Then She Vanishes(81)

‘Think about it,’ I say, trying to sound understanding rather than frustrated. ‘I could write something based on what I know already and give it to you to read. You wouldn’t really need to do anything.’

She looks towards the door, as though afraid the police will arrive at any second. ‘I suppose I could say my head hurts.’ She puts a hand to her bandage. ‘It does a bit anyway. It could be all the stress.’

Guilt rushes in, like the tide. ‘Oh, Heather, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t be asking you this …’

‘No. It’s okay. I know you’re only trying to help me.’ She sits up straighter in bed, looking determined. ‘Let’s do it.’ She laughs and I join in, and right away we’re fourteen again, giggling conspiratorially because we’re planning to do something we shouldn’t. ‘But don’t tell Mum,’ she adds. ‘She’ll only try to talk me out of it.’

I feel uneasy at leaving Margot out of the loop, but I’m so desperate for this story that I’m sure, in this moment, I’d agree to anything.

A nurse comes in and shoos me out, saying visiting hours are over and Heather needs her rest. Heather does look tired, the colour of her face not far off that of the white pillow she’s lying on. I promise to be back to see her soon.

I almost skip down the corridor and out to my car. I can hardly believe my luck. While I’m driving home I call Ted on hands-free.

‘Guess what,’ I cry, when he answers. ‘I’ve only gone and bloody done it. Heather’s agreed to an exclusive.’

There’s a pause and then: ‘Right, but we’ll only be able to use it if she’s not charged.’

I’d hardly expected him to whoop down the phone. After all, this is the ever-cynical Ted. But I was hoping for a bit more enthusiasm. ‘I’m praying she can put the police off, just until it’s printed on Friday. And we can put it on our website before that, of course.’ Not that anyone will read it, I silently add.

He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds and then: ‘Okay. Let’s hope. But good work, Jess. I knew you could do it.’

I put the phone down and do a little air punch. At last, a sliver of praise from Ted.

I’m beaming as I pull into the underground car park. And then my euphoria dies, replaced by guilt.

It’s been worth visiting Heather, both on a personal and professional level. I just hope she manages not to speak to the police tomorrow. I long to talk to Jack and dissect my conversation with Heather in detail. But he’s been acting oddly lately and I don’t feel as close to him since all this has happened.

Something else has been niggling at me, too. Something I haven’t wanted to think too much about. Those photos on my car. When they were taken I’d been on a job with Jack in Tilby. I recognize the scenery in the distance. Had Jack taken the photos without me being aware? Then why put them on my car with the words ‘Back off’? Why would he want to scare me from the story? So he can take it over for himself? I feel instantly guilty for my treacherous thoughts. Jack’s one of my closest friends. And he’s a snapper, not a reporter. But I can tell he’s hiding something from me – I know him too well.

Rory’s already home. I can smell spices and curry paste as I take off my coat and shoes in the hallway. My stomach grumbles at the prospect. I’ve not eaten anything since lunchtime.

‘Good day?’ he says, as I walk into the living room, slinging my laptop bag onto the sofa. This is how we are with each other now. Polite, but distant. We could be flatmates, rather than lovers. I remember, with a jolt, that I haven’t even told him about the photographs on my car and the threatening message. We haven’t really conversed since I told him I’d found the engagement ring a few days ago.

‘Busy,’ I say, walking through to the kitchen. I stand beside him, watching as he stirs the curry. Usually we’d kiss now, or I’d wrap my arms around his waist as he cooked. But we just stand there, like virtual strangers.

‘I thought …’ he indicates the frying pan ‘… we could sit down for once and talk properly.’

I pull a regretful face. ‘I’ve got a bit of work to do. I went to see Heather today.’

‘Heather?’

‘The woman I used to be friends with,’ I say, surprised that he doesn’t remember. How can he not know about Heather, when she and her family are all I’ve thought about for the past couple of weeks?

‘The woman who murdered two people in Tilby?’ He turns to me, a horrified expression on his face. ‘You went to see her?’

‘Yes. She’s still in hospital. She agreed to an interview.’ He turns away and his shoulders tense. Disapproval emanates from every pore. ‘What?’

He sighs. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘It’s obviously not nothing,’ I spit, tiredness making me tetchy. ‘It’s my job, Rory.’

He spins around to face me, wooden spoon still in his hand. ‘I understand that. But … I don’t know. You’re so secretive. I thought we told each other everything, yet you lied to me about your last job. The phone hacking. The threats. The reason we left London. I gave up everything to follow you here and I feel like you’re doing it all over again.’

‘Doing what?’

‘Pushing me out. Not being honest.’