I’d told Mark it was anxiety, brought about by losing my parents when I was seventeen. I couldn’t tell him it was post-traumatic stress, brought about because my sister had been murdered. Because it was my fault she was dead. I had taken her into those woods to die.
Chapter 14
Alana Loxton
Tuesday
Surrey Docks was deserted. DC Loxton could hear the water lapping against the shore, the delicate sound amplified at this late hour.
The three police officers stood around the corpse of an adult male slumped on his back on the small pebbled beach; his mouth was wide open.
The water crept nearer to the strange group, as if wanting to reclaim the body that it had lost. Pieces of rubbish were strewn around them, washed up from the river. An empty red crisp packet, the label faded, was blown onto the dead man and skittered away towards the water’s edge.
Kowalski stood opposite her, grimacing. Rain clouds hung heavy and the light was fading fast, bringing on an early dusk.
Loxton shivered as the wind whipped a strand of her chestnut brown hair across her face; she was grateful that the temperature was plummeting, but the smell was still overpowering her.
The uniformed police officer droned on, his voice background noise, the body demanding her full attention. She tried to focus.
‘Have forensics finished up?’ she asked.
‘They’ve taken photographs and swabs at the scene.’
‘I’ll schedule the post-mortem,’ Loxton said.
The corpse was blanched and the stomach bloated like a massive balloon. The face was puffy with a dozen tiny abrasions. She guessed fish had been feeding on it. The eyes were gone, black holes taking their place, mirroring the dark clouds above. The fingertips were nibbled to the muscle, the prints erased for ever.
Frustration overwhelmed her, and her stomach knotted. It would take days to identify the body as Mark Rowthorn’s. She hadn’t expected it to end like this: a rotting corpse belched out by the river. She’d hoped to find him alive.
The body was in such a state that it would be difficult even to ascertain the cause of death. The corpse was like a cheap movie puppet in a low-budget horror. If it wasn’t for the foul stench, she wouldn’t have believed it was real.
‘Is it him?’ the young policeman asked her. ‘You said he was in his thirties and athletic, but you know how punishing the Thames is.’
‘I’m not sure,’ Loxton said.
‘Have you searched him for identification?’ She hoped that he had spared her that task.
‘Just the pockets but there was nothing.’ The young policeman shifted his weight from one leg to the other.
The three of them waited in silence for someone else to make the first move.
‘All right,’ sighed Kowalski. ‘Let’s get this over with.’ He handed Loxton blue plastic gloves, and then pulled some on himself.
These were the moments in the job that Loxton loathed. She turned to the flowing river, which was oblivious to the suffering it had caused. She forced her head up towards the black clouds above, inhaled the air blown from over the river, took a deep breath, and then turned back to the body.
They searched the corpse gingerly. There was nothing obvious to suggest foul play. No stab wounds or obvious bullet-entry sites. The back of the head was caved in, but that could have been caused during a fall into the river, hitting his head on a bridge rampart, or by the current dragging him along the bottom. The damage could all be explained away by the river and the scavengers that lived within. Or it could be that someone had hit the man with a blunt instrument and then disposed of his body in the Thames.
They had nearly finished searching when Loxton noticed a watch on the dead man’s wrist. She unbuckled it. On the back was inscribed: ‘To Mark, love always, Julia’. Loxton couldn’t move for a moment, spellbound by the delicate swirls that formed the words. She dropped the watch into an evidence bag and showed Kowalski.
‘Looks like our missing man is now a potential murder investigation,’ she said.
Kowalski nodded. ‘Once we’ve finished here and updated his fiancée, we’ll need to speak to David Steele. At the moment, he’s the only person we know of with a clear motive. Someone moved that one hundred thousand pounds from Rowthorn’s account, and I don’t think it was Rowthorn.’
Chapter 15
Julia Talbot
Tuesday
My doorbell rang. It was late. I’d only just got back in and managed to take off my make-up, throw on my pyjamas and dressing gown, before Lucy had come back from speaking with the police.
