by S J Bolton
‘You said earlier you’ve seen a lot of her since she was released?’ the detective said. ‘Every weekday in your case. Why is that?’
Felix leaned back in his chair, although it was the last thing he felt like doing. ‘None of us wanted to particularly. But she wormed her way back into our lives. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. It was getting embarrassing, to be honest, causing problems with our families.’
‘And yet you gave her a job?’
‘I felt sorry for her.’
‘She’s been working for your company for, what? Five weeks?’
Felix mimed thinking about it. ‘Sounds about right.’
‘Getting on all right, is she?’
‘Yeah, she’s not bad, in fairness. She got to grips with the finances quickly. Turned up on time every day. She was OK.’
‘So, she probably wouldn’t wish you any harm? Seeing as how you were her employer.’
‘I’m sure she hates me as much as the others. Maybe I’m next.’
‘When did you last see her?’
This was where he had to be careful, where any information he gave could be checked against what the others said. Except, there weren’t any others now. Only him and Amber. And Megan.
‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘She didn’t come into work last week. She’d booked leave, but only for a week, so she should have come back on Monday.’ He dropped his head into his hands, to give himself thinking time. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m struggling to take all this in. Xav was my best man, I’ve known him since we were kids. Tal was a good mate too.’
Silence, then, ‘Take your time, Mr O’Neill.’ A glass of water was placed in front of him. ‘In fact, why don’t we take a short break?’
The interview was suspended and Felix left alone. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hands – they came away damp, who’d have thought it? – and swallowed some of the water. It was lukewarm and contained too much fluoride. By the time the detectives came back, he’d made a decision.
‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ he said.
The two men settled themselves down, switched on the recording equipment, and waited.
‘Twenty years ago, we set up a trust fund for Megan.’
The lead detective’s face betrayed no surprise. ‘A trust fund?’
‘I can’t remember whose idea it was, but we thought about it the day she was sentenced.’
‘Sorry, who is “we”?’
‘The gang, the five of us. Me, Xav, Tal, Amber and Dan. We were in court that day, although I don’t think Megan ever knew. We agreed that once we’d finished university and were earning money, we’d set aside ten per cent of our income every year and put it in a trust for Megan when she was released.’
A glance between the two detectives. ‘That’s exceptionally generous.’
‘We were kids. And we were gutted about what happened. We did it, too. Even Dan, who only had a teacher’s salary for most of the time. Xav managed it for us, and it was pretty sizeable by the time she was released.’
‘She must have been grateful.’
Felix dropped his gaze again. ‘We didn’t tell her.’
‘Why not?’
He looked up and hardened his stare. ‘We weren’t kids any more. Something we’d done when we were teenagers felt childish, unnecessary. It was a lot of money. We were all reluctant to give it to her, to be honest. We were heels, I’m not denying that. Anyway, the thing is, she found it.’
‘Found it how?’
‘She noticed I was making regular contributions to a trust fund and managed to access it. She really is very clever. But instead of being grateful, she was furious, because she knew we’d been holding it back.’
‘I suppose I can see her point.’
‘Yeah, me too. I’m not defending what we did. But she didn’t just find it, she stole it. I mean, she accessed it. The money’s gone. She has it. So, wherever she is, and whatever she’s got planned, she’s very well resourced.’
‘We’ll need to access your company’s computer system,’ the detective said.
Felix nodded the permission that he knew wasn’t necessary. He’d realised in the night that, sooner or later, the police would go into his company accounts. It didn’t matter. Short of the trust fund – and he’d owned up to that – there was nothing that could incriminate him.
‘There’s something else,’ he said. ‘Something she told us last time we saw her.’
‘I thought you couldn’t remember the last time you saw her?’
‘The occasion I can remember,’ he told them firmly. ‘It’s the date I’m struggling with. Maybe it was the second to last time, I don’t know, OK, but I think this is important. She told us she’d been gang-raped by her father and several of his friends the summer we did our A levels. We were knocked for six. She’d given no hint of it twenty years ago, but it obviously explained why she’d gone off the rails. You know, failing her A levels so spectacularly, doing that stupid driving thing? She was traumatised. Probably suffering PTSD, not thinking properly. I wish now we had known – we would have made sure the police knew and it would have been taken into account in her sentencing, but we didn’t.’
Both detectives were making notes.
‘Her dad was attacked not so long ago,’ Felix went on. ‘Beaten up in his caravan. It was on the news. I think she arranged it, using our money. She’s using the trust-fund money to get her own back on everyone she thinks let her down.’
‘Do you have any idea where she might be?’
Felix shook his head. ‘She might have contacts, people she knew inside. I don’t think she has any family in the area other than her dad and he’s still in hospital.’
‘We’re nearly done, Mr O’Neill. Just a couple more things to run past you. What car did Ms Macdonald drive?’
Felix let his eyes drift and pictured himself standing at his office window, looking out at the car park. ‘A Nissan Micra. Quite an old model. Metallic blue.’
Another photograph slid across the desk towards Felix. Taken at night, a car, that might have been blue, but it was hard to say, was heading out of town towards Boars Hill.
