“I need to talk to you,” I say breathlessly. “I know you’re Carl, and I think you know who I am.”
His face is impassive as he looks back at me. His eyes are dark, I notice, almost black. Then his brow clears.
“Mrs. Hawthorpe. I’m sorry—we never met face-to-face, so I had trouble placing you.” He looks back at the church. “I thought I’d come and pay my respects.”
“Why?”
“Sorry?”
“I’m asking why you wanted to pay your respects to Justine and Lina when you didn’t know them. You only worked for Ned for a few days. You never met either of them.”
“Their story has captured a lot of people’s hearts, Mrs. Hawthorpe.”
I notice it then, his accent. Australian, South African, I don’t know. For a moment, I falter. The man guarding Ned didn’t speak with an accent. Instinct kicks in. I’m right, I know I am.
I shake my head. “No. I know why you’re here. Closure.”
“I’m not sure—”
“Don’t.” I lower my voice as people come along the path toward us. “You may be speaking with a different accent, but I know you were one of the men who held me and Ned prisoner.”
He looks around, concern in his eyes. “Are you with someone? Could I get them for you?”
“Please don’t treat me like an idiot.”
He checks the time on his watch. “I’m sorry, but I need to be going.”
He tries to step around me but again, I block his way. “No. I need answers, and after all that I’ve done for you, you owe me. So, tell me—where’s Lukas? Why isn’t he here?”
He looks so bemused that for a moment, I think I’ve gotten it wrong. But the same gut feeling tells me again that I’m right.
“If you refuse to talk to me,” I say, incensed, “I’ll go to the police and tell them that I saw Ned Hawthorpe kill Lina Mielkut?.”
I see it in his eyes, a flash of something. But whatever it was disappears as quickly as it came.
“Yes, that’s right,” I hiss. “I saw Ned kill Lina, I saw him suffocate her with his own hands, I was hiding behind the door in the library, and I saw everything. I also saw Hunter being shot at point-blank range—but of course, you already know that, you said as much in your letter of instructions.” I barely notice his hand on my elbow as he steers me toward a bench, barely notice the tears streaming from my eyes. “Have you any idea what that was like for me, to witness two murders? You might have closure, but I never will, not until I have the answers I need.”
“I know you won’t want to hear this,” he says, as I fumble in my bag for a tissue. “But, Mrs. Hawthorpe, please believe me when I say that I have no idea what you are talking about.”
Anger flares.
“You’re right, I don’t believe you!” I stand up, swing my bag onto my shoulder. “And I’m not Mrs. Hawthorpe! I know you think that I won’t go to the police, but I will. Until I have answers, I’ll never be free, I’ll be just as much a prisoner as I was before.” I choke back my tears. “Do you even care that the only way I can sleep is on a mattress in a darkened room with a boarded-up window? That’s how messed up I am, that’s how much you and Lukas messed me up.”
I start to walk off, then turn back. “Give Lukas a message from me. Tell him I’m coming for him, wherever he is.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I walk away fast, but not so fast that Carl won’t be able to catch up with me, because he will come after me, he has to. As I approach the exit, I hang back, waiting for him to shout out, call me back, tell me what I need to know. But he doesn’t, and something inside me dies. I want to crumple to the ground, give up. If Carl won’t help me, who will?
The reality of my situation hits. If I walk away now, I’ll never get the answers I need. Once Carl is out of sight, he’ll be lost to me forever.
I spin around. But there’s no sign of him, he’s already left. I turn in circles, trying to see which way he went and then I spot him again, on the other side of the railings, walking quickly along the pavement. He must have taken another exit.
I run after him, and when I’m closer, I slow my pace and follow at a safe distance. He’s carrying a bag over his shoulder, something I hadn’t noticed before. At the end of the road, he stands for a moment, turning his head to the right and left, then checking his watch, and I realize that he’s not trying to cross the road, but looking for a taxi. My heart drops; if he jumps in a cab, I’ll lose him forever, unless another taxi comes along straight after, and I ask the driver to follow Carl’s. Please don’t let there be any taxis, I pray, and someone answers my prayers, because after a couple more minutes, he quickly crosses the road.