‘You and I have life insurance, right? Which is all well and good. But because I have an existing medical condition, it’s capped at £110,000. But at work, all staff are insured for up to £340,000 if they die on work premises, and that includes the gardens, the grounds or in the car park. I rechecked the policy to make sure. That money will be you and Tate’s future.’
Claire shook her head. ‘I can’t just drive you to your office as you’re dying and dump you there! It’s a ridiculous idea.’
‘No, it’s a sensible idea. It’ll make no difference to me, Claire, I’ll be unconscious, dying or dead anyway. This way I know you two will have security. You can’t afford the mortgage on your own especially when you go down to statutory maternity pay. Please, just think about it.’
Claire knew that what he was saying was true, but it sat awkwardly with her. Ben must have sensed it because he didn’t mention it again. Four weeks later, he was dead.
The morning of the hijack, it was his failure to turn off the alarm clock that made her jab him in the ribs to wake him. He didn’t move. There was no response when she said his name, or pushed him, shook him, rolled him over or begged him to wake up. Multiple times she ran her fingers across Ben’s body searching for a heartbeat or a pulse but he was still. When her fingers cupped his chin and stroked his cheeks, he was cold and hisskin was already stiffening. It was too late. She held her protruding stomach, partly for comfort, partly out of fear their baby might vanish just as suddenly as his father.
As the early morning light gleamed through the bedroom shutters, Claire reached for her phone and dialled two nines. She hesitated before pressing it a third time, reflecting on Ben’s instructions for when this moment arrived. Then she collapsed into an armchair in the corner of the room, crying and racked with guilt for even considering it.
Through the thick mist of her grief, she knew that Ben was right. The extra life insurance money would pay for the completion of the house renovations, pay off their mortgage and place less pressure on her to hurry back to work after Tate’s birth. All that needed to be done was to transport Ben to his office’s car park and wait for his body to be discovered.
Pulling herself together, she dressed and chose something appropriate for Ben to wear for a working day. Her tears splashed upon his chest as she removed his T-shirt and shorts and put him in a pair of khaki-coloured chinos and a crisp white shirt. She paused to take him in one last time and couldn’t help but resent him. ‘You lied,’ she whispered. ‘You told me that thing in your head wasn’t going to beat you.’
Moving Ben to the car was a challenge as he was a bulky man. She dragged him by the arms from the bed and to the floor, then slowly across the landing and down the staircase, pausing every so often so as not to strain herself or hurt the baby. She texted the car to reverse into the garage, then pressed the tailgate button so it lowered to ground level. And with one final heave, she pushed Ben on to it. As it lifted and scooped him into the boot before shutting, she would figure out how to move him into the Passenger seat later.
Exhausted and emotional, Claire’s brain ran through what needed to be done next. She dictated notes into her phone so that she wouldn’t forget – programme the car for Ben’s office; book an Uber using a guest account; go to work; start texting Ben mid-morning. Then when she told his employers she was worried that she hadn’t heard from her husband but that her app was confirming his vehicle was parked at work, they would likely investigate and Ben would be discovered.
Claire acted the next few moments out like she would any other day so as not to arouse suspicion. She left the house through the front door, set the alarm, waved to her neighbour Sundraj and then climbed inside the car before it pulled away and along the road.
Only the Hacker had a different plan for Claire. Now, two hours later, it was unlikely that by the end of the morning, Ben’s would be the only body in the car.
At least we’ll all be together when it happens, she thought as she stroked her stomach again.
Without warning, there felt like a popping sensation inside her followed by a slow trickle of liquid down her leg. Claire assumed the baby had been resting on her bladder and putting pressure on it. But she didn’t feel the urge to urinate. Then to her horror, she understood what had happened. Her waters had broken, two months early.
The baby was on its way.
Chapter 44
Matthew returned from the fridge in the corner of the room carrying five bottles of water on a wooden tray. He placed them on the table top in front of each juror, beginning with Libby. She smiled her thank you.
‘I could do with something a lot stronger than this,’ said Muriel, unscrewing the cap and pouring it into a tall glass.
‘I assumed you were teetotal,’ said Fiona.
‘Why? Because I have a faith?’
‘Well, yes.’
‘Sending four people to their graves would be enough to turn the Pope to drink.’
Fiona comforted her colleague with a pat on the arm.
Meanwhile Libby diverted her attention towards the wall clock, acutely aware of how time was passing more swiftly now they were living under the shadow of a deadline. She focused solely on the declining seconds just to ensure the Hacker hadn’t altered the speed to pile more pressure upon them. Underneath it, Cadman and his team busied themselves with a never-ending stream of data but remained respectfully silent as the jurors debated each Passenger.
A glimpse of sunlight streaming through the tall arched windows distracted her. Libby realised it was the first time that morning she had given thought towhat would happen when this ordeal was over. She was certain to leave the room a very different woman to the one who arrived. All eight Passengers’ faces would join her brother Nicky in the rollcall of ghosts that haunted her.
Fiona cleared her throat with an exaggerated cough to gain the room’s attention and picked up her tablet. ‘Shall we move on to Sofia Bradbury?’ she asked. Seconds later, the main screen cut to a dark, blurred silhouette. ‘Where is she?’
‘I think she’s covered her camera with something,’ said Matthew, puzzled. ‘She’s hiding.’
‘Ironic, isn’t it?’ said Fiona. ‘She’s spent her life craving attention and now, when she has the biggest audience of her career, she can’t face them.’
‘Do you think she can hear us?’ asked Muriel.
‘I have no doubt the Hacker will have given her no choice but to,’ Matthew replied.
