Lying Beside You (Cyrus Haven #3)(35)

‘He’s not very happy with me just now.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

That’s the one thing I like about Veejay. When I choose to avoid a subject, she doesn’t pressure me, or act like I’m wasting her time.

‘His brother is getting out of the loony bin,’ I say.

‘It’s a secure psychiatric hospital.’

‘Whatever.’

‘Does that concern you?’

‘Yeah. He killed his entire family – everyone except Cyrus.’

‘That was a long time ago.’

‘If I had a brother who did that, I wouldn’t be visiting him in hospital, or letting him back into my life, but Cyrus is acting like everything is OK.’

‘Maybe he forgives him.’

‘Yeah. Right.’ My sarcasm has no effect on her. ‘What if Elias is faking it?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Being better. I mean, I once pretended I could hear voices. I was hoping they’d send me to some posh country house where I’d get to do art classes and make pottery and play croquet.’

Veejay smiles. ‘How did that work for you?’

‘I spent a night on suicide watch in a psych ward, hearing teenage girls moaning and screaming. Some were being force-fed. Others had bandaged wrists. Next morning, I told them the voices had gone.’

I don’t know why I’m telling her any of this, but it’s the truth.

‘Is this about Cyrus’s brother or about your sister?’ asks Veejay.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You lost your family and you found Cyrus. Maybe you’re worried that he will get close to Elias, and you will feel left out.’

‘No. I don’t care.’

Veejay hears the harshness in my answer. She’s playing devil’s advocate, trying to push my buttons to see how I react. She wants me to be kinder to people, and by extension, gentler on myself.

‘You’re not a bad person, Evie,’ is one of her favourite lines, but she has no idea what I’ve done. I don’t deserve to be happy. I don’t deserve to be loved. If I was a good person, I’d want Cyrus to find someone to love. The truth is, I don’t. I created a dating profile for him, but I did everything I could to push the women away who swiped right. None of them were good enough.

‘What if they’re wrong about Elias?’ I ask. ‘What if he’s not better?’

‘He deserves the benefit of the doubt.’

‘No. There shouldn’t be any doubt. They have to be certain. I don’t want Cyrus to get hurt.’

‘I’m sure he can look after himself.’

I snort, ‘He can’t look after a dog.’

‘I thought Poppy was your dog.’

‘She is, but that’s not the point.’





23


Cyrus


Melody Sterling is seated in the mortuary waiting area with a tote bag resting on her lap. She reacts to every movement and sound like a frightened animal that has wandered into a clearing. Her husband is with her. Unshaven and solidly built, he has a round, flushed face with a sun-damaged nose. Calluses on his hands.

‘Call me Dean,’ he says, delivering a crushing handshake which feels like a test. I try not to flinch. I fail.

‘The post-mortem has just finished,’ I tell Melody. ‘They won’t be long.’

‘They cut her up,’ says Dean, screwing up his face.

Melody goes pale.

‘They’re gathering evidence,’ I reply.

Dean cocks his head to one side and begins clicking his fingers. ‘I remember you. We were at school together. Chilwell Comprehensive.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t recall you.’

‘Yeah. I was a few years ahead. You’re that kid whose family got killed by your brother – the schizo.’

Melody suggests he be quiet. He ignores her.

‘You found the bodies, yeah? That must have been rough. I heard it was a bloodbath.’

‘I don’t think he wants to talk about it,’ says Melody.

‘What are you now – some sort of a shrink?’

‘A forensic psychologist.’

‘Like Cracker?’

He’s talking about a BBC series from the nineties. Robbie Coltrane played a chain-smoking, gambling-addicted psychologist who helped police solve crimes.

‘I’m nothing like Cracker,’ I say, embarrassed for Melody more than myself.

‘What happened to your brother?’ asks Dean. ‘Is he still banged up?’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank God for that, eh?’

He retakes his seat and picks up a glossy fashion magazine, leafing through the pages, looking at the models. Almost as an afterthought he asks when they ‘get the house back’.

‘Pardon?’

‘Rohan’s house. I left some tools there. I wanted to pick them up.’

‘Dean retiled the bathrooms,’ explains Melody.

‘It’s a crime scene,’ I say.

‘Yeah, but that won’t be forever,’ says Dean. ‘I need my tile cutter and laser level. Won’t take me a minute to get them.’