Page 46 of Cross Her Heart

‘Was he …?’

‘Murdered?’ She says the word for me. ‘Yes. It would appear so.’

The world doesn’t spin exactly but the straight edges of the bed and walls curve slightly as all the colours brighten. I frown. ‘But then who was sending Ava the messages? If Jon was dead?’

She looks at me as if I’m stupid. ‘Charlotte was.Lisa. Whatever you want to call her. The laptop was inherhouse. Even before this development, we were working on the assumption it was her.’

I feel like I can’t get enough air into my lungs.

‘I know it’s hard to take in, but the most likely conclusion is that this is all her doing.’

‘But why?’Oh God, Lisa. Did I know you at all?

‘We think she’s had some sort of breakdown. She’s phoned Alison – the probation officer you met – at least twice in recent weeks paranoid she was being watched. The money theft at work could be symptomatic of her mental instability. We won’t know until we find her. And until we do, we can’t be sure Ava is safe. In fact, we consider Ava to be very much at risk. Do you understand, Marilyn?’

‘But how could she—’

‘When Ava ran away she’d been alone in the flat with Lisa. Lisa reported her missing the next morning when she woke up. Anything could have happened in those hours. Lisa could have left first to set up the meeting. Anything. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

I nod, slowly, my skull heavy. ‘Lisa’s dangerous.’ I pause. ‘Fucking hell. She’s gone mad.’

Bray looks relieved that her point has finally sunk in. But this is easier for her. She didn’t know Lisa. But then didI? Ever?

‘I’ll call you straight away if I hear from her.’ My hands are trembling. Fuck, fuck, fuck. This is insane. ‘If I think of anything else you might find useful, I’ll ring.’

‘Thank you. I know this is difficult.’ Bray stands, eager to leave me and get to her crime scene.

‘Ava’s the only thing that matters.’ My throat dries, as, in the midst of all this, a selfish thought strikes me.And why not? I should get something out of this shitstorm. ‘Oh,’ I say. ‘There’s one more thing, if that’s okay.’

‘Yes?’

‘My husband. If you speak to him, be careful of what you say. He’s been trying to get me to sell my story to the papers. I wouldn’t trust him with any vital information unless you’re ready for it to be shared.’

‘Thank you. We were planning on seeing him, in case Lisa turns up there, so that’s useful to know.’

‘When you go there,’ I try to sound casual, ‘could you tell him to stay away from me and my work? It would be helpful. Until I start divorce proceedings. He can be … difficult.’ I don’t need to say more. She’s a woman. We have an implicit understanding of what sentences like that really mean.

‘No problem,’ she says. And then they’re gone.

I forget about the shower and the sandwich and go straight for the wine. I don’t want to get drunk, but I definitely need one glass. My hands are trembling as I pour it and take the first sip. Lisa. Has Lisa done all this? I remember Ava’s sixteenth birthday, only a few weeks ago, but it feels like a lifetime. I’d asked Lisa about Ava’s dad and if she ever heard from him. She’d shut me down as she always did. Had she already killed him?

This is different from trying to accept that my best friend had once been Charlotte Nevill. That waspast. This is present. She did this while going to work with me, eating Chinese takeaways, idolising myperfect marriageand worrying about Ava’s exams. How could she have been sending those messages to Ava? Killing Jon? All that while? Am I that stupid?

Someone isn’t who they say they are.

Katie’s body was never recovered.

No. No. No. Those thoughts will make me as crazy as Lisa, and sheiscrazy. Maybe she’s had some kind of schizophrenic breakdown and is having episodes as Katie? Maybe living as a different person for so long, always afraid of being discovered, has snapped her? Maybe she’s created aKatieto deal with the bad shit. Maybe it’s one of those psychotic breaks like in the films, and she doesn’tknowwhen she’s being Katie?

I like that thought. It gives me a little wave of relief. It’s better than the alternative – that I didn’t notice my sweet best friend was batshit fucking dangerous crazy. I can’t get my head around the alternative at all. She couldn’t have done it consciously. Could she?

It all pummels at my skull until I realise it’s getting dark outside. It’s ten p.m. and I’m still sitting here, holding the same glass of warm wine.

Fuck the shower. Fuck it all. Without even brushing my teeth, I crawl into bed.

46

LISA

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