The Hike(61)

‘Problems?’

Cat forced out a small laugh. ‘You could say that . . .’

‘Is it something you want to bring up here?’ Lydia’s voice was sympathetic. ‘I mean . . . is it relevant to what happened?’

Cat sniffed, rubbing her nose with the tissue. Nodded. Then she pulled herself up straight and laid her hands on the table in front of her, the balled tissue squashed underneath. ‘I thought I knew Paul. I thought I knew every nuance of his being. But recent events made me realise that I didn’t know him at all.’ She paused. Sucked in a breath. ‘Such a cliché.’

Lydia was leaning back in her seat now, one leg crossed over the other. Her expression quizzical. ‘I think it’s fair to say that no one really knows anyone else, do they? No one can read anyone else’s thoughts. No one knows how people will react when they’re faced with something difficult or frightening. Stress and pressure can do a lot to people, you know. You shouldn’t think you’ve failed because you didn’t spot the signs.’ She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. ‘Sometimes there just aren’t any signs to spot.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve met a lot of people in my line of work and, I’ll tell you, no matter what I think I know about human psychology, people will always do things that surprise me.’

Cat shifted in her seat. This was going exactly how she wanted. She glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room. ‘I know you said the cameras are off, but . . . well, maybe we should have one of the police in here with us now anyway. I’ll only have to say it all again otherwise.’

Lydia picked up her pen and flipped her notebook open. ‘So you want to make a statement? I thought you wanted to talk to me first, to explain everything? About the accident?’

‘I did.’ Cat sighed. ‘I do. But . . . well. Maybe we should get it all over with. Formally, I mean. We’ve already delayed things a lot. But as I said to the captain before, I was scared of doing this alone. I don’t want anything to get . . . misunderstood.’

Lydia reached across to the wall and pressed a green button on the phone that hung there. It made a buzzing sound that could be heard both in the room they were in and the room that it was connected to. The walls were paper-thin. The captain and his lieutenant had probably been listening to every word anyway. She had a sudden flash of Captain Pigalle leaping back from the connecting wall, holding a glass and wearing a guilty expression.

‘Oui?’ His tinny voice came through the intercom speaker.

‘Can you come through, please, captain? Catherine would like to make a formal statement.’

‘I am coming in now.’

Cat locked eyes with Lydia. ‘And by the way . . . just to be clear? What happened was not an accident.’

‘OK . . .’

Captain Pigalle entered the room just as Cat started to cry. The stress of keeping her story straight was starting to get to her. But more than that, she was tired. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to drink too much wine, and pass out, and wake up and act like none of this had ever happened. She was trying her best to keep Tristan from her thoughts, but somehow he kept creeping in. And Ginny . . . oh god. Ginny. She had to keep remembering what Ginny had done, and why this whole thing was justified.

She wiped her eyes with another tissue. ‘It was Paul,’ she said, trying to keep her voice strong. Trying to deliver the lie as steady as she could make it. ‘It was all Paul.’

‘Please, madame . . .’ Pigalle raised a hand, gesturing for her to stop. ‘Before you carry on, I would like to record this conversation. That is OK?’

Cat nodded, then Pigalle said some spiel about recording the interview, and who was present and what time it was. Then he sat down next to Lydia, and the two of them looked at Cat expectantly.

‘I’m not under arrest, right? This is just me telling you what happened?’

‘Of course,’ the policeman said. ‘But it will help us all if we record this. You understand?’

Lydia placed a hand on top of Cat’s. She smiled gently. ‘We can stop anytime that you like, Cat. We just want to understand exactly what happened.’

‘And Paul?’

Lydia and Pigalle glanced at each other. Pigalle frowned. ‘Paul is doing the same in the other room. With my colleague, and Monsieur Dobbs. But maybe we should all talk together?’

Cat shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine. As I said before – I’d prefer to talk to you on my own.’

Pigalle pressed his hands together. ‘I think it will save us some time to do this all together. Don’t you agree?’

Panic started to build in Cat’s chest. ‘But we already agreed. I asked this before. I told you I was . . . I was scared of him.’

‘Nothing is going to happen to you, madame. We are here for you. But I want to understand all of this so that we can proceed. We still need to find your sister and your brother-in-law, am I right?’

So he had been listening in. Because she hadn’t revealed any of this to him yet, only to Lydia. Unless . . . Paul. Maybe Paul was getting ready to stitch her up.

Cat looked down at her hands. The palms were dirty and scratched. She curled her fingers and inspected her broken, filthy nails. Then she took a deep breath and looked up at the man and woman before her.

‘Please. Let me start this on my own, at least. He’ll have his own side of the story and I won’t get a chance if he’s in the room with me.’