“It was when you left in the car for Oakpark. Before I could think too much, I unscrewed the bar from the weight. I know you wiped it, but it wasn’t enough. They’d have found something. Skin particles, I don’t know.”
“But where is it?”
“I went into their en suite and climbed up to the skylight window and I rolled the bar down to the gutter at the bottom of the roof. It’s still there. Maybe someday someone will find it, but not yet.”
“Christ.” Felipe was the last person she’d expect to get involved with hiding evidence. “But won’tyourDNA be on it now too? Fingerprints? When they eventually do find it, I mean?”
“I put a pair of Rory’s socks over my hands and I brought those home with me. But I don’t know if they’ll ever find it.”
“Jesus…”
As she processed this, Felipe moved to take a position in front of their hall door, arms folded, a determined expression on his face.
She shook her head and stepped forward, but he stood his ground, physically blocking her from leaving. Her hackles rose. He was as bad as Rory. Trying to control her, like Rory had tried to control Aimee. Had successfully controlled Aimee. HadkilledAimee. Was Felipe going to do the same? This new version of Felipe, this person who would hide evidence and cover up crimes and stand in her way? She’d never let that happen. She’d get there first if she had to. He looked so resolute, standing there, dead set on stopping her. What had she ever seen in him, she wondered?His kindness, said a distant voice in her head. His evenness. His stability. She waved it away. He was an obstacle. A man trying to control her.
“Venetia, if you go now, it’s over between us. I can’t keep going like this, I can’t keep protecting you, trying to help you, when you won’t help yourself.”
“Then I guess it’s over.” She said it so quietly, then, like lightning, almost enjoying the shock in his eyes as she did it, she grabbed his right arm with both her hands and with all her strength she yanked him away from the door. He stumbled, falling sideways against the living-room door,landing on the floor. Venetia had pulled the front door open and run to her car. She was blazing down Stradbrook Road before he’d even picked himself up off the floor.
And now she’s standing in Susan’s kitchen. With Susan’s baby in her hands.
98
Maeve
Thursday
Maeve feels the faintest sense of breath on her face. A looming presence. Someone leaning over her. She tries to move and pain sears through her shoulder, her left leg. She bites down on her lip, tasting blood, then forces her eyes open. Where is she? It takes another moment for her eyes to focus. The face swims in front of her then firms into shape.
Cody Geary.
What is he doing and why is she here? The car. It comes back. The sound of a car. An engine revving. Speeding up. And then shock and pain and darkness. Cody is saying her name, and now he’s saying something else. He’s speaking to someone on his phone, calling an ambulance. That’s good. That’s a good thing to do. She lets out a slow breath. A hand on hers. Cody’s hand. Something else. Something glinting in the streetlight’s glow, a few feet away. It looks like a silver cat…a silver jaguar. Cody is murmuring. Was Cody driving the car? Now another voice. A woman’s voice. Shouting.
“Get away from her!”
Cody is yanked back, and someone else is hunkering down. Familiar scent. Bright print. Moira Fitzpatrick.
“Oh, Maeve, my god, what did he do to you? I’ll stay with you, don’t worry. I’ll call the guards and an ambulance and your mum.”
Cody’s voice. Distant. Telling her he’s already called an ambulance.
“A bit late for good deeds now,” she hisses. “Maeve, I’ve got you. And he won’t get away with it this time.”
Maeve registers the sound of a siren and drifts off to black.
99
Nika
Thursday
Nika feels like she’s in an American teen movie, throwing pebbles at Ariana’s bedroom window, but she’s running low on options. She’s messaged her six times in the last four minutes, and Ariana’s left her on Delivered. Eventually, there’s a twitch in the bedroom curtains, then moments later, Ariana opens the front door.
“Hey,” Nika says, eyes downcast like she does when she’s in trouble with her dad. “I wanted to apologize properly for seeing Zach behind your back. I should never have done it. I’m so sorry.” She looks up now, under her lashes. This has to work, it always works. And Ariana didn’t even really like Zach; she’d said so. She’d said Nika was welcome to him.
Ariana stares at her.
“Could I come in, so we can talk properly?” She just needs to get into the house. To snap some pics, to be there for a while. To see Ariana’s parents, ideally. Someone who can vouch for her if this ever comes back on her. She’s fairly sure Maeve couldn’t have recognized her—the headlights would have blinded her—but still…
