I nod. My stomach clenches when I think about that traumatic time.
She touches my shoulder and her expression softens. ‘There was enough evidence to suggest it was him. Testimonies from people at the party who heard him threatening her. CCTV along part of the road that captured his car. The mask he wore to the party found nearby.’
She hasn’t told me anything I didn’t already know.
‘The mask though’, I say. ‘Why would he be so careless, leaving it at the scene of the crime?’
‘It wasn’t premeditated. I think they got into an argument, and he pushed her. But his violent past, his threats to kill … it all went against him, Imogen.’ Her voice is kind as she adds, ‘I can see why you’d want to believe he didn’t do it. But he did. I’m sorry.’
I nod.
‘I’ll be in touch about the removal of the sculpture.’ She has her detective voice on again now. ‘Remember what I said. Please don’t allow anyone else down there.’
I watch as she reverses out of the driveway. I close the gate behind her.
When I’m inside I check Find My again. Josh is now back in the office. He won’t be home for a few hours, and I don’t want to stay in the house by myself.
‘Fancy a trip, Solly?’
He looks at me with his head cocked to one side.
I call a taxi and fifteen minutes later we are driving away from the villa towards Bristol.
It’s only been two weeks since we moved out of the flat, but it feels like a lifetime ago, and as I let myself in, it’s as though I’m breaking into someone else’s home. The flat is smaller than I remember and Solly looks too big for the space. I poke my nose around the kitchen door. There is a take-away Costa cup left on the breakfast bar. Solly follows me eagerly into the living room. Most of our things have been taken to the villa so I’m shocked when I see our old coffee table covered with some kind of equipment. I move further into the room. Yes, there’s Josh’s laptop next to a monitor and a small computer. I place my hand on top of the Apple Mac. Expensive. When did Josh buy all this? And with what money? I open the laptop and straight away it asks for a password. We’ve been using each other’s names as our passwords for years and I tap it in, confident he hasn’t changed it. And why would he? He wouldn’t expect me to come here. The fact he has all this here and not at the villa means he doesn’t want me to see it, so naturally my curiosity is piqued.
But nothing prepares me for what I find.
At first I assume it’s just photos of the rooms in the villa. But then I click and see that he has Camera 1. LIVING ROOM, Camera 2. BEDROOM, Camera 3. DOROTHEA’S STUDY and Camera 4. KITCHEN, and when I click on each one I can see it’s a live stream. There are also cameras in the garden, side gate and driveway. Obviously I knew about those, but I didn’t realize he’d set ones up inside the house too. He’d done all that without telling me.
The truth hits me like a punch to the gut.
Josh has been using the cameras to spy on me.
47
I think I might be sick. Josh has been spying on me.He’s been spying on me.I can’t breathe for a few seconds and then my eyes go to the monitor. I press enter on the keyboard and the monitor wakes up. He hasn’t even bothered to close it down properly and on it I can see that he’s somehow linked my phone to his. With dawning horror, I can see that all my text messages, emails and search history are mirrored onto this monitor. A fresh wave of nausea washes over me. How long has he been spying on me? He’d accused me of texting Harry. I didn’t twig at the time, but he knew because he could read the messages for himself.
I hear the turn of a key in the lock.
Fuck. He must have been alerted to the fact I’m here. I get up, wondering if I can pretend I haven’t seen all this but knowing it’s impossible. I can’t run away from this any longer. I can’t bury my head in the sand or ignore any more red flags. For once in my life I’m going to have to face up to what’s going on.
I’m going to have to be more like Dorothea.
And right at this moment I’m so angry and repulsed I could actually kill Josh.
Josh rushes into the room and his face pales as he sees me standing there. ‘I can explain,’ is the first thing he says.
I swallow down the bile in my throat.
‘I just wanted to make sure you were safe, that’s all. I promise.’
‘What? By snooping through my text messages and emails? What the hell, Josh!’
‘I had to. With Harry prowling around. It’s obvious he still fancies you, it’s obvious he …’
‘For fuck’s sake!’ I cry. ‘Stop it. This is ridiculous.’
He stops, his eyes widening. And then his expression changes from panicked to sanctimonious. He takes a deep breath. ‘You don’t need to shout, Imogen. At least give me the courtesy of hearing me out. You’re being over emotional, as usual. Jumping to conclusions. Why am I always the bad guy? You’re the one who’s being dishonest. You’re the one who pretends you’re going to London to do some shopping when you’re really going to see that stupid agent of Dorothea’s. You’re obsessed with her. Wearing her clothes and those hiking boots. And I know you’ve been researching her and lying to me about it and trying to find out who killed her. It’s really quite sad. You’re not a journalist any more, don’t you get it? You were given the boot. So why are you running around playing at being Miss Marple like some silly little girl?’