I’d wanted her to think I’d been at home all day.
I hated lying to her, but she kept looking at me like I was made of china and would break at any moment. She’d be so angry if she knew I’d gone off on my own. All I wanted to do was forget about Jonny, pray that he’d leave me alone.
The bell went again. I dragged myself up off the sofa and peeked through the spyhole. There was a handsome man in a smart suit. He was drenched; blond hair darkened by rain. He rang the bell again and then started knocking.
‘Yes?’ I opened the door part-way. He had a kind face and striking hazel eyes.
‘Miss Talbot, I’m Alec Saunders from the News Association.’ He put out his hand, but I crossed my arms across my chest. He withdrew it and I noticed he was also holding a notebook. How did he know where I lived? I scanned the courtyard but there was no one else there. Were more journalists coming to harass me? I made a note to warn security.
‘Why are you the only one here?’ I asked.
‘I make it my business to always be in the know.’ He smiled at me. ‘I used to work for your father-in-law, a few years back.’
Charles had never got to be my father-in-law. I didn’t recognize this man and Charles had never mentioned him. ‘I don’t talk to journalists,’ I said firmly. The chill evening started to seep into my hallway and I shivered. I tried to close the door, but he put his hand on it before I could manage to.
‘I understand. This must be the worst time in your life. Can I come in? I won’t take up too much of your time.’
‘It’s late.’ I kept my hands on the door and wished he’d step back so I could close it.
He carried on speaking, but I refused to listen. ‘Please, can you just go?’
‘Of course, but I wanted to say I’m sorry for your loss. If you ever want to talk . . .’
‘What did you say?’ My voice was unnaturally high.
‘I said I’m sorry for your loss.’ He consulted his notes. ‘Have the police asked you to identify the body?’
Everything seemed to stop. I felt dizzy. He must have noticed the blood draining from my face because when he spoke again he was stammering and less sure of himself.
‘You . . . you didn’t know . . . did you? The police should have told you by now. They found a body in the Thames.’
‘No . . . no, it’s not true.’ My voice was raised as I tried to block him out and then Lucy was at my side. The journalist tried to say something to her, but she slammed the door shut in his face.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked me, her face pale.
‘They’ve found him,’ I managed to gasp, as if I was drowning. I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs.
‘What?’ Lucy reached her hands out to steady me.
‘He’s dead.’ I gripped my wedding band tight, which hung on a chain around my neck.
‘He can’t be.’
I tried to speak but couldn’t. My legs gave way and I sank to the floor. My vision blurred. The police had found a body.
The doorbell resonated through the fog.
Lucy hugged me and I sobbed into her shoulder. The letterbox rattled. The reporter was staring at us through it.
‘Miss Talbot,’ he said, sounding flustered. ‘You’ve had a shock. I’m going to leave you my card. I’m writing a number on the back as an idea of the sort of figure we could offer you, if you’d share the story of your time with Mark
.’
I stood up, aimed a hard kick at the door and watched his card flutter down onto my doormat.
‘Oh my god, I’m so sorry.’ Lucy held me but I wrenched free. Mark was really gone. I’d never see him again. Never hear him telling me he loved me . . . never hear his laugh. I’d prepared for this moment, imagined losing him a million times, expected a feeling of freeness when it happened – release. But of course it wasn’t like that, it was never going to be like that. My nightmares were finally real and there was a crushing fear in my chest, stopping me from breathing, from thinking. He was gone and there was no coming back from it.
I opened the door, ready to scream at the journalist, but he was moving back.
Loxton and Kowalski were striding towards me. Their hair was wet and their clothes clung to their bodies. The evening rain drummed harder against the house, spattering dirty water into my hallway.
‘I already know.’ I went to push the door closed, but Kowalski was too quick and managed to hold it open.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said. ‘Let us talk to you. Explain.’
