“It was mean.” I stand on wobbling legs. “I’m going to bed.”
I walk towards the door and as my foot is about to cross the threshold, Nathan adds, “I might be mean, but at least I’m not cruel. What happened back then wasn’t my fault.”
I turn back to face my stepson. Staring at him and proving just how cruel I can be, I say, “If it wasn’t your fault, then whose was it?”
* * *
The next morning,I am up early and ready to get to the bottom of things. I have to find Claire and prove that I have nothing to do with her disappearance.
I sit in the kitchen reviewing the evidence on my laptop, patio doors open wide, fresh coffee in hand. I have written out the key dates and am examining the photos and videos of her the day she was spotted on Seeley Moor and outside my front door. She really does look terrible, her hair fuzzed up, her clothes missing, dirty and wounded. But who hurt her?
Then I wonder, maybe I’ve been seeing this all wrong.
Maybe by coming here she didn’t want to hurt me, maybe she wanted my help. Was she trying to find me and seek refuge? What was she afraid of?
I need to know more about her life and what or who she might be running from. I need to know what she knew about me and her adoption, because she certainly knew how to find me. I click onto Facebook, go to Janice Tideswell’s page, and fire off a friend request along with a quick DM.
Hi. Sorry to bother you. I was wondering if we could meet. I have a few more questions about my sister.
Janice was helpful before, and now I have so many more questions. Hopefully she’ll be able to answer at least some of them.
“What are you doing?”
I glance up from the laptop as Nathan saunters into the kitchen and fills the kettle.
“A bit of internet sleuthing,” I say.
Nathan stares at the kettle. “Why haven’t you got a hot water tap? This is taking forever.”
“I like it,” I say. “I get little jobs done while it’s boiling. Or work out a plot hole.”
He scoffs. “Except for that plot hole inMurder at Rocky Gorge.Why didn’t Marigold just use the boat?”
I sigh, finishing the last sip of my coffee before I reply. “Because I forgot about the boat and so did my editors. Since when did you read the books?”
He rolls his eyes. “Since Jessica made me read them to Kiri. She said I should get to know you better.”
“Oh,” I say. “That’s… nice.”
I can’t help but think he’s trying to get into my good graces by mentioning the books. I hate that my mind immediately goes to a dark place, though what he actually saidwasa criticism.
Nathan grabs the kettle and pours water over a teabag. “So, what kind of sleuthing are you doing? Am I still helping you?”
I hesitate. I asked for his help while I was vulnerable in hospital. Now he’s standing here in front of me, do I really want to involve him?
“Not a lot,” I say, evading his second question. “Claire doesn’t have much of an internet presence. At least not one that’s accessible. So, I thought I might add her neighbour as a Facebook friend.”
“What’s that going to do?” he asks.
I shrug. “It won’t hurt to poke around a little.”
He sips his tea. “Good for you. You’re not taking this lying down, are you?”
“Of course not,” I say.
He whistles his way out of the kitchen and into the lounge and I hear the TV go on.
I open a new tab and Google Claire’s name for any updates. Claire’s disappearance has now made the national news. And so have I, it seems. My heart plummets as I see my name among the headlines.
