didn’t leave the house until eight thirty the next morning. We ate together, I bathed him, put him to bed, read him a story, and then read a book myself until bedtime.’

  ‘At any point during those hours did you leave the house?’

  ‘No. I wouldn’t leave my son on his own.’

  ‘Do you know where the Tyldesley Loopline is?’ Jenny asked, changing tack completely to see if it threw Martha.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re not aware that it’s a path that runs directly behind Genevieve Strachan’s home?’

  ‘I’ve never been to their home. I know it’s in Worsley, and I understand from Elise that it’s lovely. I think she used the word “lush”.’

  Tom glanced at Becky. There was no doubt that Elise’s antipathy towards Martha was reciprocated.

  ‘You’ve never walked along there, or cycled?’

  ‘I don’t have a bike, and as I said, I don’t know where it is.’

  ‘You mentioned Elise earlier. That would be Elise Chapman, would it?’

  ‘Yes. She works at XO-Tech too.’

  ‘Miss Chapman tells us there was an argument between you and Mrs Strachan a few days before she died. Can you tell us about that, please?’

  Rob’s manner was calm, but Tom could see that beneath Martha’s apparent composure she was agitated. The camera captured her hands in her lap, and she was pulling on her fingers one by one, right hand first and then left.

  ‘She wanted information about the company that I didn’t think it was my place to share. I told her to ask her husband.’

  ‘What information?’

  ‘She wanted me to tell her the basis of the deal her husband was negotiating to raise extra funds. She said she had a right to know what the company – and therefore her husband – was worth.’

  Rob rested his forearms on the table and leaned forward slightly.

  ‘And you knew?’

  ‘Yes. I prepared the paperwork, but I wouldn’t share that information with anyone. She said she was a director and shareholder of the company, so it was my job to tell her. She was neither, and I can’t imagine why she would think I didn’t know she was lying.’

  ‘You didn’t like Genevieve much, did you, Miss Porter?’

  ‘I didn’t have any feelings about her one way or the other.’

  Jenny leaned forward. ‘In spite of the fact that you wanted her husband for yourself?’

  Tom watched Martha’s response. There was a flash of anger in her eyes, but her voice remained calm.

  ‘I had no interest in Niall. If this is about the party and Elise telling the world that I made a pass at him which he rejected, that’s total nonsense. He came on to me, and I was appalled.’

  Jenny didn’t give up. ‘So why did he avoid being in a room with you alone after that? Everyone noticed.’

  Martha sighed. ‘I’d turned him down. People knew something had happened, so he had to make it look as if I was doing the chasing and he didn’t feel comfortable around me. It was childish nonsense, and I chose to ignore it. I wanted to keep my job, despite his behaviour.’

  Jenny pulled a piece of paper from a file and pushed it across the table. ‘Can you explain to me why you would send him a message telling him how much you wanted to be with him, and how you would be so much better for him than Genevieve?’

  Martha frowned and leaned forward to read the paper without touching it. Finally she flopped back in her chair, looking for a moment as if all the fight had gone out of her. ‘I didn’t send that. I don’t have a Gmail account and I have no interest in Niall Strachan other than as my boss. It’s malicious nonsense.’

  ‘Can you think of anyone else who might have sent it, posing as you?’

  Martha shook her head slowly. ‘Elise, maybe? She’s not my greatest fan. I know she’d be thrilled if Niall were interested in her, but I’m not sure she’s smart enough to do this. We work for a tech company, though, and those guys can predict every move we make through their app, which I find spooky and uncomfortable but clever nonetheless. Setting up a Gmail account wouldn’t exactly tax their skills.’

  The more Tom saw of Martha Porter, the more he was inclined to believe her. There was nothing about her demeanour that suggested she would try her luck with a man, uninvited. She was withdrawn, tightly held together, and he couldn’t see her exposing her weaknesses to anyone, let alone her boss.

  ‘You mention your phone. Where was your company mobile during the hours of Monday night?’

  ‘It was with me. We’re supposed to have our phones on all the time so the app can record our actions and predict our next moves. I refused. I didn’t want them to know where I live, let alone give them the ability to switch on some audio device so they can detect what I’m watching on television. I switch it on as I enter the office each morning – it flags up on the system when someone enters or leaves the building – then I switch it off and stick it in my drawer for the rest of the day – then on again when I leave – but only for a few minutes. Then it’s off for the rest of the night.’

  ‘And the phone was with you that night, when you were alone apart from Alfie, in your home?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So how do you explain, Miss Porter, that your phone was used to contact Genevieve Strachan on Monday night, to lure her from her home to where she was stabbed to death?’

  Martha narrowed her eyes and stared at Rob. When she spoke, her voice was so quiet Tom could barely hear her. ‘I can’t.’

  At that moment Becky’s phone vibrated on the table in front of them. She picked it up and left the room.

  During the minutes that she was gone Tom watched and listened as Rob and Jenny questioned Martha from every angle about her phone, about the fact that Genevieve’s iMessage records showed the number of the phone that called her, and that it was irrefutably Martha’s phone. But nothing shook her. She simply denied she had anything to do with it.

  Becky quietly let herself back into the room and dropped into her chair as Tom glanced at her. He didn’t want to miss anything that was being said in the interview, but Becky was frowning.

  ‘What’s up?’ he asked.

  ‘Kirsten called – Eddie’s wife. She expanded on what she’d told him before. Genevieve was going to leave Niall and was planning on taking him to the cleaners. She told Kirsten she was going to get what was owing to her – half of everything, including the business – and after that she wanted a good time. Niall was boring – always working, obsessed with his new app. She’d contacted Eddie because he was the best at getting into the flashiest parties – or at least he had been – and while she was disappointed that he was married, he’d never been renowned for his faithfulness, so she thought he’d be up for it. Kirsten had given her a mouthful and left. We know Kirsten’s telling the truth about where she met Ge
nevieve. We have photo evidence from the so-called friend, and it checks out with the location data that Niall gave us.’

  Tom felt strangely unsurprised by any of this. Everything they’d heard about Genevieve suggested she was only interested in one thing – the position of Genevieve Strachan in her own little world. And it also tied in with what Martha had said about the argument in her office. Genevieve was trying to work out how much she was likely to get.

  Although he had never run a business himself, Tom knew enough to understand that the paper value of a company was very different to how much money there was in the bank, and if Genevieve had demanded half the perceived value of the business, Niall would have had to sell a further chunk of his shareholding to raise the cash to pay her off.

  At that moment Tom’s phone buzzed.

  Speaking quietly so Becky could continue to listen to the ongoing interview, he answered: ‘Yes, Keith.’

  ‘Sir, something has come to light. Something that I think might change everything.’

  69

  Tom left the room to take Keith’s call, leaving Becky to continue observing the interview.

  ‘Tell me, Keith.’

  ‘It’s quite technical, and I may not be the best person to explain this. But I can hand you over to someone else if you have questions when I’ve finished.’

  ‘Just do your best.’

  ‘Do you remember when the telecoms team told us that Martha’s company phone had never been used?’

  ‘Yes. No texts, no calls. I remember.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t only that, sir. She hadn’t used any mobile data either – you know, 4G or whatever.’

  ‘You mean to log on to the Internet?’

  ‘Not only that, she hadn’t used mobile data for anything at all. We know the message to Genevieve asking her to come outside was an iMessage, so it could only have been sent either by mobile data or WiFi. The telecoms team have confirmed that it definitely wasn’t sent via mobile data.’