Finally we pulled into the station at Bournemouth. When I went outside to find a taxi the rain of the past weeks had stopped; an anemic sun hung uncertainly in the pale blue sky.
The Williams’ house was a semidetached brick two story, identical to all the other houses on the street. Each one had a small parking area in front, and a glossy white Volvo sat in front of number 26. The curtains were drawn. I hesitated before ringing the bell. This seemed like a huge intrusion on a grieving family, but now I’d come this far, I had to go through with it. I rang and waited. A curtain moved at a window. A man in his fifties with grey hair and glasses opened the front door.
“Yes?”
“I’m Kate, Rebecca’s friend. I’m so sorry to disturb you…” I didn’t finish my sentence before he stepped aside and waved me in. “Come in, come in. Rebecca talked about you when she visited us last weekend. She seemed excited that you two had reconnected. Please, take a seat. I’m Terry, by the way.”
He gestured towards the sofa. The living room was crowded with a large floral sofa and several armchairs. A huge flat panel television in one corner seemed out of place amidst the slightly shabby furniture.
“I’ll get Janice,” Terry said. “She’ll want to meet you.”
He disappeared for a few minutes; I looked around the room. Photos of Rebecca and her brother filled the surfaces of several side tables. My throat started to close up, just thinking of the parents, bereaved twice.
When Rebecca’s mother came in, I stood up to shake her hand. Her eyes were puffy, and her grey curls were dishevelled. I wondered if she’d once had red hair like her daughter.
“Put the kettle on, dear,” she said to her husband, who obediently disappeared again.
Janice sat down and patted the cushion next to her. I sat next to her, unsure what to say. All the words I’d rehearsed on the train down dissipated like ash in the cold light of such grief. “I’m so sorry,” I managed finally. She bowed her head. Tears dripped onto her tan slacks, leaving dark spots on the fabric. Unsure, I put my hand over hers. We sat in silence until Terry came back with a tray of china cups and a teapot with pink flowers on it.
“Thank you for seeing me,” I said. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am, and to see if there is anything I can do to help.”
“You were the one that found her, weren’t you?” Janice asked.
“Yes, and Nick, her neighbor. Have you met him?”
No,” said Terry. “She moved into that new flat about two years ago, but we never visited. I mean, we would have liked to, but I think Rebecca was too busy. She always said she liked coming here when she had some free time. We’ll have to go up, at some point, I suppose, to get her things, but the police said we have to wait a bit longer.”
“We are so proud of her,” said Janice, holding a handkerchief to her eyes. “She got such a good job. She bought that television for us, you know.” She pointed at the big TV, like a black hole in the flowered wallpaper.
“And the car,” added Terry. “The old Rover I’d had for years just about fell apart, and she insisted on getting us a new one. She said it was her way of repaying us for putting her through college.”
I nodded and sipped my tea. The visit had already answered one question, which was whether Rebecca came from a wealthy family, one that could subsidize the rent on her luxury apartment.
“Did you meet her boyfriend?” I asked. “Did she ever bring him down here?”
They looked at each other, Janice lifting a shoulder in a faint shrug.
“No, we didn’t. I got the feeling we weren’t good enough for him, if you know what I mean? We put out the invitation, but he never came. And then last weekend she said she was going to break up with him.”
“Break up with Edward?”
“Yes. In fact, that’s when she talked about you, dear. She said she’d started thinking about her relationship and decided it wasn’t right for her. She said she wanted to be more like you, although, to be honest, I wasn’t sure what that meant.”
I didn’t know what it meant either.
“So Rebecca was here last weekend?” I asked.
“Yes, she came home on Friday night,” Janice said. “She stayed the night and went back on Saturday morning. I thought she seemed a bit distracted, didn’t you, Terry? I wanted her to stay longer, but she said she had to get back. I never imagined it would be the last time I’d see her…” Janice’s words tailed off.
