Exiles (Aaron Falk #3)(74)

“It’s no trouble. But, look—” Falk hesitated. He didn’t want to ruin the atmosphere, but his conscience had been nudging him all night. “I have to tell you, Joel showed me a video earlier. Of the scene after your husband’s accident. And he sent it to me because it sounds like he—and Zara, to be fair—have been working themselves up that there’s something suspicious about what happened.”

Gemma’s eyes slid toward the house, where Joel was visible through the kitchen door, still slumped on the couch with Zara. “I see.”

“Yeah. I didn’t ask him to show me—I didn’t even know it existed. But something like that’s obviously really personal and—” Falk wished he knew her well enough to guess what she was thinking. “I didn’t want to have watched it without you knowing.”

“Okay.” Gemma twisted her beer bottle around in her hand, then took a long sip. “I know Joel did take a video. And thank you for telling me.” She met his eyes, then frowned. “So, what, he just had it to hand? There on his phone?”

“Pretty much.”

“God. Well, that certainly doesn’t seem…” Gemma shook her head. “Ideal.”

“No. But—” Falk thought about his few conversations with Joel. The way the topic often turned the same way. “Look, I don’t know him at all, obviously. But I get the impression he just really misses his dad. It could be as simple and as complex as that.”

“Yeah. He does.” Gemma moved in her chair to see her stepson better through the doors, her face carrying the same quiet dismay as when she’d found him spending his Friday night cleaning the memorial plaque. “It’s just sometimes I really worry that Joel’ll leave next year to go to uni and he’ll find it too hard to come back here again. Stepparent won’t be enough anymore, and he’s going to slip away and be out there in the world all on his own. Like our family never happened.”

She blinked hard, then twisted back and lifted her bottle to her lips.

“I’m so sorry,” she said to Falk, taking a swallow. “This is not at all your problem.”

“No, it’s okay. I get it.”

She managed a small smile. It faded fast. “I don’t really want to know, but just tell me: Is the video bad?”

“I would say yes. Not graphic. But sad.”

“I can’t watch it.”

Falk shook his head. “I really don’t think it’s necessary. Not if you don’t want to.”

“But why is Joel bringing this up now?” she asked as a murmur of conversation floated out from the house. Zara was saying something Falk didn’t catch, and Gemma tilted her head as the talk died away again. “Has something new happened?”

“I don’t know. But it didn’t sound like a new idea.”

“After the accident”—Gemma lowered her voice a little—“there were a few horrible whispers. Not most people—most people were great—but a small handful. Because the police hadn’t found the car involved, and for ages—more than five months, in the end—we couldn’t find Dean, either. And no one ever said anything to my face, but of course I still heard things.” She glanced inside, the words even softer now. “So did Joel. Stupid stuff. Like that Dean had run off with a client’s money. He was out there somewhere living the high life with—what?—whatever few thousand dollars he might have been able to skim from the fertilizer supplier or something.”

“I’m sorry, that’s hard.”

“It really was. And ridiculous.” Gemma waved a hand in disbelief and frustration. “Even practicalities aside, Dean would never have done that. And everyone here knew it, but some idiots always like to talk. Then months went by and the water levels dropped, and finally a routine trawl found Dean. His remains, anyway. They did the tests, even though it was obviously going to be him, and it was only after that that it started to feel different.” She shrugged. “For Joel as well, I thought. A little bit better, if that’s possible. To at least have had it confirmed.”

Inside the house, Falk could see Joel and Zara still absorbed in the screen.

“But Joel took some of the whispers to heart?” he said, and Gemma nodded.

“And look, it would have been impossible not to. Those months we were stuck waiting were honestly indescribable. I found it hard enough as an adult, and he was only twelve then.” She looked down at her feet for a long minute, and then, completely unexpectedly, a tiny smile crept across her face. She reached over and stroked Luna’s head. “It’s almost kind of funny where your mind goes under stress, though. In my absolute worst moments, the thing I kept coming back to again and again was that I knew Dean hadn’t left us because, honestly, he would have taken the dog.”

Falk laughed in surprise, and she did, too, shaking her head at the memory.

“I mean, Dean loved us. Of course he did.” Her face was lighter now. “But he had a real soft spot for Luna.”

The kitchen floor creaked behind them, and they both turned as Joel put his head out.

“Gemma, are you saving the rest of that lasagna, or can I have more?”

“Go ahead, you can have it,” she said, her eyes widening in amusement as he disappeared back inside. “God, I know teenage boys are always hungry, but he is always hungry.”