Finding Grace(78)

She couldn’t possibly know. She couldn’t! Lax morals were one thing, but if she knew a girl had died there, surely she’d have gone to the police a long time ago?

I felt like I was overheating; being so near the fire was going to literally cook me if I didn’t take off my coat. I wriggled my arms out and slipped it from my shoulders.

She waited until I became still again before speaking.

‘Although we didn’t live there, we spent a lot of time at the house during the week. Harold would do the maintenance jobs, which were never-ending, and I’d dust and vacuum the common areas.’

Stefan’s voice rang in my head as if he was standing right next to me again.

We’ll keep out of the lounge area; that nosy old battleaxe is cleaning in there.

‘One day it came to our attention that the students were talking about some kind of incident that had happened upstairs. They were joking and laughing about it in the communal lounge, but Harold became concerned when he heard reference to an awful crime having taken place.’

I tried to pick up my cup as a small barrier against her incisive glare, but my hand was shaking so much, I had to put it down again.

‘Stefan killed that girl. It had nothing to do with me, I—’

‘Hear me out.’ She put up a hand and I fell silent.

I couldn’t cope with this, with her knowing. I couldn’t live without my children, possibly go to prison… It would be better for all concerned if…

‘We confronted the students, threatened them with calling the police, and that caused even more hilarity. Finally, someone explained. Apparently, Stefan, the student who’d been with us the longest – he was older than all the others and had a controlling influence in the house – had staged a mock suffocation to persuade a young student not to turn him in to the police.’

I stared at her.

‘The supposed victim – Rhonda, I believe her name was – was his partner in drug-dealing activities. They acted out the murder to fool the young student into believing that she had just witnessed a brutal act. Stefan took photographs of her in the room with the “body”, and said he’d implicate her in the crime if she blew the whistle on his so-called business activities. One of the tenants even told us they’d done it before!’

‘But… the body…’ I said faintly.

‘We went upstairs to the scene of this dreadful joke, and the room was spotless. No sign of anything amiss at all. A week or so later, Rhonda came and apologised to us. She said it had all got out of hand and she was sorry we’d had to hear about it the way we did. Of course, we put them both out anyway. It was a step too far.’

A charge surged through me. The muscles between my neck and shoulders cramped, and I felt suddenly, overwhelmingly tired. Completely devoid of energy.

‘The young student who’d witnessed the supposed murder ran away, they say, dropped out of university. I caught sight of her once, at the house. It would be enough to send someone crazy, believing she was party to a killing.’ Barbara reached for my shaking hand. ‘But she never was, you see. That young woman’s conscience should be clear. It’s the only gift I can give to you in this terrible time you’re going through, dear.’

I stumbled out of the house, half running, half falling into my car.

‘Your coat!’ Barbara shouted after me. ‘You forgot your coat!’

But I couldn’t go back. I just couldn’t.

I started the car. At the end of the lane, I pulled over and opened the window. Dragged in a lungful of cold air before making a concerted effort to push it from my mind.



I still can’t process what she’s told me. Can it really be true that Rhonda never died? That Stefan had invited me over not to try and explain his way out of the drug dealing, but to frame and then blackmail me into not reporting his activities to the police?

Involvement in a university drug ring is one thing, but why would Rhonda agree to be involved in such a sick stunt? And where is Rhonda now?

If it is true that she wasn’t killed, then one enormous burden has been lifted from me.

But that doesn’t change the fact I have another terrible secret.





Fifty-Six





Wednesday morning





I’ve had an ongoing battle with myself all night long.

Yet again, life has presented me with a massive choice. If I involve the police and they conduct their investigation as cautiously and slowly as they have so far in Grace’s disappearance, something awful could happen to my daughter. I know Stefan O’Hara and the police don’t plus, I’m not tied up in knots ticking procedural boxes and following a certain order of process. In my opinion that gives me an enormous advantage in dealing with the situation myself.

Conversely, I could forever regret my decision in not involving the police.

Sixteen years ago, I ran away. Ran away from responsibility and my own power. I put my fate in the hands of others.

No more. From now on, I’ll run my own life and face up to the consequences.

I log back in to the email account.

10.30 a.m. today. Do not tell another soul.



I’m feeling low, Lucinda. Very low. If I decide that life isn’t worth living, I may just take her with me. Tread carefully.