“Did she ever tell you Edward’s second name?” I asked. “Or show you a photo?”
“No. We didn’t talk about him much when she came down,” Terry said. “I think she was just being independent, you know, keeping her London life and home life separate. She lived in a way that we couldn’t really imagine, in the city, all those nice clothes she started wearing. It was very different from what we’re used to.”
“Designer bags,” added Janice. “She was obsessed with designer handbags. She gave me a couple that she said she didn’t like any more, but I can’t use them. Would you like them, Kate?”
“Thank you, but I really…. ”
“Never mind the bags, Janice,” said Terry. “More tea, Kate?”
“No, thank you. May I ask when the funeral will be?” I asked. “I know some of Rebecca’s work colleagues would like to attend. And I’ll be there, of course.”
Terry looked at Janice before answering. “We don’t have a date yet, lass. The police haven’t released the body from the autopsy.”
Janice began to sob loudly.
“Sorry, love. But that’s the fact. Until then, we can’t plan anything.”
“Why did they need to do an autopsy?” wailed Janice. “Cutting her up like that. It’s cruel.”
“Best not to think about it,” said Terry.
“It’s quite normal,” I said, trying to soothe Janice. “When my grandfather died in a nursing home a couple of years ago, they needed to do an autopsy just to verify cause of death. I’m sure it won’t take long.”
I wondered what the delay could be.
“Have you talked to Inspector Clarke?” I asked.
Terry nodded. “Just on the phone a couple of times. Seems like a nice enough young man. A bit cold and professional in my opinion, but I suppose that’s the way it is. He’s just doing his job. He said they were doing a toxicology assessment, because it seemed that Rebecca had been drinking at the time of the accident.”
“Rubbish,” said Janice. “She never drank enough to be drunk or incapable. She was a dancer, you know,” she said, looking at me.
“I know,” I said. “And a good one. I watched her dance in college.”
“Well, she looked after her health and her figure,” continued Janice. “She disapproved of drinking too much. It’s ridiculous that the police think she was drunk enough to fall over her own coffee table.”
Toxicology assessment, I thought. Clarke hadn’t mentioned that. In the long silence that followed, I tried to think of something to say.
“Nick is looking after Caspian,” I managed, finally. “I was wondering if that’s all right with you? I’m sure we could get him down here if you wanted him?”
Janice stood up and moved slowly to the other side of the room, where she picked up a photo in a silver frame. “Rebecca sent us this just a month or so ago.”
It was a shot of Rebecca holding Caspian, his grey fur contrasting with her mass of red hair. “He’s a good-looking animal,” commented Terry. “But Janice is allergic to cats. I don’t think we can take him.”
“That’s all right. I’ll let Nick know. I’m sure he’ll be happy to keep him.”
For as long as Nick is alive, I thought.
We sat quietly in the gathering gloom. Through the window, I saw dark clouds move across the sky, deleting all the blue, erasing the sun as though it had never existed.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
On Monday morning, Alan called out to me when I walked past his office. With a surge of relief, I saw that the moving air over
his head had disappeared. Whatever danger he had faced was gone, and he, completely oblivious, was his usual cantankerous self, demanding to see my drawings without even saying good morning. I was glad that his plans had changed through no intervention of my own; it meant that events could alter a person’s fate without him even knowing.
That made me wonder if I’d ever had an aura. Had there been a time when I’d avoided a fatal encounter and not even realized it?
“Good,” Alan said, once he’d skimmed the papers I gave him. That was high praise from him, and I hurried out of his office before he could say anything else. Downstairs, Josh was already at his desk. He waved me over when he saw me. For a brief instant, I imagined a discreet hug or a kiss, but his words quickly burst that bubble.
“You had a busy weekend,” he said. I wondered what he meant.
“Oh, the glass panels?” I asked finally.
“You didn’t mention those to me or Ben,” he said, unrolling some blueprints and spreading them on his desk. “Alan just told me about them this morning. He said he couldn’t wait to see what you’d come up with.”
