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She has no idea how she’s going to do that. She can’t think about it yet. Hopefully, Patrick will keep his word and sort it out for her.
She turns back to the windows. The dusky light and fast-moving clouds are creating a patchwork of shadows that are constantly transforming in shape and scale. She thinks how easy it would be to lurk outside, unnoticed, on a night like this. They built this place to give them exceptional views but never really considered how easy it would make it for them to be observed, too. Why not? It’s not as if nothing bad had ever happened to either of them.
‘Blinds down,’ she says, and they obey. The evening lights come on in the living area.
‘Don’t you want to enjoy the last of the daylight?’ Patrick asks. He’s chopping again. Yellow peppers. The knife is moving so fast she worries he might cut himself.
‘I don’t want anyone looking in. If it wasn’t an accident, it must have been a robbery gone wrong, don’t you think?’ she asks. She wants reassurance. Again. She’s asked him this countless times already.
‘In my mind, knowing Tom and you, it’s one of the most likely explanations. Even considering the coffee cups.’
‘But who drank coffee with him?’
‘I don’t know. A neighbour?’
She frowns. Could it have been? She thinks it unlikely. ‘I guess the police will look at that.’
‘How long will the DNA results take to come back?’
‘Jen said up to a week. They’ll only get a match if the person is already in the system.’
‘Then we have to be patient,’ he says. He adds the yellow peppers to the pan. Steam rises as he stirs them in and the oil spits. Patrick looks tired, she thinks. Perhaps she’s laying too much on him. He’s grieving, too.
‘I’m sorry to land everything on you,’ she says. ‘Everything circles round and round in my mind. It’s the not knowing that’s so horrible.’
‘It’s fine,’ he says. ‘It’s why I’m here. To be honest, it’s probably helping me just as much as you. I’ve been feeling guilty about Tom.’
‘Guilty? Why?’
‘The depression,’ Patrick says. ‘I should have been there for him. I haven’t been a very good friend. I should have done more for him, but I was finally starting to make something of my life. I was being selfish.’
Nicole stares. ‘What depression?’
24
WEDNESDAY
Jen
Detective Jen Walsh watches Sasha closely. The evening has turned cloudy over the Manor, darkening Olly Palmer’s study. Its windows, leaded and set deep in stone surrounds, don’t let in much light.
She’s just had a message from the Incident Room saying that there’s no way to tell how or why the security cameras at the Barn weren’t working on the morning of Tom’s death. It’s disappointing.
Sasha smiles serenely at Steen as he repeats questions that he already asked her the first time they met. She’s a cool cat, Jen thinks. Most people are more perturbed by a death happening close to them, but Sasha appears poised and seemingly completely in control of how she presents. Her posture is impeccable, shoulders back, stomach in, legs carefully positioned so Jen and Steen can see the contours of her long thighs beneaththe tight sheen of her yoga pants. Her trainers are shiny white, and Jen has never seen such perfectly groomed hair outside a salon.
This woman, Jen thinks, invests a lot of time in herself. She had the same impression of Olly, too. Even though he presented in a more disarming way, best described as shabby writer or academic, it felt studied, like a costume: Harry Potter glasses; a good shirt but with a delicately frayed collar; old, soft khaki trousers and desert boots that had seen better days.
They make an interesting couple. Different on the surface, but each of them displaying a certain command of themselves. It’s not quite arrogance, but almost. They’re like cats who’ve got the cream, Jen thinks.
But Sasha isn’t completely in control. Watching her carefully, Jen decides that Steen is making her feel uncomfortable. Jen notes a subtle tightening in Sasha’s posture and around her eyes. Discomfort is disrupting her poise. Interesting, Jen thinks, though it’s not unusual for people to feel uneasy during police questioning.
‘How long have you lived here?’ Steen asks.
‘Five years.’
He asks her the same question he asked Olly about whether they bought the Manor, and she provides almost identical responses, also naming the owner as Anna Creed.
‘Where does Anna live now?’ Steen asks.
