He wipes a hand over his face. ‘It seems they don’t have enough evidence. There’s no camera covering the exact spotImogen fell from, and the solicitor thinks that any transfer of fibres from Immy’s clothes to Evie’s wouldn’t stand up due to their close acquaintance, so…’
‘Thank God.’ My heart starts beating again. ‘What about the note? They initially thought it was suicide, didn’t they?’
Jack nods sadly. ‘It just said “I’m sorry”, apparently. They’re speculating as to whether she might have been interrupted while she was writing it.’
A note to whom? I wonder. Her mother? Evie? Why wouldn’t she have texted? Unless it was to someone she didn’t dare text for fear of being found out. I try hard not to let my mind linger on Jack. ‘What about the trainers, though?’ I ask. ‘They obviously wanted those for a reason.’
‘They found Nike trainers in the flat Natalia was staying in, after checking out your statement about the unfortunate landlord.Christ.’ Jack breathes in sharply. ‘How could she have done that? The man was a piece of shit, by all accounts, putting his tenants at risk, but to have left him just sitting there for the flies to feast on. Who in their right mind would do that?’
I don’t answer, glancing away instead as the pure primal fear I’d felt that day, the obnoxious odours come back to me, causing my stomach to heave.
Jack walks across to me. ‘I’m sorry,’ he says throatily. ‘That was tactless of me. Are you okay?’
I’m a long way from that, I want to tell him. ‘I will be,’ I assure him instead. I fought my way from the bottom of the darkest pit. I will get through this. I don’t want to do it on my own, want desperately for him to make things all right, but if I have to, then so be it. ‘How’s Evie?’ I ask, partly to change the subject, partly because she’s my concern right now.
‘Not great,’ he says with a heavy sigh. ‘She’s going to need professional help to even begin to process any of this.’
‘But not from Jemma,’ I comment, unsure whether he even knows that I know.
‘Shit,’ he curses, his gaze hitting the floor. His eyes are filled with deep remorse as they come back to mine. ‘No,’ he says awkwardly, and hesitates. ‘I should have told you. I don’t know why I didn’t. I just…’ He stops as the door opens behind him.
‘Mr Conley, Evie’s good to go now,’ DI Blake says as she comes in. ‘We may need to speak to her again,’ she adds, ‘so if you could stay local.’
‘Hopefully not, if you do your job properly,’ Jack replies acerbically.
‘Far be it from me to give you parental advice, but you might want to park any grievances you have and concentrate on getting Evie the emotional help she’s obviously needed for some time.’ Giving him an arch look, DI Blake imparts her advice anyway.
A small tic goes in Jack’s cheek. I can sense his annoyance, but he doesn’t react, conceding the point with a short nod instead. I can’t help but notice the flicker of guilt that crosses his face as he does. I suspect he’s well aware that Evie needed help long before the tragedy in Antigua and the catastrophic chain of events that followed.
SEVENTY-TWO
After driving home in near silence, we’re approaching the house when Evie asks, ‘Where’s Lina?’
She didn’t refer to her as Nan, I note, and I guess her emotions will now be utterly confused about her.
‘She’s being checked over at the hospital,’ I answer. Jemma had taken her, rather than wait for a second ambulance. Jack had thanked her as we rushed out, but I couldn’t bring myself to speak to her. ‘I’m going to call to see how she is. Do you want me to ask them to pass anything on to her?’
‘No. I’ll talk to her sometime, but not yet.’ Evie pushes her door open, jumping out almost before we’ve pulled up.
I climb quickly out after her. ‘Are you all right, Evie?’ I call as she marches to the front door. ‘It’s okay not to be, you know.’
‘I just need some space,’ she says, shoving her key into the lock and hurrying inside.
I follow as she heads straight to the stairs. ‘If you need to talk, Evie, I’m here. You know that, right?’ I call after her.
She falters. Then, ‘Are you two going to split?’ she asks, without looking back.
I hear the quaver in her voice and my heart bleeds for her. ‘I don’t know,’ I answer honestly. ‘But I’m here if you want me to be, I promise you.’
She answers with a small nod, then carries on up.
Sighing tiredly, I go to the kitchen. I need a drink, but definitely not tea.
Jack comes in as I’m pouring myself an orange juice. ‘Do you want one?’ I ask him.
He eyes the glass. ‘I could use something stronger,’ he says wistfully. ‘Maybe I’ll give it a miss, though,’ he adds with the faintest of smiles.
‘Probably a good idea.’ I walk past him to close the door. ‘We need to talk,’ I say.