Loxton was arguing with the man from the press. She was furious. I was too shocked to fight, my mind numb. I had to get inside. I let the door go and retreated into the living room – anything to get away from the noise. My mind was racing, trying to understand what I’d heard. I imagined Mark’s body being pulled from the water, but it couldn’t be real. Lucy sank into a chair next to me.
‘I can’t believe it, Julia. I’m sorry.’ Lucy was shaking, her eyes shining as tears gathered. At least I had her with me.
Kowalski crouched in front of me, his brow etched with concern. ‘We’re so sorry for your loss.’
Everyone was sorry. The word kept rattling around in my head. Useless and banal. Lucy took my hand and I clung to it. ‘Please,’ I said. ‘Tell me what happened.’
‘A man’s body has been found in Surrey Docks; it appears that he drowned,’ Kowalski said gently. ‘We don’t know for sure that it’s Mark, but it is looking likely.’
‘Mark can’t be dead.’ Lucy’s hand tightened on mine.
‘There was trauma to the back of the head. We don’t know what happened yet.’ Kowalski’s arms moved a fraction towards me, as if he wanted to gather me up his arms and hold me. I would have let him.
Loxton joined him, her lips pressed firmly together as if she was in pain.
‘I don’t understand.’ I closed my eyes and covered my face with my hands. Trauma to the back of the head. I could see him, lying on the ground, brain and blood matting his brown hair. It felt like someone was squeezing my heart.
‘This could have been an accident.’ Kowalski’s calm voice grated on me. I suddenly felt a flare of anger; his life was untouched. So was Loxton’s.
‘What happened to him?’
‘We don’t know yet,’ Loxton said. ‘We need to do a post-mortem and for the formal identification to come back.’
‘But it is him, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘Why else would you be here so late?’
‘The male didn’t have any ID on him, but he was wearing a watch. We were hoping you could have a look.’ Loxton took out an evidence bag from her briefcase and held it up to me. Inside, suspended in the tight plastic, was Mark’s watch. I’d bought it for his birthday.
I leaned closer and turned the bag over to read the inscription.
‘Is this Mark’s watch, Julia?’ Loxton was watching me carefully.
There was no doubt. I’d inscribed it myself. I nodded through the tears.
‘Thank you.’ Loxton returned the watch to her briefcase.
‘Did you find his wedding ring?’ I asked as I touched my own. The past few days had made me question Mark’s love for me more than ever, but if he had the ring, that proved our love had been real. I’d have that at least.
Loxton shook her head. ‘Not yet.’
‘I want to see him.’ I stood. I needed to be with him. I owed him that much.
Despair crossed Loxton’s face, making her look much older. She exchanged a look with Kowalski that I didn’t like.
‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea,’ Loxton said at last.
‘I could identify him for you.’ I knew every line on his face, every freckle on his body.
‘It’s not that simple, I’m afraid.’ Loxton swallowed hard. ‘You wouldn’t recognize him. The river . . . it’s . . . it’s damaged the body. We’re going to have to do a dental comparison or DNA for the formal identification.’ Her gaze dropped to the floor.
‘How can a river damage a body?’ A surge of rage flowed through me. He belonged to me, and I needed to be with him, wherever he was.
‘Do you know if Mark was wearing his watch when you last saw him?’ Kowalski said as Loxton continued to look away.
I tried hard to remember the past few weeks. My mind was fogging over. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Please, this has been a big shock,’ Lucy said. ‘Can’t you see it’s too much?’
‘Of course,’ Kowalski said. ‘We’ll leave you now.’
‘But I need to be with him. Where is he?’
‘It’s not possible right now,’ Loxton said.
I stood up, refusing to take no for an answer, but they all ignored me. It was as if I didn’t exist. Lucy walked them out of the living room, and I could hear them talking in the hallway.
‘Mark’s parents are being informed now by our colleagues.’ My heart sank. Poor Elizabeth and Charles.
