someone like Lauren probably wished she lived in.
Then — and Sarah could only imagine what the woman must be thinking — she let the curtain fall back in place and waited for the drummer’s wife to come to the door.
*
Sarah’s mum was totally gracious, fetching more tea, another cup and saucer, and more of Huffington’s best while Lauren sat on the edge of the small leather wingback chair, her dad’s favourite.
The woman looked as if a stiff breeze could blow her off her perch.
And when Helen left, it was time to start.
Jack offered to take the lead. And as tough as Sarah knew Jack could be, questioning, interrogating …
She also knew he could be careful, discrete.
Sensitive in a way that could be surprising.
Disarming.
To match Lauren’s pose, Jack put down his cup and leaned forward, clasping his hands together.
A quick look and nod to Sarah.
“Lauren, we asked you here because we want to talk to you about that night.”
The woman was quick to respond. “B-but we talked about all that. Sarah here, and I, we —”
Jack nodded. “I understand.” Then, after a pause. “Really. But we’ve learned something … seen something, we want to show you.”
Then with added significance.
“Something we didn’t know.”
Sarah walked over to the video camera, the ancient tape cued to just the right spot.
They only wanted her to see one thing.
“ It will be a crap shoot ,” Jack had told Sarah before they called Lauren. “ No telling whether she will talk or go stone quiet.”
Sarah leaned down to turn the video on, but not before another glance at Lauren, her eyes wide, not knowing what was coming.
But the apprehension, fear in her eyes … was something that filled the room.
The video began.
In moments, they could all watch Lauren, Chris Wickes.
Lost to each other while Will was away.
Just the two of them, captured by a sneaky video camera.
The two of them .
As it must have been the other night.
*
For a moment — when Sarah stopped the video — Lauren said nothing.
Then, summoning up all the defiance she could, her protective purse squarely in her lap, “That was the past. Decades ago.”
Sarah looked at Jack.
This might be the very thing they feared. Lauren would say nothing.
“Yes, Lauren. Long time ago. But that night when Alex King died … there was a time … when two people were off on their own.”
Lauren had already begun shaking her head.
“You, Chris. Off by yourselves, weren’t you? And maybe the years — what’s the expression — melted away?”
“You don’t know that. Y-you don’t know anything.”
Now it was time for Jack’s gamble. More of hunch, despite the bit of evidence they had.
“If you were away from the party. Outside taking a walk. You could have seen someone go to the pool house.”
Jack’s voice was low, as if this was so hard for him to do.
He looked at Sarah. “We know that someone went in there, Lauren. We have the evidence.”
Lauren started shaking her head. “You don’t think, can’t think that I—”
Jack’s clasped hands sprung free, open, as if calming troubled waters …
“No. Not you.” A deep breath now. Sarah wanted to hold the woman at that point.
This had to be so scary for her.
Jack continued. “But you could have … seen someone else.”
Now Sarah took steps towards her.
“That’s all we care about, Lauren. What you saw.” Then — as reassuring as she could be — “nothing else.”
Lauren, Sarah thought, probably imagining her life in the village, a sleepy life of struggle and family … of so many quickly cooked meals and endless bills.
But still, despite whatever she and Chris did out in the gardens of Kingfishers, a life.
That life, endangered.
“Nothing else but that.”
Lauren opened her mouth, as if she might again mount a protest, to claim that she had done nothing, seen nothing …
But on the screen — the video, freeze framed, flickering in the way old videos did — remained
Then — and Sarah could only imagine what the woman must be thinking — she let the curtain fall back in place and waited for the drummer’s wife to come to the door.
*
Sarah’s mum was totally gracious, fetching more tea, another cup and saucer, and more of Huffington’s best while Lauren sat on the edge of the small leather wingback chair, her dad’s favourite.
The woman looked as if a stiff breeze could blow her off her perch.
And when Helen left, it was time to start.
Jack offered to take the lead. And as tough as Sarah knew Jack could be, questioning, interrogating …
She also knew he could be careful, discrete.
Sensitive in a way that could be surprising.
Disarming.
To match Lauren’s pose, Jack put down his cup and leaned forward, clasping his hands together.
A quick look and nod to Sarah.
“Lauren, we asked you here because we want to talk to you about that night.”
The woman was quick to respond. “B-but we talked about all that. Sarah here, and I, we —”
Jack nodded. “I understand.” Then, after a pause. “Really. But we’ve learned something … seen something, we want to show you.”
Then with added significance.
“Something we didn’t know.”
Sarah walked over to the video camera, the ancient tape cued to just the right spot.
They only wanted her to see one thing.
“ It will be a crap shoot ,” Jack had told Sarah before they called Lauren. “ No telling whether she will talk or go stone quiet.”
Sarah leaned down to turn the video on, but not before another glance at Lauren, her eyes wide, not knowing what was coming.
But the apprehension, fear in her eyes … was something that filled the room.
The video began.
In moments, they could all watch Lauren, Chris Wickes.
Lost to each other while Will was away.
Just the two of them, captured by a sneaky video camera.
The two of them .
As it must have been the other night.
*
For a moment — when Sarah stopped the video — Lauren said nothing.
Then, summoning up all the defiance she could, her protective purse squarely in her lap, “That was the past. Decades ago.”
Sarah looked at Jack.
This might be the very thing they feared. Lauren would say nothing.
“Yes, Lauren. Long time ago. But that night when Alex King died … there was a time … when two people were off on their own.”
Lauren had already begun shaking her head.
“You, Chris. Off by yourselves, weren’t you? And maybe the years — what’s the expression — melted away?”
“You don’t know that. Y-you don’t know anything.”
Now it was time for Jack’s gamble. More of hunch, despite the bit of evidence they had.
“If you were away from the party. Outside taking a walk. You could have seen someone go to the pool house.”
Jack’s voice was low, as if this was so hard for him to do.
He looked at Sarah. “We know that someone went in there, Lauren. We have the evidence.”
Lauren started shaking her head. “You don’t think, can’t think that I—”
Jack’s clasped hands sprung free, open, as if calming troubled waters …
“No. Not you.” A deep breath now. Sarah wanted to hold the woman at that point.
This had to be so scary for her.
Jack continued. “But you could have … seen someone else.”
Now Sarah took steps towards her.
“That’s all we care about, Lauren. What you saw.” Then — as reassuring as she could be — “nothing else.”
Lauren, Sarah thought, probably imagining her life in the village, a sleepy life of struggle and family … of so many quickly cooked meals and endless bills.
But still, despite whatever she and Chris did out in the gardens of Kingfishers, a life.
That life, endangered.
“Nothing else but that.”
Lauren opened her mouth, as if she might again mount a protest, to claim that she had done nothing, seen nothing …
But on the screen — the video, freeze framed, flickering in the way old videos did — remained
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