edge of the marital bed.
Ryan’s mother doesn’t look at me all the while, and I withdraw back into Lauren’s bedroom to reduce the woman’s obvious distress. I see her gently close the master bedroom door until only a narrow sliver of off-white carpet is visible. The sound of voices never rises above a murmur.
Ryan joins me a moment later, turns Lauren’s white desk chair around and straddles it, facing me.
‘He didn’t do it,’ he says simply, his eyes holding mine. ‘You have to believe me. And neither did I — even Brenda will vouch for that, because we were together for most of the night. Still, half the town thinks it’s an inside job and the other half is willing to believe it. It’s two years tomorrow, did you know? It’s burned into my brain, how long she’s been gone.’
I am silent. I hadn’t let Stewart Daley touch me for long enough the day I got here to make a judgment about his guilt or innocence. Hadn’t let the maelstrom in his head fully play out before I cut the connection with him. Maybe he did it, maybe he didn’t. I am sure about 123
one thing, however. Ryan is innocent.
Two years tomorrow. Two years of hopeless leads, and suspicion upon this house. Where would you even begin to unearth a buried mystery of two years?
‘Who saw her last?’ I say suddenly. ‘Was anyone with her on the day she was taken?’
Ryan frowns. ‘She’d spent the day with her boyfriend, Richard Coates. But she was home alone that night because they’d argued about going to the twenty-first birthday party of some stoner friend of his. Lauren detested the guy. Richard and Lauren had zero in common, but they were absolutely crazy about each other. Though they had some spectacular fights. I could always tell after they’d had a bust-up, even though Lauren wouldn’t say much about it. Mum and Dad were away for the night — at the theatre. Mum always said we might have moved away from the city but it didn’t mean we had to “live like savages” and give up on “the finer things”, though Dad didn’t see it that way. There hasn’t been a play written that he can’t sleep through from the moment the curtain goes up.’
His mouth quirks up at the corners before his expression grows sombre again. He meets my speculative gaze steadily. ‘My mother swears Dad was right beside 124
her the whole night. And that’s what they told the police. She still blames herself, you know. Hasn’t been to the theatre, to anything, since. It’s like she cauterised that whole side of her brain,’ he adds, looking down.
‘The fun side. The ability to be happy. When we lost Lauren, we lost my mother, too.’
He’s silent so long I wonder if he is … crying ?
‘So, this Richard guy,’ I say. ‘He got an alibi, too?’
Ryan finally comes back from wherever he’s been inside his head.
‘At least thirty-five half-drunk twenty-somethings insisted in writing that Richard was party hearty from seven thirty that night through till dawn. And Maury Charlton told the police he saw Lauren moving freely around her bedroom at 9.15 pm. Alone .’
‘I’ve got a choir rehearsal at 8 am tomorrow,’ I say carefully. ‘But I could always extend my double spares in the morning kind of indefinitely …’
‘You’re on,’ Ryan says, a shark-like grin on his face, his understanding pitch perfect.
* * *
I should be in study hall, considering the population 125
profile and proclivities of the citizens of Upper Angola or somewhere, but instead we’re driving down the deserted coast road away from Paradise towards Port Marie. Along the way, we pass an abandoned military base, its mile upon mile of rusting steel fence culminating in a set of chained gates at least twenty feet high, peppered with the usual threatening messages about private property being exactly that.
A little farther along the stretch of swampy marshland that links the two coastal towns, there is a discreetly signed turn-off for an oil refinery. In
Ryan’s mother doesn’t look at me all the while, and I withdraw back into Lauren’s bedroom to reduce the woman’s obvious distress. I see her gently close the master bedroom door until only a narrow sliver of off-white carpet is visible. The sound of voices never rises above a murmur.
Ryan joins me a moment later, turns Lauren’s white desk chair around and straddles it, facing me.
‘He didn’t do it,’ he says simply, his eyes holding mine. ‘You have to believe me. And neither did I — even Brenda will vouch for that, because we were together for most of the night. Still, half the town thinks it’s an inside job and the other half is willing to believe it. It’s two years tomorrow, did you know? It’s burned into my brain, how long she’s been gone.’
I am silent. I hadn’t let Stewart Daley touch me for long enough the day I got here to make a judgment about his guilt or innocence. Hadn’t let the maelstrom in his head fully play out before I cut the connection with him. Maybe he did it, maybe he didn’t. I am sure about 123
one thing, however. Ryan is innocent.
Two years tomorrow. Two years of hopeless leads, and suspicion upon this house. Where would you even begin to unearth a buried mystery of two years?
‘Who saw her last?’ I say suddenly. ‘Was anyone with her on the day she was taken?’
Ryan frowns. ‘She’d spent the day with her boyfriend, Richard Coates. But she was home alone that night because they’d argued about going to the twenty-first birthday party of some stoner friend of his. Lauren detested the guy. Richard and Lauren had zero in common, but they were absolutely crazy about each other. Though they had some spectacular fights. I could always tell after they’d had a bust-up, even though Lauren wouldn’t say much about it. Mum and Dad were away for the night — at the theatre. Mum always said we might have moved away from the city but it didn’t mean we had to “live like savages” and give up on “the finer things”, though Dad didn’t see it that way. There hasn’t been a play written that he can’t sleep through from the moment the curtain goes up.’
His mouth quirks up at the corners before his expression grows sombre again. He meets my speculative gaze steadily. ‘My mother swears Dad was right beside 124
her the whole night. And that’s what they told the police. She still blames herself, you know. Hasn’t been to the theatre, to anything, since. It’s like she cauterised that whole side of her brain,’ he adds, looking down.
‘The fun side. The ability to be happy. When we lost Lauren, we lost my mother, too.’
He’s silent so long I wonder if he is … crying ?
‘So, this Richard guy,’ I say. ‘He got an alibi, too?’
Ryan finally comes back from wherever he’s been inside his head.
‘At least thirty-five half-drunk twenty-somethings insisted in writing that Richard was party hearty from seven thirty that night through till dawn. And Maury Charlton told the police he saw Lauren moving freely around her bedroom at 9.15 pm. Alone .’
‘I’ve got a choir rehearsal at 8 am tomorrow,’ I say carefully. ‘But I could always extend my double spares in the morning kind of indefinitely …’
‘You’re on,’ Ryan says, a shark-like grin on his face, his understanding pitch perfect.
* * *
I should be in study hall, considering the population 125
profile and proclivities of the citizens of Upper Angola or somewhere, but instead we’re driving down the deserted coast road away from Paradise towards Port Marie. Along the way, we pass an abandoned military base, its mile upon mile of rusting steel fence culminating in a set of chained gates at least twenty feet high, peppered with the usual threatening messages about private property being exactly that.
A little farther along the stretch of swampy marshland that links the two coastal towns, there is a discreetly signed turn-off for an oil refinery. In
Similar Books
