He knows with absolute certainty that he can’t ever mention Marni. But he can give his wife something.
“I promise.” Zara purses her lips, trying to mask her moment of pure triumph.
“Okay.” Chris pauses, thinking it through one last time. It should be okay to tell her this. “The doctor they sent up today, Dr. Lewis, she’s a specialist from London. She was hired by…well, let’s put it this way, our orders at the station are now coming in from slightly higher up the food chain than before.” Zara’s brows knit together. “It looks like the government has stepped in on this in some way,” Chris clarifies. “They’re trying to keep everything locked down up here around this guy for some reason. And before you ask, I don’t know what the reason for that is. I have no idea.”
Zara nods thoughtfully.
Chris continues. “And this fucking hotline has completely swamped us, Zee, there’s too many calls to process. Too many leads. Ever since the story broke. We’ve got people calling saying he’s an illegal immigrant, people saying he’s their missing husband or missing son, people saying he looks like an actor they recognize from TV, people saying they saw him in Scotland the day before—you name it, people are saying it.” He stops, noticing Zara reach for her mobile phone. “So don’t write anything about the station, Zee. You can write about other stuff but not the station. We’re handling it.”
“Sure, no problem. I’ll leave you guys out of it.” She rises, leans over the table, and kisses his forehead in one quick motion. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you,” she singsongs as she dances back to her laptop.
Chris sighs. He lets his forehead rest flat on the table in front of him for a second. As she wanders back in he raises his head to look up at her.
“And, Chris hon, you can’t say any more about this government thing, can you?” she asks. Chris lets out another groan.
“No, okay, don’t worry,” she adds hastily. “But this doctor. Who is she? I mean, has she done anything like this before? Has she worked for the government on anything else?”
Oh shit. Not Marni. He raises his head now. He thought if he gave Zara something to go on, she’d be happy. “I don’t know,” he replies. “I don’t know if she has. But I doubt it.”
Zara looks up sharply at this. “Why do you doubt it?”
“I don’t know,” Chris flounders. “I guess, she’s young, ish. Well, about my age.”Shit,he thinks. “And, I don’t know, she just seems…well, as in the dark about this as everyone else. From what I sensed…meeting her today.”
Chris is a bad liar, he knows this. Better to just avoid questions in the future, he thinks. Thankfully, Zara seems satisfied by his awful answer and wanders out of the kitchen. He lets the tension in his shoulders release and gently rests his head back down on the tabletop.
He wonders if Emma has worked for the government before. Because it’s incredibly strange that they chose her for this job, considering her history up here. Whoever assigned her must have known what happened, and surely they’d realize how much the press finding out would harm the investigation, wouldn’t they?
But the press won’t find out, he tells himself. He’ll make sure of that. But if someone else recognizes her, he wouldn’t be able to control that. Hell,herecognized her right away. But then, he would, wouldn’t he, he’d spent the formative years of his life staring at her and her brother across classrooms and playing fields. Other people might not have looked so hard, they might not see Marni’s features hidden in Emma’s adult face. There’s no way Zara will see it. Emma Lewis doesn’t look anything like Marni Beaufort, that’s for sure, not anymore.
—
Later that night, while Chris is brushing his teeth in the bathroom, his mobile phone receives a text message. Zara leans across the bed and checks it. There’s no name for this contact on his phone, just a number she doesn’t recognize.
Sorry to text so late. Would it be possible to get a list of past employees at Waltham House? I can’t say why just yet but I think it might be helpful. Also, might have to rain check that drink. Snowed under.
Emma x
Zara stares at the words intently, as all the possible permutations of what they could mean blow like a forest fire through her mind. Leaving sadness in their wake.
The sounds of Chris pottering in the bathroom drift in to her, she opens her mouth to call to him, so he can explain, tell her it’s all a misunderstanding, she’s got the wrong end of the stick, but she stops herself. Better to wait and see, she reasons. After all, if she asks him now, he might lie and she’s not sure she could handle that. And after a moment that seems to stretch back through their entire lives together, Zara places Chris’s phone back down where she found it. She wriggles quietly down into the soft comforting cotton of their bed and reaches up to turn out her bedside light.
25
DR. EMMA LEWIS
DAY 9—THE NIGHT IT HAPPENED
Chris didn’t text me back, but that doesn’t mean anything, does it? He was probably already asleep. Lucky sod. I look down at my mobile on the bench next to me. The clock reads 02:00A.M.
I can’t sleep. Guilt, too many thoughts, too many feelings, flowing through me. And I’ve only been back one day.
I sip my tea and look up at the stars. I’ve come out for fresh air. I thought about jumping in the car and driving all the way to a petrol garage to buy a pack of cigarettes, but I made a steamy mug of tea instead and came out here to clear my head. It’s not as scary out here as it was before. The darkness is somehow comforting.
Looking up past the trees, I can see the glittering arch of the Milky Way carving across the night sky.
It’s beautiful, but everything here reminds me of the past, of what happened, especially this sky. I’m so tired of trying not to think about it.
—
