44
LIZZIE
The loud shrill of the doorbell makes Lizzie jump and she almost drops the file she’s holding. She’s sitting on the floor in Philip’s bedroom, in front of the open wardrobe and blue file box. She doesn’t get up.
Go away, she thinks.
The doorbell goes again. The person outside keeps their finger on it for longer.
Lizzie sits tight, waiting, hoping for them to go away.
Then her mobile starts ringing in the pocket of her cardigan. She takes it out and looks at the screen. It’s Moira. It keeps ringing.
Lizzie presses answer. ‘Hello.’
‘Are you at home? I’m outside. I’ve found something important and I need to look at the patrol logs.’
Lizzie looks at the folder in her hand. Thinks of what she’s discovered. She’s still reeling. Doesn’t want to see Moira. Doesn’t trust her after the revelation that she’d been a DCI.
‘Lizzie?’ There’s urgency in Moira’s voice. ‘Are you there?’
She wipes her eyes. Presses her fingers against her forehead. If Moira’s found something important she can’t ignore her call for help; if she does then she’ll be just as bad as Philip. She clears her throat. ‘Sorry. Yes, I’m here. Hold on.’
Hanging up, she puts the folder back into the file box and closes the clasp. Carefully she lifts the box back into the wardrobe and arranges the lines of shoes around it, just as it had been. Swallowing back the nausea she’s feeling, she closes the wardrobe and hurries to the front door.
The sour taste is still in her mouth. She’s not sure it’ll ever go away. She yanks open the door, taking her rage for Philip out on the handle. Moira is standing on the front porch. Lizzie inhales sharply as she sees her. ‘Oh my God. Your poor face. Are you okay?’
‘It’s fine,’ says Moira, stepping around Lizzie and coming inside. ‘Looks worse than it feels.’
Lizzie can’t imagine that’s true. She closes the door behind Moira. Tries to think of something to say, but she can’t, she feels frozen. All she can think about is what she saw in the folder. What she knows now; the truth about Philip that he’s kept hidden from her all these years.
‘Are you okay, Lizzie?’ Moira is looking at her with concern.
She feels her eyes get watery and blinks, forcing the tears away. She doesn’t want to get emotional. She just needs to help Moira with the case. Fears that she can’t trust her with anything personal. ‘I . . .’
Moira puts her hand on Lizzie’s shoulder. ‘What’s happened?’
Lizzie shakes her head. Says nothing.
‘You can trust me, Lizzie,’ says Moira. ‘Please, let me help.’
Lizzie holds Moira’s gaze. Folds her arms around herself. Maybe it would help to speak to someone. Moira looks so sincere. She wants to trust her, really she does. Hopes she’s not making a mistake. ‘It’s Philip.’
Moira frowns. ‘Is he okay? Did something—’
‘Philip was responsible for the death of a child, a young girl. That’s why he had to retire.’
‘I thought it was because of ill health?’ says Moira, her frown deepening.
Lizzie drops her gaze. She takes a breath then looks back at Moira. ‘That was the story, and it was true in part – he wasn’t well enough after the heart attack and the surgery to go back to his job full-time. But he could have been more desk based, or done something part-time, but they forced him out, and if he’d refused to resign they were going to discipline and fire him instead of retiring him like a hero.’