There is a soft rap on my door and I hear Dale’s voice asking if I’m decent.
‘Yep, come in,’ I say, sitting up in bed and tucking the duvet around me. I remember dressing in my fleecy pyjamas last night and pulling on my thick bed-socks, although I’m still wearing yesterday’s makeup.
‘How are you feeling?’ He hands me a black coffee and I’m touched that he remembers how I like it. He’s fully dressed in last night’s clothes and I feel a fresh wave of gratitude for all his help.
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ I say, sipping the coffee. ‘I really appreciate you coming with me and staying over.’
He smiles in response, his hazel eyes warm, and checks his watch. ‘I’d better get going. I need to go to my dad’s and change before my shift starts. What are your plans for today? You should probably take it easy.’
There’s no chance of that. I’ve got too much to do. I take another sip of coffee, not caring it’s too hot. My mouth feels like the bottom of a birdcage. ‘I’m going to try Katie’s mum. And I still haven’t given up on Olivia. I just need to find a way to convince her to talk to me.’
He shuffles his feet. ‘That’s great, but …’ He suddenly looks uncomfortable. ‘You don’t really think that we’ll solve this case while you’re here, do you? Because I’d hate to disappoint you but I sincerely doubt you’ll get any answers. It’s been twenty years.’
I laugh. ‘When did I say I wanted to solve the case? That’s your job.’
His lips twitch. ‘Yeah, I know. But there might never be a resolution for your podcast, that’s all I’m saying.’
I shake my head and wince at the movement. ‘I know. I’m not here for that. I’d just like more local interviews for the podcast. It’s an intriguing mystery. Obviously it would be great if you could solve it while I’m here …’ I grin to show I’m joking.
‘Hmm.’ There’s a twinkle in his eye. ‘I’ll give you a call later. Let me know if you need a lift to fetch your car.’
‘I’m a grown woman. I’ll be fine in the broad daylight.’
‘Also,’ he looks a little uncomfortable again, ‘could you pop into the station at some point and give a formal statement about your visit to Ralph?’
‘Sure.’ I pull back the duvet.
‘No, don’t get up,’ he says. ‘I’ll let myself out.’
When he’s left I reach for my phone. Time to call Finn before he leaves for school.
I don’t mention my head injury or Ralph’s murder to Finn or my mum so as not to worry them. I’m surprised to see her at my house so early and ask where Gavin is. Mum tells me he had to go into the office for a breakfast meeting. I wonder how he would feel if he knew another man stayed with me last night – even if he was in the spare room. Would he even care? I think of the woman’s laugh I was sure I heard yesterday. I can’t believe Gavin would have anyone staying over. Finn would surely have mentioned it. Can I be so sure about what Gavin is up to in his rented flat? I thought I knew everything about him but after he told me he wanted space from our marriage I feel like he’s a stranger. I had trusted him but now I can’t help the nagging voice in my head taunting me that he wants space from our marriage because he’s met someone else.
After I’ve finished chatting to Finn I fall back against the pillows and close my eyes, trying to dispel the slight headache. Olivia and Wesley pop into my head and how unnatural they had seemed last night. Olivia had more or less squirmed with us there. And Wesley had acted oddly too.
I must have fallen back to sleep because I’m woken by a thud against my bedroom window, as if something has been thrown against the glass. I sit bolt upright, my heart scudding. What the fuck was that? I look at my phone. It’s nine thirty. I hurry out of bed and throw open the curtains, terrified of what I might find. There’s a streak of blood trailing down the glass. I dart out of the room, fling open the front door and am hit by a cold gust of air. There’s nobody there. My breath fogs in front of me as I step onto the freezing slabs, my socks sticking to the thin layer of ice. I go back into the hallway to thrust my feet into my wellies and pull on my coat over my pyjamas before I hurry back outside to where my bedroom window is – the blood looks worse out here, smeared across the glass, and I take a sharp breath. A dead bird is at my feet, its neck bent. I look at its sad, unseeing eye and feel a twinge of melancholy.
‘Happens a lot, I’m afraid,’ says a voice from behind me, and I jump in fright. ‘Stupid wood pigeons flying into windows.’ I turn to see a man standing at the end of the driveway, half expecting it to be the person I saw the other night who’s staying in the cabin opposite. But this man isn’t wearing a big overcoat that hides his face and is instead smartly dressed and business-like. He looks to be in his late sixties with closely cropped grey hair and neatly trimmed beard, an expensive-looking beige mackintosh over a well-made navy blue suit. ‘Sorry to startle you. You must be Jenna Halliday?’ He thrusts a large hand in my direction.
I nod as I walk up to him and shake his hand. ‘And you are?’
‘I’m Jay Knapton, the owner. We spoke on the phone.’
‘Oh, yes.’ Relief floods through me. ‘Nice to meet you properly.’
He smiles in response. ‘Likewise. I just came to do a check-up of all the empty cabins. Yours is the only one occupied at the moment. It’s not a very busy time but I’m hoping that changes by the summer.’
‘What about that cabin there?’ I point to the one opposite. Foxglove.
He shakes his head. ‘No. Just you.’
‘But …’ That can’t be right. ‘Has the person left?’
He looks puzzled. ‘What person?’
‘Someone was there when I arrived. I assumed it was a man by their height and build but it was hard to tell. I saw him yesterday too. He had a German Shepherd dog with him. Whoever it was, he was wearing a long hooded coat.’
Jay’s face darkens. ‘Nobody else is booked into these cabins and there hasn’t been anyone for weeks. It’s just you here. Could you have been mistaken? Lots of dog-walkers use the forest.’
‘Definitely not mistaken. There were lights on in the cabin. I saw the person go in there myself.’ Now I’m freaked out.
Jay’s face is serious. ‘You’re sure about this?’
‘Yes. Yes, I’m sure. Could it be squatters?’
He straightens. ‘I doubt it. These cabins are checked on regularly by myself mostly, and if not me, then my team. Stay there. I’m going to look.’
He marches off across the uneven dirt track to the cabin opposite and I quickly pull my front door to, making sure the key is in my pocket, then jog after him.
Jay takes what must be a master key from a chain in his pocket and opens the door. I flinch, expecting a dog to charge out, but there is silence.
‘Hello,’ calls Jay almost theatrically, walking further into the cabin which is a mirror image of mine. I shadow him. He pushes open the main bedroom door but it’s empty. He does the same with the next bedroom and then the living room. They, too, are empty. The whole cabin looks unlived in.