‘This one?’ the detective asked.
The registration number wasn’t visible. ‘Looks similar,’ Felix said.
‘Ms Macdonald hadn’t registered the car in her name so was in effect driving illegally,’ the detective said. ‘It would help if you knew the registration number.’
Felix closed his eyes and thought for a second. ‘PD54 RZM,’ he said.
‘You sound very certain.’
‘I’m good with numbers too,’ he said. ‘Is that the same car?’
‘It is. It was caught on camera going up Boars Hill and then coming back down again around about the time of Mr Attwood’s murder.’
Felix felt a rising excitement. ‘Is that proof?’
‘Not quite, we can’t see who’s driving the car. But it is strong circumstantial evidence.’
‘One more thing, sir.’ The other detective produced a clear plastic evidence bag. ‘Do you recognise these?’
Megan’s sunglasses, the same pair she’d been wearing at Talitha’s lunch party.
‘They’re Megan’s,’ he said.
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely. She wore them in her hair most of the time, but when she took them off, I could see the ends were chewed.’ He pointed. ‘Like that.’
The bag was removed.
‘Thank you for your time, Mr O’Neill. We’ll be in touch.’
The recording equipment was switched off and all three men got to their feet. At the door, Felix turned back.
‘Are you able to tell me where the sunglasses came from?’ he said.
A brief look was exchanged. ‘Don’t see why not. We found them on the driveway of Talitha
Slater’s house. Not far from her body.’
57
The sound of the security gates opening caused Amber to slice a sliver of skin from the top of her thumb. A bubble of blood appeared a second before the pain kicked in and, as always, she wondered how she might cope with real pain when even a tiny cut hurt so blinking much. Well, she might find out soon, exactly as Tal, Xav, and Dan had.
She had to calm down; blind panic would kill her for sure. The gates had opened to let Dex in; he was due home round about now.
She’d been cooking – she often did when she was stressed and needed a simple, productive way of filling her time. Each election night, and Amber had known four since becoming an MP, saw her peeling, chopping, flash-frying and casseroling. By the time the result was declared, her freezer would be full and her kitchen looking like the oven had exploded.
Dripping blood over the worktop, she found some paper towel and wrapped it around the wound. Only then did she realise that Dex hadn’t entered the house. Nor had she heard the wheels of his car on the drive, and the security light outside the back door remained off. And just like that, the fear was back.
Amber left the kitchen, grabbing her bag on the way, because it contained both her phones and she never let them leave her side any more. In the dining room, she approached the big bay window that overlooked the drive. No sign of Dexter’s car. She was reaching for her bag to call him, when the burner phone began to ring. Felix was calling. Well, of course it was Felix – he and she were the only ones left.
No, no, she couldn’t think about that, not now.
‘Hi.’
Without preamble, Felix said, ‘I need to talk to you.’
Amber was still listening out for her husband’s arrival. ‘I may have to call you back.’
‘No, not over the phone. Remember what we talked about? When a certain person first came back?’
No phone conversations because you never knew who might be listening. Amber, especially, had to be careful.
‘Are you on your own?’ Felix said. ‘Is anyone with you?’
‘No, but I think Dex is about to come in.’
Felix seemed to breathe out a heavy sigh. ‘OK, good. Listen, I need to see you. Can you come over?’
Not tonight. Not now.
‘I don’t think I can.’
Another pause, another audible intake of breath. Felix, too, was upset, maybe afraid, and this made everything worse. Felix was supposed to be their tough guy. If he fell, they all did.
They all had, though. Only two left.
‘Am, this is important.’
She could hear the tremble in his voice that he was trying so hard to hide. ‘You and I have to talk,’ he went on. ‘We need to decide what we do next. Something’s happened.’
Well, of course something had happened. Megan, released from prison, had become an avenging fury, taking down everyone in her path. She’d killed Dan, Tal and even Xav, whom she’d loved, so she’d have no mercy for the best friend who’d stolen the love of her life and left her to rot in prison.
‘What’s happened?’ she managed.
‘Am, I’m not going to tell you again. You’re in trouble. Where are the girls?’
The sudden subject change threw her.
‘What?’
‘Pearl and Ruby, where are they? I’ve sent Sarah and Luke to her parents. I don’t want them anywhere near here.’
A stab at her heart, sharper and colder than anything she’d felt so far. ‘Me too,’ she said. ‘They’re at Dex’s mum’s place in Finchley. I told her I’d be busy in the House for the next few days. Dex wasn’t sure when he’d be back but he’s here now.’
Maybe he wasn’t though – she still hadn’t heard her husband enter the house. Amber was suddenly aware of how big the house was, and how far from those nearby.
‘That’s good,’ Felix told her. ‘Right, can you get yourself over here? Come to the factory – we’ll be safe there. No one has keys but me and the cleaners, and they’ll have finished by now.’
Safe. She had no idea what that meant any more.
‘Amber, are you listening?’
‘Of course. OK. If you think it’s important.’
