The Survivors(56)

Olivia went up to him, the cord in her outstretched hand.

‘Is it her camera, Chris? Is that what you’re looking for?’

Renn’s eyes went to the charger, then to Olivia’s face. He didn’t reply out loud, but at last his head inclined a fraction. Yeah.

‘Do you think someone took it?’ Olivia’s voice was very quiet. ‘The person who hurt her?’

A small shrug this time, perhaps involuntary. Possibly.

‘Why, though?’ she said. Renn didn’t react at all to that one, Kieran noticed.

Olivia was staring up at him. ‘Why didn’t you feel you could ask me? Chris? You could have just asked me if I knew where it was.’

‘We did, Liv,’ Renn said finally.

‘No. No, you asked if anything was missing.’ Olivia sounded like she wanted to be angry but didn’t have the energy to be anything but sad. ‘That is a very broad question, isn’t it? I mean, Bronte kept all her stuff in her own room.’ She looked down at the charger in her hand. ‘She had to keep all her stuff in her own room because I had a go at her in her first week for leaving things lying around the house.’

Olivia squeezed her eyes shut at the memory.

‘I answered everything you asked me, Chris, the best I could,’ she said when she finally opened them again. ‘If I missed something, it was because I’d come home to pick up my mat on the way to yoga with my mum and found Bronte was dead.’

Sergeant Renn looked at her, and Kieran remembered the hot flush that used to creep up his neck. There was no sign of that now, but his expression had softened a notch.

‘Yeah. All right,’ he said quietly. He nodded at her overnight bag. ‘Look, I’ll help you carry this to the station. Get someone to give you a lift to your mum’s.’

‘I was going to stop by Ash’s place.’

Renn stroked his chin, almost certainly thinking of Trish Birch outside the police station. ‘Not really any of my business, Liv, but I reckon your mum might need to see you more.’

Fresh anguish crossed Olivia’s face, and she bent down to zip up her bag.

A figure was trudging along the road as they all stepped out through the front gate. Sean, Kieran could see. He turned his head as he passed Renn and Olivia setting off together towards town and slowed his pace. They acknowledged him, but didn’t stop.

‘What’s happened? Is Liv okay?’ Sean asked as he reached Kieran and Mia outside Fisherman’s Cottage. He looked fresh from the sea, his skin still damp where it met his shirt. The Nautilus Blue must be back in the marina. Sean clocked his own torch in Kieran’s hand, then looked up, confused. ‘What’s going on?’

‘The good news is that you get this back.’ Kieran handed over the torch and explained about the missing camera. Sean’s face creased as he listened.

‘Do they think something’s on the camera?’

Kieran shrugged. ‘Renn didn’t say. It looked to me like Bronte was more into drawing than photography, anyway.’

‘Yeah. That’s what I heard.’ Sean stared at the house. ‘So what does this mean for everything?’

Kieran could see the concern but, behind the flicker of the eyes, something else. A calculation. What does this mean for Liam?

‘I don’t know, mate,’ Kieran said, honestly.

‘Did Renn say anything else?’

‘He barely said anything at all,’ Mia said, and Sean looked over. ‘I’m pretty sure he only confirmed the camera thing for Liv because he felt bad about what her mum said earlier. Trish cornered him outside the station. Was going on about how they need to take things seriously this time. I guess she still thinks he and Sergeant Mallott didn’t do enough for Gabby.’

Sean turned his torch over in his hands, his face troubled. ‘I thought they did take things with Gabby seriously. It all felt pretty thorough considering –’ He stopped awkwardly. Didn’t glance at Kieran. ‘Considering everything else going on during the storm.’

‘Yeah, they did take it seriously,’ Mia said, her voice hard and flat. ‘I had to go into the police station with my parents three times in those days before Gabby’s bag was found.’

‘That many?’ Sean looked surprised. ‘What for?’

‘Because the librarian told them Gabby and I had been arguing.’

‘Were you? What about?’

‘Nothing,’ Mia lied. ‘We weren’t.’

She didn’t look at Kieran, and he didn’t look at her. They had already had this conversation, within the first year they’d been together, on what was the anniversary of the storm and of Gabby’s disappearance. They had been in Kieran’s student flat, trying to go about things as normal but both becoming increasingly withdrawn as the day stretched out. Mia had been making dinner and finally dropped the knife she’d been using on the cutting board with a clatter.

‘I didn’t tell the police the truth,’ she said. ‘Back then, when they asked what Gabby and I were fighting about.’

The words seemed to come out of nowhere but Kieran could tell they had been brewing all day. Longer. For years, probably. He looked up from the couch and waited. Surprised, but at the same time, strangely not. The day of the storm had been so surreal, he felt there was nothing about it that could surprise him now.