by Jack Jordan
Blake forwarded the footage until the blonde woman appeared from the same spot. She crossed the street, peering cautiously behind her, before reaching the stone steps and making her way down towards the beach. The time stamp in the corner said 16:41. Two minutes behind Naomi.
‘She comes up about an hour and twenty minutes later.’
Naomi hadn’t returned up the steps; she couldn’t find them. She had wandered over a mile down the coast before being found. Marcus thought of her carrying her dog along the beach as night fell, his blood the only thing keeping her warm.
‘Find out who she is, and make a copy of that tape and put it on my desk.’
Blonde woman. What was it Naomi had said? Ex-husband. New girlfriend. Blonde. Josie.
‘Lisa, I have an idea who she might be.’
TWENTY-TWO
Naomi closed the front door behind her and let the silence fill her ears. The house was empty without Max, who would have been panting after his walk and shedding sand across the floorboards. She was all on her own now.
She had tried to clean herself up in the bathroom at the police station, but she had simply moved the sand up and down her body. Flecks of blood lingered on her hands and face, but she couldn’t bring herself to wash it away; it might be all she had left of him.
She stripped off the clothes she had been given at the police station and listened to the sand fall to the floor. She left the garments and her underwear in a heap at the bottom of the stairs and climbed up towards the bathroom.
She turned on the shower above the bath and sat on the edge. Her hands were shaking, but she managed to peel off the bandages and lift herself into the tub. As the spray washed away the sand, the blood, the dried tears stuck to her cheeks, she waited for the pain to stop.
Max is alive. He’ll be okay. You’ll be okay. You have to be.
She sat there until the water ran cold and her fingertips wrinkled. Sand collected around her buttocks and hid beneath her feet.
I can’t deal with this now, she told herself as she stepped out of the bath and dried herself. I’ll face it tomorrow.
She crawled across her unmade bed and pressed the play button on the answering machine.
‘Naomi, it’s Dane. I’m sorry if I—’
‘Message deleted.’
‘Naomi, pick up. I just want to know you’re—’
‘Message deleted.’
‘Naomi, pick up the damn phone. I—’
‘Message deleted.’
‘Hi, darling, it’s Mum. I was just calling to see—’
‘Message deleted. You have no new messages.’
Naomi crawled beneath the sheets and listened to the noises of the empty house. The windows clicked in their frames. Water dripped from the shower head. Her heart kept on beating, even though it had been ripped in two.
Tomorrow. I’ll face it all tomorrow.
TWENTY-THREE
Josie Callaghan was in her mid- to late twenties, younger than Marcus had expected. She sat before Marcus and Lisa with her arms crossed, the usual stance of someone ready to defend themselves. Her skin was decorated with faint freckles that were just visible through her make-up. Even though she was aesthetically beautiful, there was something sour in her eyes.
Marcus and Lisa sat next to each other but with as much distance between them as possible. They had barely talked all morning. Lisa had been in a foul mood ever since the superintendent had heard of the attack on Naomi’s dog and ordered police surveillance to drive past her property every hour for the next few days. She didn’t like to be proved wrong.
Although Marcus was pleased that the superintendent was taking the matter seriously, he hadn’t enjoyed it much either: the sound of the superintendent’s raised voice booming from behind the door of his office had reminded him of all of those sleepless nights as a child, listening to his father berate his mother moments before he hit her, warming up his fists before he came into Marcus’s room, when the real show began. He could still remember the thick skin on his father’s knuckles, hardened over the years to protect the bones beneath. As he and his mother had grown weaker, his father had only grown stronger.
‘Why am I here?’ Josie Callaghan sounded impatient, confident. Something Lisa was likely to rip away.
‘I’m sure you know why,’ Lisa replied.
Josie shrugged.
‘Do you know this woman?’ Lisa slid a photo of Naomi Hannah across the table, a still taken from the CCTV footage that captured her walk to the beach. Recognition sparked in Josie’s face. Marcus noticed the flash in her eyes and a twitch in a muscle beside her mouth, but she swallowed it down.
‘No. Should I?’
‘It’s in your best interest to tell the truth, Josie.’
‘I am.’
‘So you didn’t see her at the beach last night?’
‘No.’
‘What if I told you I could prove that you’re lying?’
Doubt shimmered in her eyes.
‘Well can you?’
‘Do you walk along the beach often? Or did you go there purely to follow Naomi?’
Lisa removed the next CCTV still from the file of Josie walking towards the beach, with the time stamp in the corner showing that they were just two minutes apart. Lisa slid it across the table.
‘How do you know that’s me?’
‘We couldn’t be sure at first,’ Lisa replied. ‘There are plenty of other blonde women in Balkerne Heights. So we looked at CCTV footage closer to your house, and saw you making your way to Naomi’s and then following her down to the beach. Pretty incriminating.’
Josie tightened the knit of her arms across her chest, an unconscious move to make her feel safer. She exhaled sharply and stared into Lisa’s eyes.
‘I live near the beach. Of course I’m going to go down there. That’s the way I walk.’
‘You live quite far from Naomi’s house, though,’ Marcus pointed out.