“The idea just popped into my head,” I said.
“So you called Alan to share it?” he asked, eyebrows raised. We were supposed to be collaborating on the project and this looked as though I was going over Josh’s head to the boss.
“I called him because of the aura and I thought he was in danger,” I whispered, although there was no one else around. “Then when I got through to him, I had to come up with a reason, so I invented one.”
I flopped down in the visitor chair, angry at having to justify myself, but understanding why Josh was upset. He leaned forward, elbows on the desk between us.
“The aura thing,” he said. “It doesn’t seem to be working, because Alan is fine as far as I can see.”
“His aura has gone. He didn’t race; that must have been where the danger lay. He had to go home because his son was hurt. So the risk passed, and the aura went away.”
“If it was ever there.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked, feeling the heat rising into my cheeks. “Of course it was there. I saw it.”
“You saw it. No one else can see it. You must admit it’s a bit hard to believe. It comes, it goes, and only you know about it.”
I stood up, feeling my knees tremble. I hated conflict with anyone, and most especially with Josh, but he was being unreasonable.
“You can’t see gravity, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist,” I said, and stalked out of the room.
I went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, irritated to see that my hand was shaking. I leaned against the counter to drink my coffee, feeling my heart rate gradually slow down. Jack came into the kitchen, wearing a red bow tie.
“How are you, my dear?” he asked.
“I’m fine, thanks,” I said, getting an extra mug from the cabinet. “How was Silverstone? Did you enjoy it?”
“Fantastic. I’ve never gone that fast on two wheels before. What an experience! Alan really didn’t know what he was missing.”
“I bet he didn’t,” I said, thinking that neither of them had any idea what the day at the racetrack might have been like.
“I thought you were supposed to be going to Edinburgh,” I said, handing him a cup of tea. He rarely drank coffee.
“Tomorrow,” he said. “I just have a few things to clear up here today. How are things with you?”
“We’re busy with the Montgomery project,” I said. “We have another meeting today even though….” I trailed off. I’d been surprised that it was all business as usual with the Montgomery Group in spite of Rebecca’s death.
“Ah yes,” said Jack. “Sad, very sad. Miss Williams was an intelligent young woman.”
“I didn’t realize you’d met her?”
Jack pursed his lips. “I meet all our clients, Kate. I handle the contracts and the money. Boring stuff, compared to the real work that goes on here, I know. But someone has to do it. And this project is a big one, even by our standards. Lots of paperwork.”
He stirred two sugars into his tea before dumping the spoon in the sink. “Alan told me that you were the one who found Miss Williams? You were friends?”
“Yes. We were friends in college, lost touch and met up when she came to a Montgomery project meeting. I was enjoying getting to know her again…”
“Yes, Alan mentioned to me this morning that you’d been spending time together. When did you last see her?”
“Sunday lunchtime. We were supposed to be going out to see a movie on Sunday evening, but something came up, so we had lunch instead. I had no idea that I’d never seen her again.”
He tore off some kitchen towel and gave it to me.
“It’s too bad she cancelled on you. Did she say why?”
I shook my head, blotting my eyes and cheeks, trying not to smear my mascara. “I think she was seeing her boyfriend.”
Jack nodded. “Well, love takes precedence, I suppose. I’m sorry, Kate. This must all be very hard on you.” He glanced at his watch. “I shouldn’t keep you from your work. I’ll bring you some Edinburgh rock back. Look after yourself.”
I carried my coffee to my desk, hearing snippets of the usual morning conversations floating in from the hallway. I turned on my computer, pulled my panel designs from my briefcase and spread them out on the desk. But I was too distracted to work.
