When the message sends, I wait for Gabby to reply. My anxious fingers drum the back of my phone, only stopping when a notification lights up the screen. The problem is, it’s from Katherine, not Gabby.
Apparently, the police found something when they were searching yesterday! No one knows what, but there are officers in Bramblethorpe chatting to people. It must be serious…
I stare at the screen, trying to digest her words long enough for a response from Natalya to appear.
Serious and more than likely that Otis has something to do with it! x
Dropping my phone on the bed, I force myself to get dressed, all the while straining to hear the muffled chatter coming from the floor below. I can’t hear what is being said, but judging by the bubbling kettle, I know Kamal is making the detectives tea. Ever the dutiful host. Ever the perfect husband.
But what am I? A wife who lied when she said she would stop getting involved. A woman scurrying around behind people’s backs. A keeper of secrets, not all of them hers.
Biting my lip, I run through the inevitable outcomes of the police visiting me. The neighbours will see them at my house. They willgossip, and then Natalya and Katherine will definitively find out that I have been part of the Alexa Clarke mystery after all.
Worse than that, Kamal will learn that I went to see Otis after promising I wouldn’t. Maybe he’ll even find out the truth about last night. Either way, he will discover my lies.
But then there’s another worry. A darker, scarier worry.
If this were a book, I’d be a suspicious character. Maybe I already am. Maybe that’s why the police are here. I mean, the stranger who randomly shows up to help, then pops up again when she’s been advised to stay away? It’s questionable, at best.
If I was writing this, I would heighten my role as the story developed, hinting that I wasn’t as new to Alexa and Otis’s story as I made out. A conversation with Alexa in the village store, perhaps, or a history of working with Otis. With my presence odd enough to create suspicion, I would transform into one thing: a suspect.
Terrified, I want to stay in my bedroom and avoid the consequences of inserting myself into a stranger’s life, but I can’t. With my nails embedded into my palms, I push myself downstairs.
The detectives are waiting for me in the living room, studying the neutral decor as if the colour of the walls can provide an insight into my psyche. They turn when I enter.
‘Janine,’ DS Rani says with a smile. ‘Thanks for seeing us so early. We’ll try to be quick so we don’t take up too much of your day.’
‘I appreciate that,’ I reply, sitting on the sofa at the same time as Kamal enters with a tray of drinks. Without looking at him, I know he’s nervous and confused.
‘I made one for you, too,’ he says, lowering the tray for me to grab a cup of tea.
‘Thanks,’ I reply, offering my husband what I hope comes across as a reassuring smile.
When the drinks are dispensed, Kamal hovers beside the coffee table. ‘Should I stay?’
‘No,’ I reply, a little too forcefully, before turning to the detectives to explain. ‘Kamal doesn’t know Alexa or Otis. He’s not involved.’
I’m not immune to the way my husband’s eyebrows arch, especially at the word ‘involved’, but Kamal cannot be in this room. If he hears how I have insisted on remaining part of Alexa’s story, he will be so disappointed.
‘I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,’ he says, turning to leave. Before he goes, he catches my eye. My features remain impassive, because no smile or ‘It will be okay’ gesture could make anyone feel better about the unannounced arrival of two detectives.
Moments after Kamal exits the room, we hear him rattle about in the kitchen, making as much noise as he can to prove he isn’t listening to our conversation.
‘Have you found Alexa? Is that why you’re here?’ I ask, smoothing my hands down my thighs to release some of my tension.
‘Not yet. Right now, we’re still piecing the situation together,’ DS Rani replies.
‘As I’m sure you can tell, it’s not the most straightforward case,’ DS Mullins adds. ‘The delay in reporting and what we’ve uncovered since we last spoke have thrown up a few questions. We’re hoping you might be able to help answer them.’
‘Sure, but I don’t know how much more I can tell you,’ I reply awkwardly.
‘Well, let’s chat and see, shall we?’ DS Rani replies. ‘Since we last saw you, we’ve made good headway with learning about Alexa’s life. Otis informed us she was attending a bereavement support group. We’re conducting interviews with her associates there as we speak. And, since we last spoke, we have learned that Alexa’s cardwas indeed being used fraudulently. A student claims to have found it on the street near Manchester University.’
My eyebrows furrow. ‘And they used it?’
‘Apparently, a life-hack TikTok inspired a trend of people using lost bank cards until they’re cancelled,’ DS Mullins replies. ‘Anything to help the cost-of-living crisis, it seems, even if it is fraud.’
As I smile tightly, DS Rani continues. ‘CCTV shows the student picking up the card.’