by Rachael Blok
Holding her sister’s hand, Ana whispers, ‘Is that true, Mais? Did you find it out for tonight?’
‘Probably a complete pile of shit,’ Maisie says, grinning through her tears, wiping them with the back of her hand. ‘But I like the sound of it.’
Ana throws her flower and it lands on the dry earth, petals falling to the side, splayed. ‘Bye, Leo,’ she whispers.
Sitting on the rug, stretching out, Maisie passes her a glass of wine. It’s warm, slipping easily down her throat.
‘I smelt booze on you when you got in today,’ Maisie says. ‘What were you up to this afternoon?’
Ana smiles. ‘Funny one… I almost got knocked down by a motorbike after a meeting. With the partner for this deal, and I ended up crying all over him and telling him about Jam. He took me for a drink.’
‘A motorbike? Ana, are you OK?’
‘Yes, I was fine. I just dropped my bag. I mustn’t have looked properly. But he was… kind.’
‘Hmm, over and above the call of duty?’ Maisie raises an eyebrow.
‘Oh, I don’t know… I was all over the place. He’s one of the youngest partners at the firm, or something like that. He didn’t freeze when I started to cry – he was… nice.’
‘Nice doesn’t buy you drinks. Nice checks you’re not injured and asks if you need a taxi somewhere. Ulterior motive. Your time pays his wages – is he fit?’
Ana shrugs, offering her glass for a top-up.
‘Do you fancy him?’ Maisie asks.
‘I don’t think I fancy people any more. I’m dead inside,’ Ana says, deadpan, then laughs and chokes on her wine. She gasps for air as wine sprays down her nose, and Maisie slaps her back hard. ‘Ow! I’m coughing! I haven’t swallowed a grape!’
They laugh, falling back on the rug, and Ana feels her sides hurt, like she might snap a rib. She hasn’t laughed like this since…
When they quieten, the wine is almost gone.
‘Not even a little bit?’ Maisie says. ‘Not even a glance into his eyes, and a mild stomach flutter?’
‘Maybe a tiny flutter,’ Ana concedes. ‘He is very fit.’
‘To Leo.’ Maisie raises her glass, the last of the wine swilling at the bottom, sediment black in the moonlight.
‘To Leo,’ Ana echoes.
They sit for a moment. Ana can hear the sound of crickets, something rustling in the grass of the field; a light wind passes over the temple. The candles flicker against the marble of the nearby headstones.
‘Night, Leo,’ Ana whispers.
34
Wednesday 20th June
MAARTEN
‘What?’
Sitting suddenly, Maarten grabs his pen and starts scribbling.
‘Can you say it again? Give me all the details.’ He scratches out the information, mutters a thanks and moves quickly into the open-plan office. His tread is quick and heavy. Heads turn as he enters at speed.
‘Meeting!’
Maarten hands the pen to Adrika – no one has ever been able to read his writing. He sits on the edge of a desk by the window. His tone announces the excitement of his news before he speaks.
‘I’ve just had a call from Peckham. A payment was declined this morning. The name on the account is Leo Fenton. Our Leo Fenton. The attempt at payment was made from a mobile phone, linked to his credit card. The card is no longer active, but someone has tried to use it.’
‘Does that mean he’s alive?’ Sunny asks.
The team mutter. Adrika writes furiously on the board, holding the notes Maarten has passed her. Maarten waits for them to settle.
Adrika glances at him. ‘Did they detain the person?’
‘No. The card machine asked the retailer to keep the card, but as it was a phone they let the customer go. They were gone by the time it triggered on the police watch. Can you send someone to look over CCTV? Get a description?’
Adrika nods, staring at the board as though secrets may unearth and leap out.
The muttering has slowed.
‘It’s a bit…’ Sunny doesn’t finish.
‘Convenient?’ Maarten offers. ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’
‘If he is alive, then… Well, who is the skeleton? Have we got an ID back yet?’ Adrika asks.
