Her Perfect Family(72)

‘But we were so careful. The hire car. Surely no one knows where we are.’

Matthew pauses. Sally’s right. They were incredibly careful and it should be fine.

Should be.

‘My gut says it’s fine but have a think and let me know how you feel about it. I’ll talk to Mel after we’ve processed the scene. It’s a bit hectic right now. I’ll have to go. How’s our princess?’

‘I’ll send you a picture. You promise you’ll be careful? And keep that jacket on.’

‘I promise. Love you.’

He hangs up and is about to put the phone back in his pocket when a ping signals a text. He opens it. A picture of Amelie, beaming on the beach – the bright red bucket in one hand, the yellow spade in the other.

From Sally: Be careful! We love you. x

He’ll book the security. Sod it. He’ll just book the bloody security and tell Sally that Mel insisted. Sorry, love. Procedure.

Matthew clenches the phone in his hand to feel the connection, all the while watching Mel on the drive of the house, talking to two of the uniformed officers. A huddle of neighbours just beyond the cordon is being approached by a reporter from the media car. Here we go, Matthew thinks – his brain sucked back from Cornwall. From the beach. From Amelie and Sally. He scans the scene, still gripping the phone as he looks up and down the road, checking for CCTV cameras, trying to process the surprising turn in this case before he gets a chance to properly talk to Mel. See what she thinks. So have they got it all wrong? Is this not about Alex or Laura?

Alex is still in custody and how the hell would Laura even know about Gemma and this professor?

So is this actually more straightforward? The jealous rage of a betrayed wife. Did Sam’s wife find out about Gemma? Was it simply all too much with the pregnancy?

But would a jealous wife take a gun to a cathedral and shoot someone in broad daylight? Would she? Could she?

Matthew thinks again of the body in the bedroom. That smashed-in eye socket. The evidence of white-hot rage. Then he calls up the image of the holiday photograph beside the bed. The smiling face of the petite Lily. Tanned and holding up her glass of wine glinting in the sunlight.

He’s not wondering if she could be capable of this. The heavy bookend in her hand. Smashing. Obliterating. He’s seen enough of the darker underbelly of life to park any surprise quickly; to stop questioning what ordinary people are capable of.

What he’s wondering about is the gun. If this really is down to a tortured wife, he’d expect something more domestic. A kitchen knife. A spur-of-the-moment lashing out.

But a gun? It’s always been a puzzle to everyone on this case, Matthew especially, that Gemma was shot. Firearms are the territory of drugs crime and gangs, not domestics. And how the hell would nice, middle-class Lily even get a gun?





CHAPTER 52


THE DAUGHTER – BEFORE

Discuss the theme of parental responsibility and neglect in relation to the novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelley.

Don’t know why I’m bothering with the fake essay headings. It’s official. No . . . more . . . essays. And for a blink at least, I hardly care if ‘A’ is hacking me. Guess what?

I got my first!!! Results came through about ten minutes ago and for a blissful moment it really did make me forget everything. I’ve phoned home and Mum and Dad are over the moon. Neighbours must have heard Mum shriek for miles.

It was lovely, actually. For those few brief minutes on the phone, to hear Mum so happy. I’ve only ever wanted Mum and Dad to be proud of me. But when I finished the call, I just looked at the phone and the tears came again. And it’s horrible, realising that the good feeling can’t last. I’ve had to lie to them about why I’m hanging around until the graduation ceremony. I’ve told them it’s to do with the flat lease and helping out to cover a mate’s job in a coffee shop. Felt terrible, but I just can’t face going home yet. Look at me; a complete hormonal mess already. I’m afraid I’ll just break down.

Can’t even bear to mention what’s happened with that adoption idea. Talk about a wrong steer. Not even legal, I’ve discovered since. And the advice I was being given? Very, very dodgy . . .

I’m distancing myself now but it’s all going horribly pear-shaped.

And the worst thing of all is I think I may have been wrong about who’s been targeting me. My social media and everything.

I’ve got this truly horrible feeling it might actually be someone connected with the snake’s wife. There’s been this woman watching me around the campus. Not his wife herself but someone a little bit older – and I’m starting to wonder if she’s a friend of hers or something.

I had this sort of weird feeling of being watched a few times. I put it down to yet more paranoia at first, and then this one day I caught the woman’s reflection in the glass door of the coffee shop on campus so I was able to watch her without her realising. I pretended to wave at someone inside the shop at the counter and she was definitely eyeballing me. And it’s happened again since. She carries a magazine or a paper and sits on benches and stuff. But every time I move, she moves.

I’m sure I’m not imagining it.

So if it is someone, put up to it, I mean, by ‘S’’s wife, I really don’t know what to do. Maybe I should just confront her. Walk up to her and have it out – what the hell do you think you’re doing? Why are you watching me?