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She doesn’t reply and he regrets sounding snappish, but this investigation gets more tangled by the day. When they should be homing in on leads, more possibilities seem to be presenting themselves. It’s threatening to become overwhelming.
He releases the brake and they make their way out of the dealership and into traffic, and the silence is excruciating until Jen’s phone rings.
‘Finn?’ he says. She nods and puts the phone on speaker. ‘Have you got any word on Patrick Young?’ Hal asks.
‘Not yet, boss. We’ve sent someone to his home address to see if he’s there.’
Hal feels cold. He’s got a bad feeling about Patrick Young. ‘Finn, organise a car to sit outside the Barn tonight and for the next few nights. I want to make sure Nicole Booth is safe until we find this guy. She’s got Anna Creed there with her but that’s hardly going to protect her if Patrick comes back.’
‘Will do. I’ve got something else. Have you heard anyone mention Libby Franklin?’
58
THE DAY OF HIS DEATH: 12:10
Tom
On the sunbed by the pool, Tom feels himself falling asleep and forces himself to open his eyes. He doesn’t want Nicole to find him napping. His headache hasn’t gone away. Perhaps he needs to drink some water. It occurs to him that he might have a concussion. He had plenty during his rugby years and he knows the signs, but the hit to his head earlier was barely anything.
Distraction is what he needs, something to keep him awake. He reads some sports news on his phone, but his eyelids still feel weighted.
He checks the time. Should he call Nicole? There might be no point. She said she’d be home by lunchtime. She’s probably in the car by now. Perhaps he’ll get some lunch, but it’s a bit early for that. He wonders if she’ll bring him anything from the County Show.
The urge to see her is overwhelming, so strong that it takes him by surprise. A tear slips down his cheek and he’s not sure why, but he feels a huge sense of loss, suddenly, as if he is about to be robbed of something, of her, of all this. It must be the accumulation of all the unpleasant things that have happened to him this morning, little mishaps, threats. He experiences them sometimes, these small disintegrations of his self-worth.
He tries to sit up and his head swims. Could it be concussion? Perhaps he should go to A&E if it doesn’t settle soon. He’ll ask Nicole when she gets home.
The Three Tenors are still playing from the house on a loop. He’s had enough now but can’t be bothered to go in and try to turn the music off. He scrolls through emails, all boring until one that offers him a link to a luxury-watch website. He browses for a while then googles local golf clubs but gets bored trying to navigate the membership requirements.
He yawns and thinks about googling some porn to pass the time. It’s not something he does often. He switches his internet browser to private mode and watches couples banging each other but he’s not feeling it. The sunlight is so bright that it’s hard to see the screen properly and there’s no question of masturbating in case he’s disturbed, not that the signals are getting through his aching head to his groin, anyway. He’s totally limp down there.
He hears a shout in the distance, and it shocks him so much that he fumbles his phone in his haste to close the browser window and click out of private mode. It falls and when he bends down to pick it up his brain feels as if it’s sloshing inside his skull like a yolk in an egg. Cracks have spider-webbed acrossthe phone’s screen. He sighs, slips the phone into his pocket and wonders if he imagined what he heard. Or perhaps Nicole’s home. Thank God.
He gets up gingerly and walks around the side of the Barn towards the front door. He feels dizzy and trails a hand along the walls to steady himself as he walks. With every step, he feels as if the ground is shifting beneath him. Thank goodness Nicole’s home. He is starting to feel quite unwell.
There are no cars in the drive. Disappointment that it’s not Nicole hits him hard. ‘Hello?’ he calls. Is it a neighbour? The neighbours’ housekeeper? He doesn’t recall Nicole saying anyone else was coming over so maybe they’ve called in on spec. ‘Hello?’ he says again.
He leans against the porch to quell the bout of dizziness. The heat’s getting to him; he should go indoors. Whoever dropped round, he’s got no idea where they went. He tries the front door, but it’s locked. The thought of walking all the way back around the building is daunting. What he’d really love to do is take a swim. The water would be so soothing and cool. But he knows that’s not a good idea because he’s feeling too woozy.
Wobbly and slow, he makes his way back the way he came. At the edge of the pool, he lowers himself down carefully, takes off his shoes and puts his bare feet in the water. He kicks gently and watches ripples expand until they lap the sides. A bright red dragonfly hovers and the sun beats down on his head and shoulders, but the water cools his feet, and he feels confident that it’ll keep him alert for a while. He wants Nicole.
His mind is sending out mixed signals. He feels sleepy but also strangely hyperalert, as if all his senses are receiving signalsthat are too unwieldy for him to process. He turns around suddenly, looking over his shoulder. Was someone there? He catches sight of something in the corner of his eye. A figure, moving towards the house. Two figures? He blinks, trying not to see double. The figure has gone. He stands up. The decking is hot beneath his bare feet. He struggles to put his flip-flops on.
‘Hey,’ he calls once, but his voice is drowned out by the opera. His head pounds.
He walks towards the Barn following the figure, who went in the direction of the gym suite.
Tom rounds the corner and sees him, standing by the door into Tom’s den.
‘What are you doing?’ he says.
59
FRIDAY
Sasha
In the Great Hall, Sasha places her yoga mat in the middle of the room and sits in Padmasana. She needs to keep herself calm and this is the best way she knows how.
