The idea popped into her head, unbidden. She shook her head once. No. She couldn’t tell him. That was stupid. It was too late. He’d only try to stop her now. But then, when she looked at his open face, she felt her insides wrench with a loneliness that made her wonder if maybe, in fact, that was exactly what she wanted.
‘Poor Ellie,’ Falk said. ‘Christ, we were supposed to be her friends and we all let her down.’
Gretchen looked at her hands. ‘I know, I feel guilty about it too. But try not to beat yourself up too much. Other people must have suspected and turned a blind eye. You were a kid. You did the best you could. And you were always good to her.’
‘Not good enough, though. Whatever she felt she was going through, it was happening right under our noses and we barely even noticed.’
The kitchen was comfortable and quiet and Falk felt like he would never have the energy to drag his heavy limbs up and leave. Gretchen gave a small shrug and put her hand on his. Her palm was warm.
‘It’s a lesson we’ve all had to learn the hard way. There was a lot going on back then. It wasn’t all about Luke.’
Ellie looked up at Aaron, and he smiled. Tell him, the little voice in her head whispered, but she shut it down. Stop. It was decided. She would tell nobody.
‘I’ve got to go.’ Ellie started to move away, then paused. The thought of what was to come sent a wave of recklessness crashing over her. Before she really knew what she was doing she stepped in, leaned over his box of plants and kissed Aaron lightly on the lips. They felt dry and warm. She stepped back, bumping her hip painfully on a desk in her rush.
‘OK. See you round.’ Her voice sounded false to her own ears and she didn’t wait for his response.
As Ellie spun around to the classroom door, she nearly jumped in fright. Leaning up against the doorframe, watching without making a sound, stood Luke Hadler. His face was unreadable. Ellie took a breath and forced her features into a smile.
‘See you, Luke,’ she said as she edged passed him.
He didn’t smile back.
Chapter Thirty
Falk sat on his bed with a dozen sheets of paper spread out in front of him. Below, the pub was quiet. The last patrons had left hours ago. Falk stared at his notes on the case. He scrawled connecting lines back and forth until he ended up with a tangled cobweb and a bunch of dead ends. He took a fresh sheet of paper and tried again. Same result. He picked up his mobile and dialled.
‘I think Ellie Deacon was being abused by her father,’ he said when Raco answered.
‘What’s that? Hang on.’ The voice on the other end was sleepy. The line went muffled and Falk could hear a muted conversation. Rita, Falk guessed. He looked at his watch. It was later than he thought.
A minute passed before Raco’s voice came back on. ‘You still there?’
‘Sorry, I didn’t notice the time.’
‘Never mind, what was that about Ellie?’
‘Just something Gretchen I were talking about before. About Ellie being unhappy. Not just unhappy, miserable. I’m sure Mal Deacon was abusive.’
‘Physically? Sexually?
‘I don’t know. Maybe both.’
‘Right,’ Raco said. There was silence.
‘Deacon doesn’t have an alibi for the afternoon the Hadlers were killed.’
Raco sighed heavily down the line. ‘Mate, he’s in his seventies with mental problems. He may be a bastard, but he’s a doddery old one.’
‘So? He can still hold a shotgun.’
‘So,’ Raco snapped, ‘I think your view on Deacon is coloured by the fact you hate his guts for what happened to you over twenty years ago.’
Falk didn’t reply.
‘Sorry,’ Raco said. He yawned. ‘I’m tired. We’ll talk tomorrow.’ He paused. ‘Rita says hello.’
‘Hello back. And sorry. ’Night.’
