The Family Game(58)

There was a witness. A local woman, a farmer. She heard the sound of the crash and rushed across her fields towards a pillar of smoke. As she ran, she saw a girl standing by the wreckage. She saw flames lick along the ground, from one end of the car to the other. A rush of burning heat along the tarmac like a magnesium strip, there and then gone. She watched as the car’s cabin exploded into flames, as you stood motionless beside it. The screams from inside it jolted her into a run. She ran to you but by the time she reached you the screaming had stopped.

A short sharp shock and your work was done.

Later, when questioned, she could not be sure what she had seen. Whether you had tried to put the flames out as they went past you or if you had been doing something else. When the police arrived, you did not speak.



* * *



We both know what happened that morning. And Harriet, my dear, let me tell you as an outside observer, what you did that day could never have been different.

I would have done the same. A man took your family, through his own stupidity, through his poor choices. You acted in everyone’s best interests. A child forced to do an adult’s work. Actions must have repercussions. They must.

I have seen the reports, the files. It is always important to know the type of person one is welcoming into one’s home. After all, one’s home is one’s sanctuary. I wanted to know the type of person you were, Harriet, my future daughter-in-law. I had the logistics run, and that is why you are listening to my voice now. Because that road was level, and fluid – water, gasoline – can never travel unaided, Harriet. I do not know if they suspected then, if it crossed their minds, but the facts stand.

If it were to happen today, Harriet, with the technology we have, with the procedures now in place, you would not be marrying my son. You would not be who you are in the world.

I am in absolutely no doubt that you are fully acquainted with the law in your country. I am sure you have checked in on it many times since you were a child. The minimum age of criminal responsibility in the United Kingdom is ten years old. Ten, Harriet.

You were eleven when your parents died.

And, again, I am certain you know this, but there is no statute of limitation for criminal offences in the English courts.

It must plague you. Or perhaps you reasoned that after all this time you might be safe. Well, you are safe with me. Whatever succour that might bring.

So, you see, we do have a lot in common, Harriet Reed. We both lost the ones we loved and found new ones. We would both do anything for our families.

For what it is worth, Harriet, I like you. I forgive you. We must remember, you were just a child; your parents killed and the man responsible there in front of you. It’s at moments like those that our true nature is revealed. You did a terrible thing, but you did it for your family. And I have done the same for mine.

Now, I believe, we are singing from the same hymn sheet.

As I said earlier, I would prefer it if you did not share this tape with my son, or with anyone for that matter. And I will return the favour. We both have skin in the game.

You may be asking yourself now, why is he telling me any of this? On that front, I will ask you to bear with me, Harriet. I am telling you this because I know who you are; I know what you are capable of given the right circumstances. And I have chosen you for just that reason. I will ask something of you. I will ask something of you very soon.





29 Gagged and Bound




Wednesday 21 December

The tape crackles and clicks off. Side A complete.

I sit, stricken, in the silence of the apartment.

It’s funny having your worst fear realized and the world still spinning. A sigh shudders from me and with it something dislodges deep within me.

A wave of jumbled emotion erupts, over-leaping itself, bursting up and out. Warm tears roll down my face, the taste of salt hitting my lips, because this is the first time anyone has articulated what happened that morning. What happened to me. What I did. And why. A tightness held for twenty years begins to loosen.

I know I should feel shame, dread, fear – and in part I do, though those feelings are old friends. The new feeling weaved and twisted among them is a surprise, something I never even considered: acknowledgement. Hearing his words – even given who he is and the terrible things he has done – I feel known. For the first time in my adult life, I have been seen by another person. And they did not shrink away in disgust. I know Robert Holbeck is no arbiter of moral character, no great judge of human worth, but someone knows and they have done worse, and they understand. Of course, I fear what this means, that a man like Robert knows and can wield my darkest moment over me, and yet I cannot lie; it feels good to be known.

And, however confusing it might be, I feel oddly grateful. Grateful to him.

We are not alike, he and I; I refuse to acknowledge that, but in a terrifying way I feel a tiny bit less alone in the world than before.

I slowly pull myself together, wiping my eyes and nose with my sleeve and carefully removing the Olympus headphones from my ears.

The tape is clear. Robert Holbeck kills women. He kills them when they know too much, or when they get too close and threaten his family. Both women knew enough about the family’s dealings to pose a grave threat to their future. I recognize the description of the second woman, Gianna, from a photograph in Edward’s locked box earlier. The girl with wild curly hair and fearless eyes. Gianna must have been seeing Edward in his first year at MIT. A distraction, who was asking for more attention than the family was willing to give. Robert must have feared Edward, now next in line, might go the way of Bobby. Robert took her out of the equation.