The significance of what had happened with Alan gradually sank into my brain. It meant that even though auras presaged death, something could happen to avert the danger, whatever it was. With growing panic, I realized that, if it was possible to change the outcome, then the burden on me to warn or assist was huge. I wasn’t just a bystander, seeing auras with no chance of saving anyone. I could intervene. I had to. My headache bloomed, pushing against my temples with sickening intensity. How could I save Nick?
I felt like screaming. I had no idea what might cause his premature death. An accident? Illness? There were so many ways to die; I couldn’t be his bodyguard.
He answered when I called, although the connection was faint and crackly.
“Nick, it’s Kate.”
“Hi Kate. I’m in an elevator. Bad line. Everything okay?”
“Yes, yes,” I said, relieved to hear his voice. “Er, I was just wondering how Caspian’s doing?”
There was a pause and then. “He’s fine.”
“Good. Just wanted to let you know that Rebecca’s parents are hoping you’ll keep him.”
“Of course. I love the little chap.”
“Great. Well, I’ll let you go. Have a good day.”
The line crackled and faded “…bye.”
Feeling like an idiot, I put my phone away, and stared at the printouts on my desk. What was I supposed to do about Nick? I couldn’t let him die, but I hardly knew him and it would be impossible to watch over him. What I could do was warn him, tell him about the aura, explain what it meant. I’d have to see him in person. I sent him a text, asking if we could meet for a drink after work.
I gazed at the screensaver on my computer, a photo of my Dad’s house in Tuscany, a beautiful yellow stucco villa surrounded by colorful gardens and dark green cypress trees. Leo had texted me earlier to say that Francesca’s funeral had been well attended, Dad was doing pretty well, and Paolo was keeping him company. I missed them all. I wished I was there with them.
After finishing what I needed to do for the meeting, I walked to the conference room, hoping I might have a chance to chat with Josh, but he arrived with Alan just seconds before the Montgomery team came in.
Soon, the conference room was crowded, full of stale air and an undercurrent of despondency, at least on the Bradley Cohen side. Montgomery behaved as usual, asking questions, checking that his assistants were taking notes, and occasionally looking at his cell phone and sending texts. I wondered if he felt guilty about his lack of concern when Rebecca first no-showed for work, but no one talked about her, and there wa
s no empty chair at the table. Alan had brought in Laura and Jim for extra input.
As soon as the meeting drew to a close, I gathered up my sketches and pens, and followed Montgomery to the elevator.
“Mr. Montgomery?”
He swung around. “Yes?”
“I was friends with Rebecca. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. There’s no date for the funeral yet, but I could let you know when I hear something.”
“Why would I need to know that?” he asked, jabbing at the elevator button.
“I thought you would want to go,” I said, surprised by his attitude. “Or at least perhaps some of her colleagues would.”
His shoulders seemed to relax. “Of course, of course,” he said. “Please let me know what you find out. I remember now that Rebecca mentioned you two were friends. Very sad. She was a valued asset.”
Valued asset? It sounded cold. I wondered what Alan would say about me.
“Do you have a card?” Montgomery asked. “I’m sure we all exchanged cards at our first meeting, but here’s mine. Feel free to call me if you need anything.”
I fumbled in my purse for my wallet, where I always kept a few business cards, but couldn’t find one.
“Here,” he said, handing me a second card of his own. “Write your cell number on this.” He took it back, looked at my number scrawled on it. “That way we can coordinate for the funeral.”
When the elevator arrived, he got in. “You coming?”
I shook my head. I was shocked by his indifference to Rebecca’s death and didn’t want to talk to him more than necessary. I took the stairs.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My cell phone rang just as I reached the bottom stair; I moved to a quieter corner of the lobby to take the call. It was Inspector Clarke. He began with an apology.
“Sorry it took me so long to get back to you,” he said. “Do you have time to grab a coffee?”
After agreeing to meet at a small cafe just a few blocks away, I hurried back upstairs to get my coat and scarf. I had a sinking feeling that I was pushing Alan to the limit by leaving the office yet again. Clarke was already at a table when I got there.
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