Blinking, she tries to rid herself of the image. She swallows hard as she feels the dreaded fluttering start up in her chest. This is how they begin; the panic attacks. The fluttering is the first warning sign; after that, the symptoms are harder to hide.
Not here, she thinks. Not now. Please not here.
As Lizzie passes her, heading to the gate, Moira closes her eyes. She concentrates on her inhale, then her exhale.
Please work, she thinks. I can’t do this here. I can’t.
She counts in for five, and out for five. Feels her chest relax a fraction. The fluttering subsides. She opens her eyes.
Lizzie is at the gate. She glances back at Moira. ‘I’ll go first.’
Lizzie doesn’t hesitate. Puts the strap of her messenger bag over her head and finds a toehold on the bottom rung of the gate. Carefully avoiding disturbing the tape, she climbs over the gate to the path on the other side. She grins at Moira. ‘Your turn.’
Moira steps up to the gate and climbs over to join Lizzie. Tries not to let her see that her hands and legs are trembling.
‘Are you okay? I’m used to crime scenes, but for you it must be hard coming back here.’ Lizzie cocks her head to the side. ‘You look a bit pale.’
‘I’m fine,’ says Moira. She forces a smile. Tries hard to make it convincing. It seems to work.
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ says Lizzie. She pauses, waiting to see if Moira says anything more. When she doesn’t, Lizzie continues. ‘As we walk, can you tell me how things looked this morning – what you saw, when and where?’
‘Sure,’ says Moira, relieved that Lizzie’s changed the subject.
Slowly, they follow the path around the corner towards the pool. Moira thinks back and visualises the scene from that morning. ‘It was still pretty cold when I got here.’
‘Then what happened?’ says Lizzie.
Moira inhales and can almost smell the grass, damp with early morning dew. ‘The grass was wet, and it seemed just as quiet, as still, as always.’
The path starts to straighten as the pool comes into sight. Moira glances towards Lizzie and gestures towards the pool. ‘This is the moment I first saw her. For a split second I thought I’d been beaten by someone else to get the first swim, but then I processed what I was seeing – that she was fully clothed and not moving, and that there seemed to be a lot of money in the water.’
Lizzie’s nodding. ‘Go on.’
‘I ran towards the pool.’ Moira accelerates, taking long strides towards the pool. Then, as the pathway broadens into the patio area around the pool she stops abruptly, pointing at the paving in front of her. ‘And I had to jump away from the stones here. There was blood on them. Not much – just a few splashes leading to the edge of the pool.’
Lizzie crouches down, looking at the stone.
Moira watches Lizzie. Not sure what she’s doing or how looking at the stone now is going to help. ‘You’ve seen it in the photos.’
Lizzie scans the stone. ‘Yes, I can see the trail. The CSIs have disturbed it. It looks like they’ve used some chemicals, probably to assess whether it came from the victim or the killer.’ She stands. Looks at Moira. ‘Although I think given the victim’s wound, it’s safe to say probability suggests that it was hers.’
Moira nods. ‘I stepped up to the edge to look at the woman. It was obvious then that she was dead. So I called 911 on my phone and then waited here for the ambulance and police to arrive. It was while I was waiting that I noticed the black bag in the pool.’
‘Do you remember seeing anything unusual in this surrounding area?’ asks Lizzie. ‘Elsewhere on the path or on the lawn or in the flower beds?’