‘I didn’t always. I like to follow routes I’m familiar with. You should know it’s frightening for a woman to walk alone, especially with what’s happening.’
Marcus didn’t believe Josie was scared of anything.
‘So now you’re telling us you were at the beach last night, when just a moment ago you denied seeing Naomi there?’
Josie hesitated, swallowed until her throat bobbed beneath her skin. Marcus couldn’t look at throats any more without imagining how they would appear sliced open.
‘Shouldn’t I have a solicitor?’
‘If you think you need one, we can get that set up for you, as we mentioned when we got in touch with you. But you didn’t think you had something to hide then. What’s changed?’
Marcus had to commend Lisa for her interrogation skills. Waiting for an assigned lawyer could take days in such a small town. The implication that needing a lawyer was incriminating often led to the suspect waiving their right to prove their innocence.
‘I don’t have anything to hide.’
‘Good. Then we’ll all promise to be honest with each other. My colleague and I will forget that you lied before. Clean slate, okay?’ She smiled briefly, a patronising grin that dropped almost as quickly as it appeared. ‘Why did you follow Naomi down to the beach last night?’
‘I wasn’t following her. I was simply going to the beach.’
‘I thought we promised not to lie to each other,’ Lisa said. ‘We need the facts to rule you out of what happened on the beach last night. You’re helping yourself, not us.’
Marcus had been on the receiving end of Lisa’s glare and knew how Josie would be starting to sweat beneath her clothes.
‘She’s my boyfriend’s ex-wife.’
Lisa stayed quiet, her eyes never leaving Josie’s.
‘They still see each other.’
‘Romantically?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re sure?’
Josie nodded.
‘How do you know?’
‘I just do.’
‘So what, you followed her to beat her up?’
‘Of course not. I followed her to tell her to back off.’
‘And she didn’t.’
‘No … I didn’t get the chance.’
‘You were on that beach for well over an hour, Miss Callaghan. You had plenty of time.’
‘You don’t know how hard it is to build up the courage to tell someone to stay away from the love of your life. She doesn’t deserve him; he’s not hers any more.’
‘Did you go to her house last week?’ Marcus asked. ‘Naomi said someone stood outside her door.’
‘What does that have to do with what happened at the beach?’
So you did go and see her, Marcus thought. You couldn’t summon the courage to speak out, to tell her to back off, so you decided to try again and followed her down to the beach.
‘Following someone like that can be harassment, you’re aware of that?’ he asked.
Josie looked him in the eyes. ‘Charge me with whatever you like. It won’t stick.’
‘So you know what happened on the beach?’ Lisa asked.
‘I saw him, what he did.’
‘He?’
‘He came down the steps on the sea wall and walked towards her. I didn’t see his face.’
He, Marcus thought. Just like Naomi said.
‘I hung back so he wouldn’t see me and watched him approach her and the dog. He blocked her path. I thought he was going to rob her. The dog started barking and Naomi turned around. Then he pushed her down.’
‘What did you do then?’ Lisa asked.
‘I stayed back, started to walk away. I was scared, all right? The dog was attacking the man when I turned and ran.’
‘The dog was stabbed six times, Josie.’
Her eyes widened, but immediately she steeled herself again. Marcus wondered what she had been through herself to learn how to harden so easily.
‘Who would want to hurt Naomi and her dog?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You would, wouldn’t you?’
‘I didn’t.’
‘You mean you didn’t get the chance. Someone else got there before you had time to build up the courage.’
‘It’s not like that.’
‘Isn’t it? You hate her, right? She had her chance with your boyfriend and yet she’s still screwing him. I know I wouldn’t put up with it.’
‘I wanted to talk to her, not hurt her.’
‘But I bet you’ve thought about it.’
Josie went quiet, picked at the skin around her nails.
‘You’ve been through a lot, Josie. No one would blame you for fighting for what’s yours.’
‘Don’t bring her into this,’ Josie said.
Marcus looked between the two women. They knew something he didn’t.
‘Trying to find out who you are, to make a life for yourself … It had to be hard, living in your sister’s shadow. You’ve finally found someone to love, and Naomi threatens to bring it tumbling down. No wonder you want her out of the way.’
‘I told you, this isn’t about Hayley.’
Marcus’s throat dried up. ‘Hayley Miller was your sister?’ he asked. ‘But your surname …’
‘Mum remarried. Is this relevant?’
He had read in Hayley’s missing persons file that she had a sister called Josie, but had failed to connect the two because of the difference in surnames. As the two women continued to talk, he quietly scolded himself for the oversight.
‘Why didn’t you report the attack?’ Lisa asked. ‘Naomi was knocked unconscious as the tide was coming in. She could have drowned. Her dog nearly died.’
Hayley Miller was Josie’s sister.
‘I wasn’t thinking straight. My only thought was getting home, being safe.’
‘But when you got home, when you were safe?’
‘And let Dane figure out why I was down there? I haven’t confronted him yet, I wasn’t going to let him find out that way.’
‘So you left her there to die.’
She sighed deeply and shrugged her shoulders. ‘Karma’s a bitch. That was hers.’