Sunny shakes his head. ‘No, not yet. Robyn is trying for a bone marrow sample, but it’s taking a while; it’s all they’ve got at the moment. If we can find the location where the body has been stored then it gets easier. Medical records have been retrieved and checked, and they’re cross-checking with a broken bone. They think they’ll have more of an idea tomorrow, or in a few days.’
‘If he’s alive. This is the big question. If he’s alive, then who is dead? If he’s not alive, then who is pretending that he is? And why? Why? Why to all of this – none of this is making sense. Sunny, when that report comes in, can you read it and take the details? And I think our warrant on the Seabrook house must have come through. Can you organise a sweep, and get Ana Seabrook’s phone?’
The muttering has started up again. Maarten glances at Adrika and asks, ‘Anything else?’
‘No, not from me. I need to process this. Give me ten minutes to run through a few things. I’ll come to your office?’
‘Good plan. Thanks, everybody.’
Maarten leaves Adrika to assign tasks and heads back to his office. He glances out of the window. The sun is reflecting off the car windows as they pass. They flash like lights. It’s impossible to see the faces of the drivers.
The sun hangs a haze over things. A film.
What had he said the other week – what had his hunch been? The car crash has distracted him. He’s had other things to think about. He’s normally more focused. Flicking through his notes, he finds what he’s looking for. The location – the location of the burial. It must be significant. Certainly as important in all this as the body and the killer. Could it lead to both?
Adrika knocks and enters. ‘Where do we go from here?’ she asks, sitting in the chair opposite him.
‘I think we go back to the grave. Let’s go for another look around. I have a feeling we’re missing something we’re meant to see. Can you get Sunny to release some past photos of Leo Fenton? Show them around. The CCTV is likely to be poor.’
Tapping his list, he glances down at the thick black lines that have underscored the question: Graveyard significance?
‘Let’s head over to the Seabrooks’ later, at the end of the search. First,’ he says, ‘let’s see if we can unearth something else.’
35
Wednesday 20th June
BEN
‘Oi, Benny.’ It’s Mr Burke. He calls as Ben is finishing work on the bookcase he’s building. He has a few jobs in prison.
‘Yeah?’ He stands up, pulling his shoulders up and back, soaked in sweat.
‘Heard something you might be interested in. Top secret, like.’
Ben takes a step closer. His release leaps to his mind, making his blood quicken.
‘Only hearsay, so don’t get your hopes up. But I’d want to know if it was me. You’re in here for killing your brother, right?’ Burke is leaning in, and glances round to check no one can hear.
Didn’t kill him, Ben thinks, but he nods.
‘Well, I’ve got a mate who’s a copper in south London. Your brother’s name and photo flashed up in their station this morning. I don’t know much, but something’s triggered it, and they’re doing a Proof of Life. I was telling him about you, after that body was found in that grave and it was in the press. I was telling him you was one of my wards. Think on, eh.’
It’s not that Ben doesn’t have any questions, but he can’t speak: Leo could be alive?
Dizzy, he sits on the bench at the side. There are wood shavings all over it but he doesn’t brush them off. He clutches the lathe, and he can feel his skin prick, but he doesn’t look at it. If Leo’s alive, and he can really talk to him again? Go sailing… They’d let him out for sure. It would be like a bad dream – could this
all really just lift?
‘I can have an ask around if you like.’ Burke is still there, glancing at the floor. Swings his keys.
‘Could you? That’d be—’
‘Cost you, though.’
Ben stops. Takes a breath.
‘Cost me?’ he says.
‘Yeah, not your money, Benny. You can keep that. But you’re looking to get out soon if all this proves right. And we’re a bit stuck at the moment. Macca, he’s getting a lot of supplies in right now, and we’re not sure where it’s coming from. I’m not asking for much. But if I ask about your brother, could you keep your eyes open? Let me know if there’s something I need to know?’ He pauses, scratches the back of his neck. ‘Someone I need to know?’
Ben finds himself nodding. Grassing in here is a death sentence. But he can agree to look. He doesn’t need to say anything to Burke.
He needs to find a way out of here.
‘Catch you later.’ Burke walks off, fluting a low whistle.
