He runs a hand over his unshaven chin. ‘I don’t know. I don’t understand it. It’s like the alarm’s been disabled or something. I’ll have to ask my dad. But, Em,’ he glances at her with suspicion in his eyes, ‘it doesn’t look like the porch was locked.’
She locked it. She knows she did. She would never forget, not after everything that’s happened. She tries to keep her panic in check as she asks Elliot to replay the footage again, peering more closely at the screen this time to try to get a better look. ‘Here,’ she says, pausing the recording, adrenaline pumping, ‘the beanie … that badge on the front. I recognize it.’
‘You do?’
‘Yes. It’s a Scandinavian brand. I …’ Her insides turn to ice. ‘I’ve seen someone I know wearing a hat just like it.’
‘Who?’ Elliot’s voice is urgent.
Nausea rises. It could be a coincidence and it’s so hard to tell – the person looks taller, but the build is slim. It’s impossible to get a clear look at their face. Their head is dipped the whole time, hair hidden by the hat.
‘Louise,’ she says.
After trying to call Louise five times, Emilia leaves a frustrated message. ‘Please call me back. It’s really important.’
‘I should ring the police,’ says Elliot, angrily, pacing the kitchen.
‘Louise is the police.’
‘And yet you think she stole my bike.’
She exhales in frustration. ‘I’m not saying it is her, okay? I’m saying she has a beanie like that. But so do lots of other people, I expect. This person looks taller than Louise so I could be wrong. It’s – it’s hard to tell exactly. We need to give her the benefit of the doubt before we go reporting it to the police. If it is her maybe she needed it for some reason and didn’t want to wake us all up.’ The argument sounds weak, even to her own ears, but they can’t assume it’s Louise based on the make of a hat.
‘You’re right, it could be anyone. And if you forget to lock the door …’ He lets the implication hang in the air.
Elliot heads back to his garden office, promising not to report it until they’ve heard back from Louise, and Emilia tries to keep busy by cleaning the bathrooms, still smarting over Elliot’s accusation about her forgetting to lock the door. She remembers doing it.
It’s not until much later, after she’s picked up the kids from school and Elliot is making tea, that she notices a voicemail on her phone from Louise. The call was made at 3.30 p.m. when she was driving to Jasmine’s school to pick her up because she doesn’t want her to get the bus home.
She wanders away from the cacophony in the kitchen and heads to the front room to listen to it.
‘Sorry, mate,’ says Louise, in a breathless voice. ‘It’s been a manic day. I’ve managed to pop home for a bit. But I really need to speak to you. To explain everything. I’d rather do it face to face. Can you come over to my place this evening? It’s flat four, Sunnyside Road. Toby’s at his dad’s so we can have a proper chat. I’m …’ Emilia is appalled to hear the wobble in her friend’s voice ‘… I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of it to get this far. Come over as soon as you can. And, Em …’ she sniffs ‘… I really am sorry.’
The message ends and Emilia stares at her phone in alarm. What does Louise mean? Why is she sorry? For the bike? Her heart picks up speed. Is Louise involved in something dodgy? She tries to call her back, but the phone just rings out.
‘Damn it,’ she mutters to herself.
‘Are you okay?’ She looks up to see Elliot standing in the doorway. ‘Was that Louise?’
She nods, her mind racing. ‘A message. She sounded weird. She wants me to go over to hers, now.’
Disapproval radiates from him. ‘What? Now? Why? Can’t it wait? Dinner will be ready soon.’
‘It’s not far and I won’t be long. I really need to speak to her. I need to find out what’s going on.’
He looks doubtful. ‘I don’t think you should go …’
‘I’ll be okay. I’ve got my alarm.’ She heads back into the hallway and grabs her denim jacket. ‘I shouldn’t be too long. Save me some fish.’ She reaches up and kisses him again but he’s still looking at her oddly as she hurries out of the front porch.
It takes her twenty minutes to drive to Louise’s. She manages to find a space on the almost deserted street and walks through the communal garden. Louise’s flat is in the basement, with iron railings and accessed by steps. It’s still light, but the sun is around the back of the building so the front of Louise’s flat is in shadow. A Ukrainian flag hangs from the top-floor window but the street is quiet, almost eerie.
She descends the steps, and as she does so, she can see into Louise’s kitchen window. It looks empty, with just a wilting plant in the middle of a pine table, but when she reaches the little courtyard at the bottom she sees Louise’s door is very slightly ajar. She knocks, but when there is no answer she pushes it open, calling Louise’s name, her voice echoing around the empty hallway. She notices Louise’s Nike Air trainers by the door. She lives in them so she must be at home. Emilia pokes her head around the kitchen door, feeling like an intruder, but she’s not there. She makes her way down the hall to the living room. ‘Louise?’ she calls again, pushing the living-room door open, and then she gasps.
Her friend is lying face down on the floor, the back of her head matted with blood.
‘Oh, my God! Louise!’ She rushes over and kneels down, touching her shoulder. ‘Lou?’ The cold hard feeling of dread presses in on her. ‘Lou …’ she says again, faintly this time, a sob in her throat, because she already knows that she’s too late, even as she presses her fingers to her friend’s neck to find a pulse. She turns her over, ready to pump her chest, give her mouth-to-mouth, anything that might help. But Louise’s skin is too pale, her lips too blue, her body unnaturally cold. She’s wearing her llama jumper and the sight of it makes Emilia cry harder. This can’t be happening.
Emilia calls an ambulance and sits next to Louise’s body, waiting for them to arrive. She holds her friend’s hand and talks to her, even though she knows it’s fruitless. ‘I’m so sorry I didn’t get your call in time. I’m so sorry, Louise. Hang in there, the ambulance is on its way.’ Her mind is whirring. Her first overriding thought on finding Louise had been to help her friend. But now, like a chink of sunlight struggling through a cloud, her thoughts push through the shock. Before she’d rolled Louise over, she’d noticed a gash to the back of her head, blood matted into her dark hair. If she’d fallen and banged her head she would be on her back, wouldn’t she? But she’d been on her front, as though hit from behind.
Emilia looks down at her friend’s pale face and gently smoothes away the hair from her forehead. She’s like a waxwork figure, no longer like Louise, and another sob escapes her lips. There is a spot of blood on the pale llama. Maybe she shouldn’t have moved her. If someone did this to Louise, the police will be looking for evidence. She carefully releases Louise’s hand and stands up, pushing down her hysteria. Just being here she could be contaminating the crime scene. She knows this from all the times she’s written about it in her books. She’ll have to remember to tell the police about the position Louise’s body had been in when she found her.