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“I’m so sorry,” the constable says.
My brain won’t work. “Are you talking about Maddie? Madeleine Rutherford?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What… how… how do you know it’s her?”
The sergeant leans forward, his hands clasped. “Apparently she was walking along the coastal path with her baby, and—”
“Leia?” I inhale sharply. “Is she—”
“She’s fine,” the constable says quickly. “She was found in her carry seat, still attached to the stroller, by an elderly couple who were out walking. She was asleep, and we don’t think she’d been there for long, because it’s quite a busy path. Madeleine’s purse and phone were tucked beside the baby. Her purse had her driver’s license in it, as well as your business card.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe—”
“Sir,” the sergeant says, “the couple called emergency services. The fire service came out and found your sister’s body at the base of the cliff. We will need you to come and identify her, but from the photo on her license, we’re sure it’s her.”
“I’m so sorry,” the constable says again.
I feel nauseous. “Oh God. What happened? Did she fall?”
“We don’t know yet, sir.”
“Jesus, was… was she pushed off? Was anyone else seen around there?”
“We don’t think her death was suspicious. May I ask, when was the last time you spoke to Madeleine?”
“Yesterday. About seven p.m.”
“I’m very sorry to have to ask this, sir, but how was she?”
I frown. “She’s not been well. She had mastitis, and a fever. She’s been suffering from postnatal depression, too.” The two of them exchange a look, and suddenly I realize why they asked. “Wait—you think she took her own life?”
“We don’t know yet, sir.”
My jaw drops. “You think she leaped off a cliff and left her four-month-old baby in her stroller?”
“I don’t know, sir. But we have to consider it’s a possibility.”
I can’t believe it. I knew she was feeling low, but would she really have taken her own life? And not even dropped Leia off somewhere, or left her with me, but just stuck her in her stroller where anyone could have found her? I don’t believe it. I won’t believe it.
And yet she had postnatal depression, and last night she rang me because she was feeling low. She said, It’s no fun being alone. And, even worse, she told me, You know I love you, right? She rarely made soppy declarations like that. It was almost as if she knew it was the last time she was going to speak to me.
I should have gone over there. I should have made her come back with me. Oh God. Maddie’s dead, and it’s all my fault. What have I done?
Chapter Ten
Aroha
I shuffle some papers around on the table, but I’m not concentrating. It’s impossible not to keep glancing at James’s office. He’s clearly visible through the glass walls, and even though I don’t want to intrude, it’s obvious that the police are delivering some bad news.
The guys aren’t even pretending to work—they’re all standing, murmuring in low voices.
“Do you think it’s his dad?” Tyson asks. “I don’t think he’s been well since his heart attack in March.”
“I think if that was the case, he’d…” Henry’s voice trails off. I look up and follow his gaze. James is sitting forward with his elbows on his knees, his head dipped, and his hands sunk into his hair. Slowly, I get to my feet, my heart racing.
“It’s not his dad,” Alex says. “Someone would have phoned him from Australia. The police wouldn’t call personally.”