They had held a memorial for Leo, but by then Ben had been behind bars. Their parents dead, it had only been Ben and Leo for a few years, before it all happened. Ben had sat in his cell the morning of the memorial and ached with the loneliness of Leo hovering over his own service, with no body, no parents, no brother. The loneliness had crept like a cat between the bars of his prison cell and Ben had wept.
The memory lives behind his lids.
That morning, an overpowering stench had assailed him as he woke. He had called out for Leo, but there had been only silence. The tent had been ripped at the top – not enough to drag a man’s body out – and the front of the tent had been flapping. The tent would heat up
in the summer, and usually they woke and unzipped it immediately, so the flapping had not been a surprise. But normally Leo would be nearby – cooking bacon, making coffee, even opening a morning beer. Ben had called a few times as he dragged his eyes open. ‘What’s that fucking awful smell?’ he had shouted, pulling his fleece over his face as it lay next to his side.
But nothing had answered him. And when his eyes had fully woken, and adjusted to the glare of the sun, he had seen the blood.
It had been everywhere.
Even now, when he thinks of that moment panic eats him. ‘Leo! Leo! Where are you? Leo!’
He couldn’t get out of the tent fast enough. His fingers, trembling, unable to work the netting zip. The main door flapping back into his face, catching his eye and making it sting. He had stood up once outside and made to run, but had fallen immediately. Rising again, he had stumbled, and he had screamed as he ran. ‘Leo? Leo! Can someone help me! Can I have some help?’
He misses his brother. He misses his brother with a gnawing ache. If this is Leo, and he finally does manage to get out of here, then maybe they can both finally begin trying to work out what really happened that night.
He hadn’t killed Leo. Had someone else? Or could he really be alive?
It doesn’t feel real and his numbness is creeping back in.
He doesn’t believe in fairy-tale endings, not any more.
36
Wednesday 20th June
ANA
‘Ana!’ The shout is loud up through the house. Getting ready for work, she thinks of the document, about visiting the trial again.
‘What?’ Shaken, she drops her make-up brush and runs, feeling all her nerves jump up at once. ‘Maisie? I’m coming.’ She scrambles across half-packed boxes, trips over old clothes, old books.
Slipping on the stairs, she grabs the rail and sees Maisie at the bottom.
‘What is it?’ she asks. Just looking at Maisie, she can see it’s something. Maisie’s wired.
‘It’s Ben.’
‘What? Has something happened?’ Ana’s breath comes quickly, in gasps.
‘No. Ana, he’s on the phone. He might have news.’
Ana shakes her head. She feels caught out. He’d not called for over a week, and she’d missed the stilted half conversations they have – that are all she has. This last week has been the longest of times.
Gulping back the tears, trying to compose herself, she leans on the wall.
‘Are you OK?’ Maisie asks. ‘I know there’s so much to say right now. Look, Mum’s out front and I’ll give you some space. You can be on your own. Here. Sit. I’ll bring you a tea. I told him you’d be a minute.’
Sitting in the overstuffed armchair, curling her legs under her, the sun hot through the window on the back of her head, Ana picks up the phone receiver.
‘Ben?’
‘Ana…’ his voice cracks. Immediately. She can hear him gulp tears. ‘Ana…’
‘Ben, bloody hell, Ben…’ she cries.
A minute passes. The sun begins to burn her neck. Maisie puts down a mug of tea and vanishes. The empty space that is Jam, in front of the fire grate, catches her eye.
‘Ben… you might be out soon – Ben, I’ve missed you. There’s so much…’
He doesn’t speak but isn’t silent. There are chokes, gulps. She can imagine his face, crumpled. The photo of her and Leo together, smiling, flashes up, and she thinks of whether she’s going to have to tell him. She’s hidden it from him for so long.
She wants to touch him. She wants to reach out and hold him. Be held by him.
‘Ben, did you hear about the body?’
‘Yes. I saw it on the news. And there’s something else.’
‘The knife and the pills? I called Harper.’ Ana is slotting together the Ben she holds in her memory, always the first to dance at a wedding, his insistence at holding a BBQ on Boxing Day, with this tired voice, this new Ben, watching TV in a prison cell.
