‘C-can I…’ she began, hesitating. ‘Can I please talk to him?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘To Charlie,’ she said, louder now. ‘Can I please talk to Charlie? I’d really like to speak to him. I-I need to speak to him.’
A sound came down the line, a croak of disbelief from Hawkins’ throat. ‘Well, um…’ he said, ‘I’m afraid that that won’t be possible, Pip. You’re the only eyewitness to a murder he allegedly committed. And if there’s a trial, obviously you’ll be called as the prosecution’s lead witness. So, I’m afraid it’s not going to be possible for you to talk to him, no.’
Pip sank even further, bones fusing with the structure of the house. Hawkins’ answer was a physical thing, sharp and lodged inside her chest. She should have known.
‘OK, that’s fine,’ she said quietly. It wasn’t fine, it was anything but fine.
‘How’s the… how’s that other thing going?’ Hawkins asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. ‘The stalker you came to me about. Have there been any other incidents?’
‘Oh, no,’ Pip said flatly. ‘Nothing else. That’s all sorted now. That’s fine, thank you.’
‘OK, well, I just wanted to let you know about Charlie Green, before you saw it in the press tomorrow.’ Hawkins cleared his throat. ‘And I hope you’re doing better.’
‘I’m fine,’ Pip said, and she hardly had the energy to even pretend. ‘Thanks for your call, DI Hawkins.’ She lowered the phone, her thumb finding the red button.
Charlie was caught. It was over. The one possible salvation she’d had left, other than this dangerous game against DT. At least she could officially cross Charlie’s name from the list of people who might hate her enough to want her to disappear. She’d always known it wasn’t him, and now it really couldn’t have been: he’d been in France all this time.
Pip glanced at her computer screen again, at the page asking her to name Andie Bell’s first hamster, and it was almost funny just how ridiculous it was. Just as funny, as ridiculous, as the notion of decomposing bodies and the way we all become one. Disappearing wasn’t mysterious, it wasn’t thrilling; it was cold bodies with stiff limbs and purpling patches as the blood inside pooled. What Billy Karras must have seen when he found Tara Yates. What Stanley Forbes must have looked like in the morgue, though how could he have had any blood left in him when it was all over her hands? Sal Singh too, dead in the woods outside her house. Not Andie Bell, though; she was found too late, when she was almost entirely gone, disintegrated. That was the closest thing to disappearing, Pip supposed.
And yet, Andie hadn’t disappeared, not at all. Here she was again, six and a half years after she died, and she was Pip’s only remaining lead. No, not a lead, a lifeline: some strange unknowable force connecting them across time, though they’d never met. Pip wasn’t there to save Andie, but maybe Andie was there to save her.
Maybe.
But still, Pip had to wait. And Andie Bell would remain a mystery at least for the next twenty-four and a half hours.
‘This is a Tel-Co Link prepaid call from… Becca Bell… an inmate at HM Prison Downview. Please note, this call will be recorded and is subject to monitoring at any time. To accept this call, Press 1. To block all futu—’
Pip pressed 1 so fast, she almost pushed the phone right out of her hands.
‘Hello?’ She raised it to her ear again, her leg bouncing uncontrollably against her desk, rattling the pot of pens on top. ‘Becca?’
‘Hey.’ Becca’s voice came through, faint at first. ‘Hey, Pip, yeah I’m here. Sorry, there was a bit of a queue. How’re you doing?’
‘Yeah, good,’ Pip said, her chest constricting uncomfortably with every breath. ‘Good, yeah, fine.’
‘You sure?’ Becca said, a hint of concern pulling up her voice. ‘You sound a bit jittery.’
‘Oh, too much coffee, you know me,’ Pip said with a hollow laugh. ‘How are you? How’s French going?’
‘Good, yeah,’ she said, then added, ‘Très bon,’ with an amused sniff. ‘And they just started up yoga classes this week.’
‘Oh, that’s fun.’
‘Yeah, and I went with my friend, remember I told you about Nell?’ Becca said. ‘So, yeah, that was fun, although it’s made me realize how incredibly un-bendy I am. Something to work on, I suppose.’