‘Yes, to take in Iris’s car.’ Carla’s voice is a mixture of impatience and fear. ‘I asked him to do it. He had to take it in for two this afternoon. I went for a walk with Cheddar and when I got back, Olly had left with the car.’
They’re still standing in the hallway. Ash leads Carla into the kitchen. He gets her seated at the table and then pours her a glass of water. He sits down next to her. She sips from the glass, holding it in one hand while she clutches her mobile in the other.
What should they do next? Ash’s heart is pounding and he feels light-headed. He imagines Olly at the wheel of Iris’s car, thinking about handing himself in for murdering Josh and allowing himself to be distracted while he’s at the wheel. Olly is heavy-footed on the accelerator at the best of times.
He already knows Olly isn’t answering his phone. ‘Have you rung Liv?’ he asks Carla.
‘I’ve rung everyone I can think of,’ Carla says. ‘Jo rang me and she was going to ring Ian. I’ve rung Iris. She’s on her way home. And Olly, Liv and Daniel aren’t answering. Daniel went out for a bike ride. I couldn’t get hold of Jo again either. She’s probably on the phone to Ian.’
And with that, Carla bursts into tears. Ash puts his arm around her shoulders and pulls her in close. ‘Try not to worry,’ he says. He can hear the panic in his voice. He should take his own advice before he makes things worse. He clears his throat. ‘I’ll ring Roly.’ He wants to do something useful, but it’s the only thing he can think of to do.
‘Ash.’ Roly answers straightaway and Ash sighs with relief. He needs his best friend. And if anyone can find out what’s going on, Roly can.
‘I’m at Crooked Oak Cottage,’ Ash manages. ‘Jo rang Carla—’
‘I’m on my way to Carla’s right now,’ Roly says. Ash has loads of questions for him, but before he can ask them, Roly adds, ‘I’ll be there as soon as I can. In the meantime, can you text me the registration number of Iris’s car?’
‘Yes, but Roly …’
‘Yes?’
‘Iris isn’t in the car—’
‘Thank God for that.’
‘—Olly is.’
‘Shit.’ There’s a long pause. ‘I’m on my way,’ Roly repeats at length. ‘Try not to worry. It’s probably not even Iris’s car. Hopefully, this is all a false alarm.’
Ash manages to grunt a reply before he ends the call. Carla has to hunt out the papers for the Twingo so he can send Roly the plate number.
It’s only when he has sent the message that he remembers Carla mentioning Yvonne in the voicemail message she left him. What the hell does Yvonne have to do with anything? He has no idea why this has suddenly come back to him now, but he is engulfed by a wave of intense fear.
Chapter 43
Ian
NOW
Ian swears as a tractor appears out of nowhere. He brakes hard and almost skids into it because the ground is wet from the rain. He has to reverse several metres to a lay-by to let the farmer past. Ian has lived in North Devon for most of his adult life, and he’s used to navigating his way along these narrow, tortuous lanes, bounded by tall hedges that conceal any oncoming traffic, including wily tractors. He’s used to the rain – sure, it rains a lot in Derry, too. But he needs to drive more slowly. Especially around these bends and especially in the pouring rain. He needs to get to Crooked Oak Cottage in one piece or he’ll be of no use to the Ashfords at all. Another car crash is the last thing anyone needs today. The tractor passes, the farmer raising his hand in thanks.
Ian has already spoken to DC Ward – Gail. She’s trying to find out more about the accident. Jo couldn’t give him the make and model of Yvonne’s car when he asked her (she only knew it was an SUV), so Ian is clinging to the hope that his wife has misidentified the car that crashed on the link road, too. It’s probably not Iris’s car at all, just as he told Ash. It might even turn out to be a different colour, knowing Jo. Until he has more info, he’s trying to think about something else (anything else) so that he doesn’t give in to paranoia. North Devon, his family, Derry. He looks out of the window, all around him, trying to distract himself. Cows in that field; two people walking their dog across another.
It’s not working. He’s stressed out; there’s no denying that. He glances at the speedometer and eases up on the accelerator, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. He’s never needed a cigarette more in his life. Christ, even a roll-up would do. How long is it going to take Gail to ring him back?
No sooner has he had that thought than his ringtone blares out through the car speakers. The caller ID comes up on the dashboard infotainment screen. He reaches out and taps the green button, far harder than necessary.
‘Hi, Ian,’ Gail says. ‘So, I’ve managed to contact an officer at the scene with the registration plate you gave me.’ She’s getting straight to the point, which Ian appreciates. ‘It’s a match for your goddaughter’s car, I’m afraid.’
Ian swears.
‘She wasn’t driving. It was a male driver.’
‘Yes,’ Ian says. ‘Her brother.’
‘Oh. Oh, dear God. I’ve got bad news, I’m afraid, Ian. The driver … um … lost his life in the accident. From what I’ve been told, he was dead before the ambulance got there. He was probably killed instantly in the crash.’
Ian doesn’t speak for several seconds. Gail says nothing for a moment either, clearly giving Ian a moment to digest that piece of information as best he can. He knows she has tried to cushion it as best she can. Olly is dead, but he didn’t suffer. But it’s impossible to sugar-coat something like this.