‘Thank you,’ Lucy said and added in a whisper. ‘Julia’s in no fit state.’
Then they were gone.
It was as if I’d fallen into someone else’s life. Everything was the same – the pictures on the walls, the sofa and cushions – but they weren’t mine anymore. It didn’t feel real. Something had come into my life and taken away the Mark I knew and replaced him with a stranger who’d been missing and now had been found.
Lucy was beside me, wrapping her arms around me, pulling me close.
‘It’s going to be all right, you’ll see,’ Lucy whispered, rocking me back and forth as if she could soothe my pain.
I closed my eyes. Her body felt wooden, as if it was a life-sized doll. She wasn’t real. The whole world wasn’t real and no one else could see it but me.
Chapter 16
Alana Loxton
Tuesday
Loxton walked out of Talbot’s flat filled with a useless anger. If they’d got there first, that meeting would have been different. Still hard, but they’d have had Talbot on side. Losing the family at this stage would compromise the investigation. She waited until they were in the car and away from prying ears before speaking.
‘That was difficult.’ She massaged her temples, giving herself a moment to relieve the tension.
‘All we ever do is deliver bad news,’ Kowalski said. ‘Sometimes I hate this job.’
‘What the hell was that journalist doing there already?’ The memory of Alec Saunders outside the house caused a lump in Loxton’s throat. He was the man who had ruined her career. She hated him more than anyone else on the planet. He’d nearly destroyed her.
Kowalski let out a long sigh and stared out of the window. ‘I don’t know, but we need to let Patel know the press might be on their way to Charles Rowthorn’s house. Winter won’t be happy this has been leaked so quick.’
‘Shit.’ She grabbed her mobile and spoke to Patel, who confirmed that they were already at the Rowthorns’ house and there were no press there yet.
‘Only you, me, the uniformed officer and Winter knew about that body.’ Kowalski turned on the car’s heating. ‘One of us is leaking information to the press. Winter isn’t going to blame himself, is he?’
‘Great. That makes me suspect number one as I’m the new girl.’ Loxton slumped back into her seat. A pain was screwing into her forehead, slow and relentless. So, this was history repeating itself. She’d rightly been accused of leaking information to the press before, but that was through her own stupidity, which was the
only reason she still had a job – she’d been manipulated by Saunders. But whoever had leaked the story on this case had done it deliberately. For cash or for favours she didn’t know, but she would be the one to get the blame.
‘I was with you the whole time,’ Kowalski said. It was small comfort; he didn’t know about her past.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘We know it wasn’t us.’ But it did matter. Of course it did.
‘I’ll handle Winter,’ Kowalski said. ‘It’s the uniform. He’ll have told someone who’s told three other people. You know how it goes. I wouldn’t worry about it.’
There was a light rapping at her window. Startled, she turned to look.
It was Alec.
She opened the window, holding her breath. The rain had eased, but there was still a light drizzle.
‘I forgot to ask earlier, how are you keeping?’ Alec Saunders grinned at her.
She wanted to punch him in the face. ‘Much better now I don’t have to deal with your bullshit. You’re not going to get a quote from us, Alec, so piss off.’
He laughed politely. ‘Always the feisty one. I’m not here for a quote. I just wanted to see how you are.’
Loxton didn’t know how to answer. Inside she was seething. She had so many things she wanted to say to him, but Kowalski’s presence stopped her.
‘How did you find out so quick?’ Loxton asked. ‘Who told you?’
‘I never reveal a source.’ Alec tapped his nose with a finger.
‘You shouldn’t have told Talbot about the body,’ Kowalski said. ‘That woman is more distraught than she needed to be, just because you’re desperate for a story.’
‘It’s not my fault you’re so slow.’ Alec shrugged.
Kowalski frowned, his demeanour turning sour. ‘Look, mate,’ he said. ‘We’ve got actual work to do, rather than profiting from other people’s misery, so why don’t you fuck off? You can quote me on that.’
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