‘And Am, don’t trust anyone. Don’t talk to anyone and don’t stop driving. Just get here, OK?’
Felix ended the call and the silence of the house seemed to surround Amber. In spite of what she’d just told Felix, she was alone. Dexter wasn’t capable of being quiet for more than a few seconds; even when he slept. She’d never known a man snore and talk in his sleep the way her husband did. This oppressive, unnatural silence meant he wasn’t in the house.
She grabbed a jacket and was on the point of unlocking the back door when she remembered why she’d thought Dex was home. She’d heard the gates opening and closing.
The huge, state-of-the-art gates, installed when she’d been appointed prisons and probation minister, recognised the number plates of a handful of cars permitted automatic entry. To open them at any other time required a six-digit key code that, she’d been assured, was impossible to guess, as long as she didn’t use anything obvious like her birthday, her husband’s or either of her children’s. She hadn’t, so the gates couldn’t have opened; she must have heard next door’s gates.
Taking heart, Amber slipped outside. As she locked the door, her jacket was nearly pulled from her shoulders by the force of the wind. A scattering of twigs and branches on the ground told her the storm had been raging for some time. The gates were closed, exactly as they should be, and she wasn’t going to worry about the garage door being open, because she usually left it that way for Dex. Her car was facing outwards, ready to drive away, something that had been impressed upon her by her security team. She was in the driver’s seat in seconds.
Leaving the property, Amber turned onto the A-road outside her house. She’d driven about a hundred yards, was reaching fifty miles an hour, when she realised her terrible mistake. When she’d remote unlocked the car it had responded, not with its customary clunk of locks disengaging but simply with a turning on of the internal lights. Her car had not been locked. At the same time, she became aware of a smell that didn’t belong: rain on clothing, the chemically created floral scent of a shampoo and a hint of body odour.
Her foot froze on the accelerator and she knew exactly what she was about to see in the rear-view mirror. It was almost a relief when the road behind vanished from view and a pair of dark eyes in a pale face appeared. When the worst happens, dread, at least, is over.
‘Hello, Amber,’ Megan said from the back seat. ‘Keep driving.’
58
‘Don’t slow down. No, I’m serious, Amber, you have to keep driving. Don’t even think about pulling over on this road.’
Megan’s face left the mirror momentarily, replaced by the back of her head as she glanced behind. ‘If you stop and another car comes along, we’re both toast,’ she snapped. ‘Keep your eyes on the road, keep driving, and for God’s sake, get a grip. You’re hyperventilating.’
Amber could hear what Megan was saying, but her brain couldn’t process it.
‘What the hell do you want?’ she managed.
Her voice, thin and unnaturally high-pitched, might have been squeezed out through a tube. It was a stupid question anyway. She knew what Megan wanted. She wanted to kill them all. Felix must have known she was on her way over and damn him for not just saying it. Sooner or later, when they reached a layby or a turn-off, she’d be told to pull over and that would be it.
‘Only to talk.’ Megan’s voice was calm, low-pitched; the tone people use when soothing a panicking animal. ‘Wait a sec, I’m coming through.’
She moved forward; Amber cringed and the car swerved.
‘Oh, for God’s sake,’ Megan snapped. ‘I’m only coming to join you in the front.’
Out o
f the corner of her eye, Amber watched Megan squeeze through the gap between the seats. Why, when she needed it most, could she remember nothing of what her close-protection officers had told her about self-defence?
Megan waved both hands in front of her face. ‘Look,’ Megan said. ‘No gun, no knife, nothing. I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘What do you want?’ Tears sprang into Amber’s eyes. ‘I’m really sorry about what we did. I know we were wrong, and I don’t blame you for hating us, but you’re turning into a monster.’
She should be braver than this, she knew, but Pearl and Ruby – she might never see them again.
A hand landed on her arm and she shook it off, the way she’d shake off a spider or a wasp.
‘Amber, listen to me—’
‘My little girls, Megan. How can you do this to my girls?’
‘Amber, get a fucking grip. I’m not the one you need to be afraid of.’
She risked a sharp glance sideways. Megan’s face was unreadable, but somehow, she didn’t look like a cold-blooded killer about to strike. If anything, she too looked scared and that made no sense, none at all.
‘What do you mean?’ Amber said.
‘Where are we going?’ Megan replied. ‘Right now, where were you headed before you saw me? Come on, that’s not hard.’
For a moment, Amber had to think. Of course, she was meeting Felix, that was it, at the factory.
Megan said, ‘You took a phone call on that burner phone Tal gave you. I could see you from the drive. Was it Felix?’
Amber let her head fall and rise.
‘And he wants you to meet him somewhere?’
Another nod – what else could she do? Megan flopped back onto her seat as though struck by a sudden thought and a phone rang, startling them both. It was Amber’s burner phone. Felix was calling.
‘Don’t answer him,’ Megan snapped. She leaned across and killed the call. A few seconds later, Amber’s own phone began ringing through the car’s internal system. Felix again. He’d be at the factory by now. When she didn’t show up, he’d do something, wouldn’t he? He wouldn’t abandon her.