‘Knife? No, not that.’
‘Oh, did you hear about Jam?’
He stops. ‘Yes… I’m so sorry, Ana. Christ… What’s going on?’
Ana says nothing. She can’t tell him everything.
‘Fuck,’ he says quietly. ‘There’s something else too. I was told today, and I have no idea how true it is, but one of the guards in here told me that Leo might be alive. There has been some evidence.’
‘Alive?’ Ana’s heart beats quickly and she thinks of the text message: Are you missing me?
Can this really be happening? ‘But that’s… That can’t be true! Do you think it’s true? What’s the evidence?’
‘I don’t know anything. That’s why I’m calling. I don’t know who is in charge of the case, but they should know. If my prison guard knows, then the police will know. Can you look into it? Ana— Ana, I’ve been holding on. Barely holding on in here. You have no idea. I’m sorry I’ve kept you away, but I think if I saw you in here…’
‘It’s OK, it might be nearly over. I’ve been thinking about Leo, and the past. I’ve been trying to think of who might be doing this. I’ve raked up all sorts of memories. But I’ve spoken to Harper. And there’s another detective from St Albans who’s in charge now. He’s Dutch. I’ll speak to both of them. I’ll find out what I can.’ She takes a breath. If he says no to this, she thinks she might break, but after hearing his voice, it’s too much… ‘Ben, can I come and see you? Please. Let me come.’
‘Ana…’ There’s noise she can hear. Wherever he is has become busy. Loud male voices hammer down the line, echoing and vibrating. The noise bounces round, like it’s in a steel can. Ben’s voice drops even more. ‘Ana, look, has there been any evidence of Leo? Anything?’
‘I’ve had a text,’ she says. Then she pauses. She hasn’t told the police yet. It might be nothing. She starts immediately to backtrack, changing tone with, ‘But I can’t believe it’s from him.’
‘From his phone? Fuck. They never found his phone. We assumed it had been lost at sea.’ Ben’s voice is dry.
She thinks of Leo, leaning back off the boat, his cap damp from the spray. ‘There’s more. I’ve been seeing someone… at least I think I have. Anyway, the one thing that draws it all together…’ Is it a reach jumping to such a conclusion? ‘Whoever it is always wears a cap.
And I know it’s probably just to cover their face but there’s something…’
‘You think it’s Leo’s cap? You think you’ve seen him?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Ana, you’ve got to be careful – this is serious. There’s a body, there’s a murder. You can’t take any chances with your safety. If someone is pretending to be him…’
‘Please, Ben. Please let me come and see you.’
Another shout in the background. Swearing, laughter and Ben says quickly, ‘I’ll call again soon.’
And then he’s gone. Just like that.
Ana holds the phone, light in her hand. Its whiteness catching the sun that now glares from behind.
She looks at the clock on the mantelpiece – it’s 10.30 a.m.; she has to be out of the house soon.
Her mouth tastes dry. Her lips are sore, and she runs her tongue round them. She hasn’t drunk the tea Maisie brought, and she picks it up, still warm.
The tea spills, and she sees her hands are shaking.
*
Dressed, Ana gets ready to leave. She’d taken longer, called Leith and said she’d work from home for the morning. There’s noise behind her as she finds her phone.
The knock is loud and she curses. There is little time left to get to work.
‘Ana Seabrook?’
She opens the door to an officer she hasn’t seen before. There are three of them, waiting patiently. ‘Yes,’ she says.
‘We have a warrant to search the premises. And we’d like to take your phone. Please…’
Colour drains from Ana’s view. She knows what they will find.
37
Wednesday 20th June
MAARTEN
‘Is it something about the church itself, maybe? Did it reject someone? Refuse burial?’
Maarten shakes his head. The flies are back. These fields, the cows nearby, they pull them in like a magnet.
Adrika is wearing a yellow top. It has very short sleeves and a V-neck and the wasps have made a beeline for it. They hover. She swats them, and they return. He flinches each time they get close to her neckline – one is hovering now, and she’s unaware. He wants to wave it away. His teeth on edge, it flies closer still.