The Girl Before(80)

“And then there’s the really important thing. What were those cameras doing when Emma was killed? They must have recorded what happened.”

He hesitates. “The FR feeds were offline that day. A technical problem. It was unfortunate timing, that’s all.”

“You really can’t expect me—” I begin just as the door swings open, propelled with some force by Edward Monkford’s arm as he strides into the room.

“What are you doing here?” he demands of me. I’ve never seen him so angry.

“She wants the data from One Folgate Street relating to the Matthews woman,” Thiel says.

Edward flushes with fury. “This has gone far enough. I want you out, do you hear?” For a moment I’m not sure if he means out of his office or One Folgate Street, but then he adds, “We’re invoking the penalty notice. You have five days to leave the house.”

“You can’t do that.”

“You’re in breach of at least a dozen restrictive covenants. I think you’ll find we can.”

“Edward…what are you so frightened of? What are you trying to hide?”

“I’m not frightened of anything. I’m pissed off at constantly having my wishes ignored by you. To be honest, I actually find it amusing that you accuse me of being obsessed with Emma Matthews when clearly you’re the one who’s fixated on her. Why couldn’t you just leave it? Why do you care so much?”

“You gave me her necklace,” I say, equally angry. “If you’re so innocent, why did you have her necklace repaired and then give it to me?”



He looks at me as if I’m crazy. “I gave you both similar necklaces because I happen to like the color of those pearls, that’s all.”

“Did you kill her, Edward?” I hear myself asking. “Because it certainly looks as if you did.”

“Where do you get this from?” he says incredulously. “Who puts these crazy ideas in your head?”

“I want an answer.” I’m trying to sound calm, but my voice is shaking.

“Well, you’re not going to get one. Now get the hell out.”

Thiel says nothing. Edward stares furiously at my bump as I get up to leave.





NOW: JANE

I have nowhere to go except back to One Folgate Street. But I enter it with trepidation now, like a bloodied fighter stepping back into the ring for yet another round.

The feeling of being watched is all-pervasive now. The feeling of being played with too. Small things around the house randomly malfunction. Electrical sockets choose not to work. Lights fade up and down. When I type “one bed flats” into Housekeeper’s search engine, it takes me to a site about women who lie to their partners. When I turn on the sound system, it selects Chopin’s funeral march. The burglar alarm goes off, startling me.

“Stop being so f*cking childish!” I shout at the ceiling.

The silence of the empty rooms is the only, mocking reply.

I get my phone.

“Simon,” I say when he answers. “If that offer still stands, I would like you to come around tonight, after all.”

“Jane, what’s wrong?” he says, instantly concerned. “You sound frightened.”

“Not frightened, exactly,” I lie. “Just a little freaked out by this place. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. But it would be good to see you anyway.”





NOW: JANE

“I came as soon as I could,” Simon says, dumping a bag by the door. “That’s the advantage of being freelance, I guess. I can work from here just as easily as from a Starbucks.” He looks at my face and stops. “Jane, are you sure you’re all right? You look terrible.”

“Simon…I’ve got an apology to make. All this time you’ve been telling me that Edward killed Emma and I’ve been dismissing it. But now I’m starting to think…” I hesitate, unwilling even to put this into words. “I’m starting to think you may be right.”

“No need to apologize, Jane. But can you tell me what’s changed your mind?”

I tell him about the cameras and my confrontation with Thiel. “And then I came straight out and accused Edward of giving me the same necklace as Emma,” I add.

Simon stares at me, suddenly tense. “How did he take that?”

“He said they were two different necklaces.”

“Could he prove it?”

“He didn’t even try to. He just threw me out.” I shrug resignedly. “I have five days to find somewhere else.”

“You can stay with me for a while, if you want.”

“Thank you. But really, I’ve imposed on you quite enough.”



“We will stay friends, though, Jane, won’t we? Leaving here won’t mean you just forget all about me?”

“Of course not,” I say, a little embarrassed by his neediness. “Anyway, now I have a moral dilemma.” I gesture at the table, where my necklace lies curled in its clamshell case. “All this stuff about necklaces made me look up how much it’s worth. It turns out to be around three thousand pounds.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Which would be a pretty hefty deposit on a flat.”