Best regards,
Ray Jones
Course Director
I stared at the piece of paper. I knew Evie had been doing an art course. But I couldn’t remember her mentioning a video installation. I didn’t even know she was into that kind of thing. And what was all this about sleepwalking? She’d suffered from it as a kid – chronically, in fact. But could it have returned after all these years?
My mind zigzagged in another direction.
I am watching you.
Those weird emails I’d had. The way they’d been so specific. Had they been connected to the camera Dr Jones was talking about?
I stared at the letter again, focusing particularly on one line: … your decision to involve a male acquaintance in its installation did raise concerns.
Jesus Christ, had someone helped Evie to set up the camera?
Had someone been in her bedroom?
Could this person be TBM?
In Evie’s bedroom I ransacked everything – just as I had the first time – but now I wasn’t looking for diaries or photographs or imaginary peepholes. I was looking for something specific.
I was looking for a spycam.
It took next to no time, now I knew what I was looking for. There it was, concealed on top of the curtain rail, trained directly over Evie’s bed. I went into the hall, and found a second, perched high up, near the ceiling, partially concealed by the picture rail.
I had no idea what to do now. Should I ring the police and explain what I had just discovered? Or should I try to figure out what it meant?
I am watching you.
TBM flashed through my mind again.
I got out my phone and punched in Lorelei’s number. Her reaction was swift and brutal. ‘Jesus Christ, Rachel, how could you not have told me about this before? What the fuck were you thinking?’
I mumbled something incoherent.
‘Okay. What you need to do now is pack your bags and go straight to the police.’
‘I’m not leaving until I’ve found out who had access to these cameras.’
‘There’s one obvious culprit, isn’t there?’
‘You mean Donnagh?’
‘Who else slept in your sister’s bedroom? Who else had access to her flat?’
I thought of all the one-night stands Evie had allegedly been engaged in. The drugs. ‘There could have been others. I’m not sure.’
‘Rachel, listen to me. This is serious now. Whoever did this, we’ll find them. But you need to check yourself into a hotel. You could be in danger.’
I felt a shiver run down my spine. ‘Where are you, by the way?’
She seemed to hesitate. ‘I’m interviewing Donnagh’s ex-wife. Sounds like good timing, given what you’ve just found out.’
‘I don’t think Donnagh was involved with the spycam installation, Lorelei.’
‘Why not?’
‘Evie started the art course several months before she began dating him. So it must have been someone else who helped her install it.’
Lorelei went quiet, then concurred. ‘I guess you have a point.’ Finally she said, ‘Look, take Evie’s laptop and the cameras if you want to. But please get out of that apartment. Agreed?’
‘Agreed,’ I said, then hung up.
Except I didn’t move out of the apartment. Rather, I stayed in front of Evie’s computer, knowing I was standing on the precipice, the truth dangling in front of me. And I knew, without a shadow of doubt, that this time I was ready to jump.
My hands really were trembling now, but I forced myself to steady them, searching for relevant terms in Evie’s inbox. ‘Foundation art course’ yielded no joy. Neither did ‘Greenwich College of Art and Design’. But when I inserted the words ‘webcam’, an email immediately popped up on my screen.
I clicked it open quickly, then scanned through the contents.
Evie, of course I will help you choose and install the webcam for your project. Sounds really interesting! Would this Saturday suit?
Eve suggested eleven a.m. as a meeting time, and asked where she should go.
Eleven sounds perfect. As for where to go, why don’t you swing by mine? We can have a coffee and a chat about the exact specifications of the project, then we can check out Dixons just round the corner from me – they have an amazing range of cameras.
To this end, the emailer had attached their home address.
As I stared at the name flashing up at me, I could hardly believe my eyes. This person claimed to care for Evie. To be her friend.
After that, everything I thought I knew began to crumble. I walked, as if I was in a dream, until half an hour later I was outside the culprit’s door, praying this was some kind of sick joke.
I rang the doorbell a couple of times, but nothing. After that, I just pounded on the door. Finally, it opened, and a person looked out. A familiar face.
‘Rachel.’ That was all, and I wanted to hit them or scream or do something violent. Fuck them up for what they had done to my sister. To me.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Um?’
I pushed my way through anyway. ‘Have you anything to say about this, you sick fucker?’ I held one of the spycams up to the light.
But there was no response. No movement, even. All I could do was try to catch my breath and let my eyes adjust to the gloom.
56.
‘So you are TBM,’ I eventually spat, watching as the culprit’s face turned whiter and whiter: Tom who had sympathized with me days earlier in Evie’s office; the same Tom who had convinced me he knew nothing about her crash. Technically I should have been scared but I couldn’t be intimidated by such a pathetic figure. He looked like a child who had been caught torturing the family cat.
‘Answer me,’ I bellowed, and he seemed to cower away from me.
Finally he whispered, ‘Yes.’
‘You helped Evie set up the cameras for her art course, didn’t you?’
He nodded, unable to look at me.
