‘Oui?’ His tinny voice came through the intercom speaker.
‘Can you come through, please, captain? Catherine would like to make a formal statement.’
‘I am coming in now.’
Cat locked eyes with Lydia. ‘And by the way . . . just to be clear? What happened was not an accident.’
‘OK . . .’
Captain Pigalle entered the room just as Cat started to cry. The stress of keeping her story straight was starting to get to her. But more than that, she was tired. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to drink too much wine, and pass out, and wake up and act like none of this had ever happened. She was trying her best to keep Tristan from her thoughts, but somehow he kept creeping in. And Ginny . . . oh god. Ginny. She had to keep remembering what Ginny had done, and why this whole thing was justified.
She wiped her eyes with another tissue. ‘It was Paul,’ she said, trying to keep her voice strong. Trying to deliver the lie as steady as she could make it. ‘It was all Paul.’
‘Please, madame . . .’ Pigalle raised a hand, gesturing for her to stop. ‘Before you carry on, I would like to record this conversation. That is OK?’
Cat nodded, then Pigalle said some spiel about recording the interview, and who was present and what time it was. Then he sat down next to Lydia, and the two of them looked at Cat expectantly.
‘I’m not under arrest, right? This is just me telling you what happened?’
‘Of course,’ the policeman said. ‘But it will help us all if we record this. You understand?’
Lydia placed a hand on top of Cat’s. She smiled gently. ‘We can stop anytime that you like, Cat. We just want to understand exactly what happened.’
‘And Paul?’
Lydia and Pigalle glanced at each other. Pigalle frowned. ‘Paul is doing the same in the other room. With my colleague, and Monsieur Dobbs. But maybe we should all talk together?’
Cat shook her head. ‘No, it’s fine. As I said before – I’d prefer to talk to you on my own.’
Pigalle pressed his hands together. ‘I think it will save us some time to do this all together. Don’t you agree?’
Panic started to build in Cat’s chest. ‘But we already agreed. I asked this before. I told you I was . . . I was scared of him.’
‘Nothing is going to happen to you, madame. We are here for you. But I want to understand all of this so that we can proceed. We still need to find your sister and your brother-in-law, am I right?’
So he had been listening in. Because she hadn’t revealed any of this to him yet, only to Lydia. Unless . . . Paul. Maybe Paul was getting ready to stitch her up.
Cat looked down at her hands. The palms were dirty and scratched. She curled her fingers and inspected her broken, filthy nails. Then she took a deep breath and looked up at the man and woman before her.
‘Please. Let me start this on my own, at least. He’ll have his own side of the story and I won’t get a chance if he’s in the room with me.’
‘Let’s do it your way,’ Lydia said. ‘OK, Captain Pigalle?’
‘Fine. Let us see where things go.’
Cat smiled at them gratefully, her heart rate beginning to slow back to something approximating normal. ‘It all started in January.’ She paused. ‘After Paul sexually assaulted one of his colleagues at the Christmas party, a week before.’
Pigalle raised an eyebrow. ‘This does not sound good. Was there an investigation? Was he charged?’
‘And what does this have to do with what happened on the mountain?’ Lydia looked confused. Cat couldn’t blame her.
It was a risk going down this route, but it was all she had. ‘It was concluded a couple of months ago. It really dragged on. He wasn’t charged with anything. He was suspended on full pay, but he decided not to go back. Everyone was happy enough with the outcome.’ She paused. ‘Everyone except Samantha. But I’m not sure there was anything else she could do. Both the investigation by his work and by the police came back saying the same thing – that there was no evidence.’ She looked down at her hands again. Saw the marks on her wrists from when Paul had grabbed her earlier. He’d gripped them hard when he’d pulled her to her feet at the bottom of the mountain, and she’d always marked and bruised easily.
She held up her wrists for them to see, hoping they would see it as evidence of his ability to be rough.
They were both looking at her sympathetically, so she ploughed on. There was no going back now.