He held Ben’s gaze. ‘There is more to this than you know. How fast can you read?’
Ben snorted quietly. ‘That’s the first time in fifteen years you’ve ever wanted to know that.’
Aleksey handed over his phone with the downloaded diary. He took the wheel of the boat for once, and they headed out to sea, towards Light Island. It was cold when they rounded the lea of the land and entered the deep sea lanes. There were one or two large container ships making their slow way through the channel, possibly heading for Bristol or Milford Haven. Aleksey felt once more a sense of just how fragile his little bubble of perfection was. Oily had said about deathno one really knows. Well, the old keeper knew now, Aleksey presumed. He did not want to join him in that great reveal.
It got choppy and the little screen in Ben’s hand bounced, illuminating his face in passing flashes of blueish light.
Ben had scan-read to Christmas Day, the vital part of Jenna’s story, by the time they saw the cliffs of Light Island coming into view under intermittent moonlight. He lifted his head. ‘I don’t believe this. Jenna saw the queen and her husband walking together at Guillemot House…and then Oily saw the same man kill Jenna? What the fuck is going on, Nik? Do you think it’s just a bizarre coincidence? I mean, you used to give Kate your coat like that, didn’t you? I can remember you doing it. When it was cold, you’d take off your fucking coat and put it over her shoulders! And you’re tall! I mean, coincidence?’
Aleksey nodded. He’d had exactly the same recollection—a snowy night walking across a car park, knowing that Kate had betrayed him, but still thinking to share his coat with her, his warmth, his protection and his security.
‘I think whatever Jenna discovered or saw on La Luz was to do with this visit of the queen with this man. Ben, what if it wasn’t her husband? The girls didn’t seem to know him, didn’t recognise him.’
Ben toyed with the phone, staring out at the approaching island. ‘No. Jenna said they brought all those servants with them, remember? Then there’s the housekeeper and the cook. You said yourself that nothing escapes royal servants. I don’t think they’d overlook the queen having a weekend away with another bloke, do you?’
Aleksey smiled. ‘No. You’re right. When I was living at Barton, it sometimes felt as if there was no privacy at all—I would dream of something and in the morning it would be laid out on my bed for me.’
‘Huh. I’m surprised any servant survived your dreams.’
The smile turned into a smirk. ‘They improved a great deal the last few years I was there for some reason. But you’re right—clearly Jenna and Lily saw the queen and her husband. But do you see what this means about Jenna’s murderer?’
‘Bloody hell, but it still doesn’t explain why. Okay…what if Jenna saw him with another woman? One of the servants. She said they all went to Kittiwake. What if she saw him with one of them one night? She liked walking around the island, didn’t she? But he knew she’d seen him? People kill for less. You’ve killed for less.’
‘It’s possible. Remember, I lived this same scenario when I was in the family—if it had come out thatbelovedwas having an affair with Phillipa, all would have been lost to him. That would be doubly so for the queen’s husband. Maybe he suspected someone saw him, but didn’t know who, and by the time he discovered it was Jenna they’d dismissed her, and so he didn’t have her readily to hand. Once she’d left Guillemot, he had no idea how to find her—until a chance stroll around the island on another visit, and there she was, on the headland, unmistakeable with her flowing red hair. She’d returned to him. He went up to her, chatted, asked her name perhaps to confirm it was her, maybe even asked her what she’d thought she’d seen, and then he killed her. No, it doesn’t work, does it? Why would that worry anyone now?Belovedis divorced from his first wife and remarried, and that appears to be more than acceptable. I don’t think rumours of his father sleeping with a servant sixty years ago would raise an eyebrow anywhere these days.’
Ben stood and came beside him. ‘Well that applies to everything, doesn’t it? I can’t think of anything Jenna could have discovered that’s bad enough for all this to kick off again now—not to kill people over. But whatever this secret was, it’s pretty obvious Jenna told William.’
‘Yes, I think it’s certain she told him—but inthe lettersOily said she wrote to him.That’swhy he was so panicked for her and knew she might be in danger. That’s why he went to get her and the baby.’
‘So William keeps the letters and hides them in the lighthouse like Oily said, taking them out and reading them sometimes—oh, my God, Nik! Billy knew where they were. Didn’t Oily say they couldn’t get anything past him! He found them and took them with him with his other stuff when they put him in the asylum.’
‘Yes. He can’t read, but he would have treasured them as they were important to William. And then the asylum closes and he’s put out again. What if whoever took him in found the letters in his few possessions and read them, saw the significance of them and they’re now blackmailing the royals? Threatening to publish them?’
‘So they’re looking for Billy? So he can lead them to the blackmailer?’
‘Billy may keep them on him. He may have put them back in the lighthouse. These are all possibilities, and I think Simon Raiden has worked this out as well. I am fairly sure Oily told him the same things he told us, so he’s ahead of us now. He wants those letters.’
‘Shit. We’re heading for the lighthouse, aren’t we?’
Aleksey just nodded. He was concentrating. They were coming to the remains of Cathedral Arch. He motored them into the concealed harbour under the cliff, the first time he’d done so, and realised once more, with a sense of wonder, just how incredible Billy’s seamanship skills were. He could not get the timing right, and they bashed onto the rocks a couple of times, severely scraping the paintwork of the little motorboat they’d hired.
They knew immediately as they came through the trapdoor that something was badly wrong.
***
Chapter Forty-one
The main door to the lighthouse was standing wide and the floor was littered with broken objects, which appeared to have been thrown down from above.
They went up cautiously, backs to the curving wall. It was amazing how much confidence a sword gave, but it would be useless against a gun, and Aleksey did not think this man hunting Billy would hesitate to shoot if he had one.
The place had been entirely ransacked. All the lockers were ripped open, machinery smashed, the galley had been torn apart as if a fearsome storm had invaded its enemy’s domain and finally had its way with the obstinate lighthouse. Every pot had been smashed, every shelf swept onto the floor, the table overturned, chairs broken. There was rage here, fury, an unleashing of wrath that spoke of malice. One pan was still slowly spilling out its contents, and Aleksey sensed the man was close, possibly waiting for them silently just beyond the next curve. Ben picked up the picture Molly had left for Billy, which was on the floor ripped almost in two. His brows lowered as he looked at it, then he folded it up and put it in his pocket.
The bunkroom was unrecognisable. The little red record player had been stomped on, the mattresses slashed and disembowelled over the floor. They continued on and up, their tension mounting with each step.
The destruction seemed worse at the very top to Aleksey—more malicious. The lamp, which could not have been hiding anything, had been kicked or hit with something, for its delicate, beautiful diamond lenses lay shattered beneath their feet.
But the man who had done all this destruction was not here.