‘And you somehow hooked it up so you could watch the footage yourself.’ I had no idea how that might work, probably something to do with the internet, but however he’d arranged it, he’d been able to spy on Evie, then on me. Creepy little shit.
‘How did you do it?’
He was silent for a while. Then: ‘Are you going to the police?’
‘Yes, if you don’t answer every single one of my questions, arsehole.’
‘Please don’t do that, Rachel.’
‘Then answer my fucking questions,’ I said, taking a step closer towards him.
‘Okay, okay,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘I hooked the camera up to her Wi-Fi. Got a live feed on my Mac.’ He pointed at a computer nearby.
‘Jesus Christ.’ A wave of nausea overcame me. ‘How could you have done something like that to her? How could she not have suspected you?’
‘Because Eve and I were friends,’ he said, in a defensive tone. ‘She knew I’d never do anything to hurt her. Actually, we were more than friends.’
‘Sorry?’
Tom raised his pale blue eyes to meet mine. ‘We kissed once on a night out. It didn’t go anywhere immediately – Eve said we were better off as mates – but I knew if I could just figure out the right approach, find the route to her heart, I’d win her over.’
‘And your version of the right approach was to film her secretly?’
‘Of course not. My plan was to help her with her project. I know I shouldn’t have done the other thing but I couldn’t help it. There was no malice to it.’ He paused, as if he was concentrating hard on getting his point across. ‘I was just having a sneak preview – before we got together. For real, I mean.’
I stared at him, utterly at a loss for words. He was so fucking delusional.
‘And what about Donnagh? Didn’t their relationship prove you’d got the wrong end of the stick? That Evie wasn’t interested in you at all.’
Tom snorted. ‘Donnagh meant nothing to her – he was an arrogant
tosser. I knew it wouldn’t take her long to come to her senses. To realize she was supposed to be with me.’
A hollow laugh bubbled up from somewhere deep inside me. ‘You’re mad, you do know that, right? They have a name for what you do. Stalking.’
‘Don’t say that.’ All of a sudden his tone had become harsher. ‘Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.’
‘I’m sorry?’ I said.
‘How dare you question my motives? I’m telling you I love Eve. That I only want what’s best for her.’
‘Is that right?’ I said, training my eyes on him. ‘Well, if you’re such a fucking gem, why have you been sending me those sick messages? Did you think that was also in Evie’s best interests? Did you think that was going to help her wake up?’
Tom glanced downwards so he wouldn’t have to meet my eye.
‘Answer me,’ I demanded.
Eventually he looked up. ‘Fine. I sent them to you because I felt you deserved them.’
‘You what?’
‘For all that feminist propaganda you spout. For aborting your defenceless unborn child.’
‘So you’re one of the God Squad, are you?’
‘No. I just think killing a child is wrong.’
‘I did not kill a child. I had a legal termination.’
‘Same difference. You hate families. You hate men.’
‘I’m married to a man.’
‘So you claim. Although I’m sure you’ll dump him soon enough, if you haven’t done so already.’
I must have flinched because something in Tom’s face seemed to brighten.
‘You’ve done it already, haven’t you? Or maybe he’s dumped you. Wouldn’t blame the poor bastard. What did you do – chop off his balls as punishment?’ He tittered.
I stared at him, his words spinning round and round in my head. Something was dawning on me very, very slowly. ‘You’re threatened by me, aren’t you, Tom?’ I said, in a low, quiet voice. ‘You blame me and my “feminist propaganda” for how your life has turned out. For the fact that you’re unmarried and alone – that Evie wouldn’t go near you unless she was off her head.’
Tom shifted a little. ‘I just think your type needs to be kept in check, is all.’
‘My type?’ I repeated.
‘Filling women’s heads with ideas – that it’s okay to be a whore, to treat men like shit.’
‘I’ve never encouraged women to treat men like shit. I simply campaign for equal rights.’
‘Your idea of equal rights.’ He snorted.
‘So I’m to blame for the fact that you lead a sad little life and that Evie wouldn’t give you the time of day. You think women like me are hampering your chances.’
‘Well, aren’t you?’
‘How do you make that one out?’
‘Without your type poisoning their minds against us, women like Eve would do what they’ve always done. They’d marry a normal man and raise a normal family. Instead, you fill them with bullshit about gender roles, about overthrowing the “patriarchy”. Suddenly their regular lives aren’t good enough any more and ordinary men like me, well, we’re not good enough either.’
‘Except you’re not ordinary, are you, Tom?’ I shot back.
Something in his eyes flickered.
‘I mean, ordinary men don’t go around filming their female work colleagues behind their backs. They don’t send pornographic images to women they hardly know.’
‘You deserved that. You ruin people’s lives.’
‘Oh, for Chrissake, Tom, grow up. The only person ruining your life is you. Join a group or something – stop blaming all your pathetic problems on other people.’