‘Sorry,’ Marcus said and raised his hand. ‘You’re dating a man who was questioned in the disappearance of your sister?’
‘He wasn’t arrested,’ Josie spat.
‘But they had a relationship, didn’t they? Dane and your sister?’
‘My sister fucked half the town. If I tried to avoid every bloke she slept with, I’d still be a virgin. She was a slut. Everyone knew that.’
Marcus looked down, blinked quickly. His head was swimming. Naomi’s ex-husband had dated Hayley, who was Josie’s sister; Marcus’s colleague had been questioned about Hayley’s disappearance before it was covered up, and Naomi’s sister had been Hayley’s best friend. They were all connected to Hayley Miller, who might have died in the same way as Cassie Jennings and Amber O’Neill.
‘I think you’re lying about the attacker on the beach,’ Lisa said.
‘Think what you want. I know what I saw.’
‘Why should we believe you? You didn’t report what you saw to the police, and you lied your way through the first part of this interview. Why should we trust you?’
‘I don’t care what you think. I know what I saw.’
‘Can you prove it?’
She hesitated. ‘No.’ Then her face changed. The confidence seeped back into her eyes. ‘Can you prove that I’m lying?’
‘Actually, I can,’ Lisa said. She got to her feet. Josie shrank in her chair. ‘Stand up, please, Miss Callaghan.’
‘Why?’
‘I need to check your ankles.’
Josie stared at her. ‘What for?’
‘Naomi fought the attacker as best she could. She dug her nails into the person’s ankle, which would have left abrasions.’
Josie smirked, amused by Lisa’s demand. She stood up, bent down to her left ankle and rolled up her jeans to the middle of her calf. No cuts or scratches, just a tattoo of a butterfly.
‘Turn your foot to the left.’
Josie followed her orders, revealing nothing but pearly white flesh on the inside of her ankle.
‘Right ankle, please.’
She bent down and rolled up the other leg. She turned her foot without being asked. No scratches. No bruising. She rolled down her jeans.
Lisa’s face was blank.
‘I think I’ll be going now,’ Josie said. She took her coat off the back of the chair and walked to the door, a grin plastered across her face.
‘What did the attacker look like, Josie?’ Marcus asked.
‘I didn’t see his face. It was getting dark. I guess you’ll have to do your job, instead of relying on people like me to do it for you.’
She smirked again and shut the door behind her.
TWENTY-FOUR
Naomi sat in the chair by the fire and tried to focus on the crackle of flames, but it was no use: the memory of Max’s yelps echoing along the shore bled into her ears. A lot of things had happened in her life that she struggled to forget, but the sound of Max’s pain was sure to stay with her until the end. She picked up the iron poker and shuffled the wood around.
Except for the glow of flames, the house was in total darkness. She had only ever turned on the lights for Max. She had lived in darkness her whole life. Finally the outside world matched her own.
The house was nothing without him. It was like sitting in a room stripped of every bit of familiarity: no furniture, no curtains, no cushions, no carpets, just a shell that echoed her every lonely breath.
The tears wouldn’t stop.
Every time she closed her eyes she could hear Max yelping with the impact of the knife, feel the weight of him in her arms as she carried him up the beach. She still couldn’t raise her arms above her chest.
She put the glass to her lips and drank the rest of the brandy in two large gulps.
She thought back to the first time she had met Max. He had been just two years
old and fresh from training, and he still had that distinct puppy breath. She had let him sleep on the bed with her and Dane for the first few nights, before he found his spot on the floor beside her. They had a bond that couldn’t rival any other. When she had trekked to the cliff that morning she had wanted to die to put an end to the loneliness, but it was only now that Max was gone that she realised: she was truly alone for the first time since waking up at the bus stop.
She thought back to the killer in the alley. She could still feel the stranger’s hands on top of hers, moving them over Amber’s mutilated body. It was important for her to use her name; Amber wasn’t just a body, she had been a person who had lived and breathed.
She tried to match the stranger’s touch and sounds to those on the beach. The hands that had lifted her off the ground had been the same pair that had forced her to feel Amber’s body, the same ones that had wiped a tear from her cheek. The police were wrong, she wasn’t safe or immune, and it had taken the attack on Max for them all to realise.
The doorbell rang, slicing through the silence in the room. She sat rooted to the chair; life couldn’t hurt her if she refused to open the door and let it in.
It could be her mother, or Dane, maybe even George, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell them that Max had almost died right in front of her and she had done so little to save him.
Knuckles rapped against the door. She didn’t know the person standing on the other side, or at least not well enough to distinguish their knock from another. Her mother knocked delicately. Her sister’s was fast and short, like she wanted to get her visit over with as quickly as possible. There was a hardness to Dane’s. She hadn’t learned George’s yet, but it didn’t sound as though it belonged to him. It was fast and persistent, like a delicate hand imitating strength.
It could be the police; maybe they had found the person who had hurt Max and wanted to tell her in person. She put down her glass and went to the door. Her clothes were still piled at the bottom of the stairs, stained with the potent scent of the sea. Grains of sand stuck to the soles of her feet.
‘Hello?’ she said behind the door. She cleared her throat, spoke louder. ‘Hello?’