Her One Mistake(85)

“And they never did,” she cries, falling back into the chair. “They never did. So don’t you dare say that this is my fault.”

? ? ?

“HARRIET, I KNOW this has been a distressing night for you, but I will tell you if there is any news.” Detective Lowry looks up sharply when we are interrupted by a knock on the door. An officer pokes her head in and calls him out of the room again. “Bloody hell,” he mutters, scraping his chair back. “Two minutes,” he snaps, glancing back at me.

When he returns, he takes his seat and clears his throat, sitting slightly forward in his chair as his elbows reach out to find the table. “Let’s continue,” he says firmly.

“What happened?” I ask.

They found Brian. I know they did. He is still alive and telling them what I did to him.

“Mrs. Hodder, I’m the one asking the questions,” he says as he shifts awkwardly and clasps his fingers together. “What made you come to Cornwall, Harriet?”

Another deep breath. Another lump to swallow down. “I got a note,” I lie. “It came through the mail slot three days ago.” I lean forward and from my back pocket I pull out the Elderberry Cottage business card I’d written on earlier this afternoon, glancing at it one last time before I push it across the table.

Lowry reads it aloud. “?‘I’m sorry, Harriet, but I’m doing this for you. You’re both in danger if you stay.’?” He turns the note over and reads out the address. “So you get this and decide to come to Cornwall and find Elderberry Cottage?”

I nod.

“Without even thinking to mention this to anyone?” He flaps the card in the air. “Not even Angela, who was practically living in your house at the time?”

“I just needed to get to my daughter,” I say quietly. “I wasn’t scared of my father. I believed Alice was safe, and I was worried that if I told anyone else, something would go wrong.”

Though I’m well aware of how very wrong everything went.

“How much longer will I be here?” I ask him, draining the last of my water and letting him refill my glass.

Lowry glances at the fat watch on his wrist but doesn’t answer me.

“Did you find Brian?” I ask.

Detective Lowry hesitates. “No, Mrs. Hodder,” he says after a beat. “We haven’t found your husband.”

“Oh—” I sink back, trying to make sense of how the news makes me feel. I was convinced they had.

Is he dead? He must be.

Lowry is asking me more questions about Brian and what he did to me, in the same tone that suggests he doesn’t believe my story, when all of a sudden a thought hits me.

“My diary,” I say, jolting upright. “It’s in my handbag. I left it—”

Where is my diary? I had taken my bag to the beach because Brian had shoved it at me when we were at the cottage. “I dropped it, somewhere.” I shake my head, I can’t remember. I must have dropped it when I saw my dad. Maybe it’s still on the rocks. Or maybe it’s been swallowed up by the sea.

? ? ?

“PERHAPS YOU’D LIKE to take a break, Charlotte?” Rawlings seems to think she’s gotten me to admit something, but she doesn’t know what.

Charlotte had never meant to have an outburst. She nods, and once outside the room, she turns left and heads for the bathroom. The detective walks off in the opposite direction.

When Charlotte emerges five minutes later, she spots Captain Hayes at the front door with Detective Rawlings and a man she doesn’t recognize. She ducks into a doorway, out of sight, where she can only just make out the voices farther down the hallway.

“How’s it going?” Hayes asks. “Progress?”

“I don’t know about progress,” Charlotte hears Detective Rawlings say. “But I don’t think we’ll get any more out of Charlotte Reynolds.”

“And Harriet Hodder’s convinced the husband’s going to turn up,” another voice pipes up. Charlotte leans forward and takes a better look at the short man with wire-rimmed glasses. She wonders if he’s the detective who’s been questioning Harriet. “It’s rattling her.”

“?‘Rattling her’?” Angela appears in the doorway and Charlotte pulls back before one of them spots her. “Do tell me what that’s supposed to mean, Detective Lowry?”

“Well, I believe he’d have a very different story to tell us. One she doesn’t want us hearing.”

“Oh, dear God,” Angela cries. “Are you kidding me? Harriet Hodder is scared. That woman’s been abused by him for years. Of course she’s rattled.”

“We only have her word for it,” Lowry says. “And I’m not sure I believe her version of what happened on the boat.”

“Well, this makes for interesting reading,” Angela snaps. “She’s been writing this diary for the last year.” She falls silent, and for a moment all Charlotte can hear is the blood swishing in her ears.

“Yet you didn’t pick up on it?” he asks. “You were practically living with them and you didn’t see that side of Brian Hodder?”

Silence again. None of us did, Charlotte wants to tell Angela. None of us saw it.

“I didn’t,” Angela says eventually. “You’re right. At the time I didn’t see what he was doing, but look in this notebook. What he did was subtle. Brian Hodder was a clever, manipulative, patient man. He did it in a way nobody would ever notice.”