The Survivors(71)

She turned towards her husband and beckoned for him to pass her the microphone. Kieran saw Pendlebury and Renn exchange a look.

Nick lowered his head and whispered something to his wife. Her reply was inaudible as she motioned again for the microphone. This time he passed it over, then slid his phone along the table so she could read the notes.

Andrea ignored it. She raised the microphone with the practised movement of someone also accustomed to public speaking. She fixed her eyes on the crowd.

‘Who did this?’

Bronte’s mother’s words cut through the air. She waited. No-one made a sound. Her gaze continued its slow crawl. Every single person was staring back, but Kieran saw more than one drop their eyes as the woman turned their way.

‘Who did this?’ she said again. Her husband reached out and tapped the screen of his phone firmly, turning it squarely in front of her, but Andrea stayed focused on the room, her scrutiny clear and cold.

Kieran knew he couldn’t have been the only one expecting tearful, wet, messy grief. He could feel the atmosphere thicken as he and everyone else scrambled to catch up, all reaching the same conclusion at more or less the same time. Bronte’s mother was not sad. Or, at least, not just sad. She was furious.

Andrea’s hand was trembling as she raised the microphone again, but her voice didn’t waver.

‘We weren’t sure why our daughter wanted to come here for the summer. Why she would choose to spend months here –’ A small bristle from the crowd, and her husband frowned. Andrea ignored them both. ‘But we loved Bronte. She said it was important for her art, so we supported her. We always tried to do that. And when Bronte came here, she did her best to fit in and she was welcomed, mostly –’

The last comment was delivered pointedly in the direction of Olivia, who was staring down into her lap. Ash tightened his arm around her and Trish simply looked stunned. Kieran saw Renn shoot an unspoken question at Pendlebury, who hesitated then shook her head in an almost invisible response.

‘Bronte came here with an open mind,’ Andrea was saying, her voice tight. ‘Curious about life here. Interested. Trusting.’

She stopped, her gaze still stealing across the room. To George, then Mia, then to Kieran himself. He looked back and as their eyes met he thought, suddenly, of Verity. He could see his mother leaning forward in her chair, her lips parted as she watched the other woman speak.

‘My child’s last moments would have been horrific.’ Both Andrea’s voice and hands were shaking now. ‘I can’t let myself think about how scared she must have been. Can you imagine what that would have been like for her? In the water? She couldn’t breathe.’

She swallowed and her words hung in the air. Kieran felt George shift next to him. Across the room, Julian was staring back at Bronte’s mother, his defiance almost convincing. Sean had a hand over his face.

‘I know you’re waiting for me to ask for your help,’ Andrea said at last. ‘So I will. Please. I’m begging you, if you know anything about what happened to my daughter, please tell us.’ She took a breath. ‘But you should also know this: I will find out either way. I’m not going to pretend I know where to start, but I’ll pay people who do. Investigators. I’ll drain our bank accounts. I’ll mortgage our houses. Whatever I need to do. Because I think this man –’ Andrea pointed at Heath, who looked like he wished he could disappear. ‘– I think he’s wrong. I think the person responsible is probably in this room. I think it’s one of you.’ There was a silence. ‘But maybe not. I don’t care, I just want the truth. So either way, no stone left unturned. If you’re out there –’ She scanned the room again, not so slow and steady now. ‘If you’re hoping this will go away, you’re going to be waiting a long time. Someone hurt Bronte. I want to know who. So unless you want every secret in this place dragged to the surface, I recommend everybody in this room opens their mouths and starts talking.’

There was more than a murmur at that, and Renn got to his feet.

Andrea held up a palm, stopping him. She looked around the room once more, then shook her head.

‘Never mind.’ She put the microphone down and spoke in her normal voice. ‘I’ve said what I wanted to say.’





Chapter 25


The water at dawn was as cold as it ever was. Kieran ducked his head under, his breath catching in his chest. He started to swim, pulling himself through the surf, raising his head every ten strokes to check on Audrey, who was tucked in her sleeping bag on his towel on the deserted beach.

Kieran had woken up in the dark, alerted by the stuttering warning cry from the cot, and had crawled reluctantly out of bed. He had fed Audrey and read to her from a picture book that hinted heavily on its front cover that it would unlock her genius potential. Instead, it had sent her back to sleep, which in that moment seemed like an even better result. They should have put that on the cover. By then, the sky was starting to lighten but the house was still sleeping, so Kieran had wrapped her up, grabbed his towel and taken them both out into the crisp morning cold.

His head was still full of the community meeting as he swam. Renn had moved fast after Bronte’s mother’s speech, Kieran had to give him that. Her words had barely landed before the sergeant had taken two swift strides across the stage and, hands firmly on their backs, shepherded Andrea and Nick through the crowd and out of the door.