I marched over to where his Mac Air was sitting on a table, open as if he’d just been using it. I tried not to think about what he’d been doing in front of it all this time. ‘I take it this is where you watched your “live feed”? Do you have it all saved or downloaded or whatever the word is?’
Tom didn’t say anything, a look of contempt in his eyes. But I was damned if I was going to be intimidated. Not by that pathetic, sick fuck.
‘Are you the reason my sister is stuck in a coma?’
He wiped his nose with the back of his hand. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’
‘Well, if you’re not going to tell me, perhaps your computer will.’ I picked up the Mac and its accompanying socket and placed it under my arm. Tom sprang into action and raced to the hall door. He got there before I did, blocking my exit.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’
‘You can’t leave with that computer, Rachel.’
‘Are you intending to stop me?’
‘Yes,’ said Tom, but the word wobbled. I knew he wanted to hurt me, but I could see he didn’t have the stomach for it. That was when I took the opportunity to knee him hard in the balls, which forced him down onto the carpet.
‘See how you like being violated, you little prick,’ I said, then opened the door and pushed past him.
Out in the fresh air, I tucked the computer into my backpack, realizing I was shaking. But I was nearly there. Nearly at the truth. I’d been handed the keys to everything. Now I just needed to unlock the door.
57.
Once I was a safe distance away from Tom’s apartment, I hopped into a taxi and directed the driver back to Evie’s flat.
In her living room, I sat, cross-legged, on the carpet with a USB key and opened Tom’s Mac. What disgusting secrets did it hold? Would I be able to access the files he’d been keeping on Evie? He had been using the computer when I’d taken it, so the screen immediately popped open when I hit the ‘on’ button – no password necessary. For someone supposed to be a mastermind cybercriminal, this seemed like a substantial oversight.
And, to my amazement, the very files I’d been hoping for were there, already open, in a folder marked ‘E’. There were at least fifty videos, all with roughly the same run-time, three minutes. Tom had obviously been watching them before I’d burst in on him. I clicked on the first.
It was dated three months earlier, and was, as I suspected, footage from the spycam. There was Evie, changing into her nightie, getting into bed. In the process, she was revealing a quick flash of bum – no doubt the reason why pervert Tom had gone to the trouble of editing and saving it. I fought the urge to spew. And yet, despite the perverse nature of the footage, a part of me couldn’t help feeling entranced as I observed a living, breathing Evie. It was as if she had suddenly come out of her coma and was a functioning human being again.
I clicked on another file, then another. Tom had obviously chosen his footage with care. Each clip was progressively racy. Evie’s nightie became just a bra and knickers, then just a bra, building up to her being completely naked. I felt revulsion but also intense sadness. Would that beautiful body ever move again?
My phone rang but I ignored it. I was too focused on nailing Tom before he fled. Before it was too late.
I clicked through more files. In the early ones, Evie was sleeping alone but at some point Donnagh joined her. In the first clip, there was no funny business. They seemed to go to bed at different times, collapsing immediately into sleep. I wasn’t even sure why Tom had bothered keeping the footage.
But the next one was very different: Evie and Donnagh were having sex.
I ran my fingers through my hair, engulfed by shame.
I shouldn’t have been prying into my sister’s life, raking over her most intimate moments. But something compelled me to keep going. A hunch. A gut feeling, a sense that I was getting closer to something, something big …
The phone continued to ring and I continued to ignore it. Whoever it was would just have to wait. I was so close now I could taste it. Part of me still thought that if I solved the puzzle, I could wake up my sister. I could break the spell.
On and on I clicked, through the remaining files. A picture was building up, an inadvertent mini-film. True, there was no sleepwalking, or if there was, Tom hadn’t bothered
to save the footage, but ironically he had done what Evie herself had set out to do: to record her conscious and unconscious moments, a documentary.
I kept clicking. By accident I pressed one of the later files and was taken aback to see myself buck naked and straddling Jacob.
I jerked away from the computer. That was the day Jacob had arrived to visit Evie and we’d fallen into bed. Tom had probably wanked over us as he cut the footage, come noisily as he’d edited it into a neat three-minute clip.
At some point I remembered I could turn on audio and did so for the last few files. One of the final clips showed Evie sitting in her bedroom, clutching a pillow. Why had Tom bothered with this one? She wasn’t naked or engaged in anything kinky. If anything, she just looked scared.
Out of shot I heard Donnagh asking her if she was okay, if she was nearly ready.
‘Yeah, sure,’ she’d replied, plastering on a smile. When he’d left the room she moved away from the camera, perhaps to lock the door, took a really deep breath and knelt quickly on the floor.
I pressed my face closer to the screen, trying to figure out what was unspooling in front of me. Evie was pushing back a corner of the rug and yanking at something underneath. I couldn’t see it properly – the angle of the camera wasn’t right – but I could only imagine it was a floorboard. A few seconds later, something gave way, and Evie seemed to plunge her arm deep into a hole. I couldn’t see what was down there, but I understood what was going on. That must be where Evie had stashed things, her secret place.
Sisters and Lies Page 27