‘Yes?’
I don’t want to ask him, but I know that I must.
‘The guy they arrested. What happened?’
‘What do you mean, what happened?’
Tell me the truth, I think. Tell me the truth, without me demanding it, and maybe we still have a chance.
‘You told me they charged him.’
He’s silent, and I know what Anna told me is right, and Hugh knows I know it, too.
I hear him cough. ‘I’m sorry.’
I don’t speak. I can hardly breathe, but I have to stay calm.
‘I thought I was doing the right thing. Julia?’
I tell myself everything will be fine. Hugh will call the police, they’ll be on their way soon. I try to tell myself that whatever he’s done, Lukas is Connor’s father. He might take him somewhere, but he won’t hurt him.
I should tell him. I should tell Hugh why we’re here. But I can’t. Not like this.
‘Just call the police and get here. Please.’
I run up to Anna’s building, then try the handle. I’m in luck. The digital entry lock is broken, as she told me it often is. The door opens and I step inside, closing it softly behind me.
I don’t turn on the light but climb the stairs. On the first landing I see Anna’s door, just as I remember it. A dull light shines through the glass panels, but when I stand beside it and listen I hear no sound. No voices, no shouting. Nothing. I go over to the writing bureau and, as softly as I can, pull out the drawer, praying that the key Anna stowed under it hasn’t been removed, and that she hasn’t changed her locks since I was last here.
My luck holds. It’s there, taped to the underside. I take it and stand once again outside Anna’s door. Still no sound. I let myself in. The light in the hallway is on, there’s a vase of dead flowers on the side table. I step forward; the creak of my shoes sounds improbably loud in the silence.
The apartment seems much larger in the dark. It takes all my willpower not to shout out, not to ask if anyone’s there. I realize I don’t know which I’m hoping for more; that someone is, or that the place is empty.
I search the apartment. One room at a time. The TV is on in the living room – some news channel, but muted – and in the kitchen I see that a chair is overturned and the sticky brown remains of a meal smear the walls. My foot crunches underfoot; when I look down I see the remains of the striped blue bowl that must have once contained it.
I carry on. I look in Kate’s bedroom then move on to Anna’s. I hesitate outside. I wonder what I might find in there. I picture Kate, with her head staved in, her hair matted with blood, her eyes open and limbs twisted.
I take a breath and swallow. I push open the door.
The bed glows blood red in the dim light, but when I flick on the light it’s just the duvet cover, slipped off the end of the bed. The room is as empty as the rest of the apartment.
I don’t understand. I take out my phone, switch on Find Friends. The purple dot still blinks, now superimposed on mine, right here, right where I’m standing. She should be here.
I press call. For a second I hear the international tone, and then there’s a buzzing, low and insistent, from somewhere near my feet. I bend down. A phone is rattling across the floor under the bed, flashing as it goes. It must’ve fallen to the floor, been kicked under there. I get on to my hands and knees and grab it, and at the same time see that there’s something else under there, too, something shiny and metallic. The gun.
I freeze. I don’t want to touch it. I wonder how it got here, under the bed. I imagine her and Lukas fighting, Anna going for the gun, trying to threaten him. Maybe it was kicked under here in the struggle. Or maybe she never got that far. Maybe she kept the gun here and didn’t even have the chance to go for it.
But where’s Connor?
I feel the world collapsing, begin to disintegrate. I breathe deeply and tell myself I have to stay calm. I sit on the bed, the gun beside me. Anna’s phone shows my missed call, but there’s another message, a text that has been sent to the phone from a number I don’t recognize. ‘Julia,’ it says. ‘If you want to find Connor, return this call.’
I hesitate, but only for a moment. I have no choice. I swipe the screen and the phone connects.
It’s a video call. After a moment, it’s answered; the outline of a face appears. It’s Lukas, he’s sitting in darkness, in front of a window. His body is blocking what little light comes in from the street outside, throwing him into silhouette. For a second I’m reminded of those true-crime TV shows, the victim unrecognizable, her voice disguised, but then my mind goes to the times we’ve chatted on video before.
‘You found the phone.’
I take a deep breath, try to muster as much courage as I can. I put my hand on the gun beside me; it gives me some kind of strength. ‘What d’you want?’ My voice still cracks. I’m aware of how impotent the question sounds.
He leans forward. His face is illuminated by the glow from his screen. He’s smiling.
He’s unchanged, yet I don’t recognize him at all. The Lukas I knew has gone completely.
‘Where’s Connor?’
‘I have no idea.’
His words are loaded with threat.
‘Let me see him.’
He ignores me. ‘Like I said, I’ve decided I want Connor’s share of your sister’s money.’
I know he’s lying. His words are flat, and unconvincing. Even if I didn’t know the truth, I’d be able to tell.
‘This isn’t about money. I know who you are.’
‘Really?’
I close my eyes. Hatred pours into me; my mind will not be still. How long has this man been talking to my son? His father, pretending to be his girlfriend.
For a moment I feel huge, unstoppable, as if my hatred is limitless and I could transcend the hardware that links us, the fibre optics, the satellites, and destroy him simply by willing it.
Yet I know I can’t. I force myself to refocus on the screen. Lukas is still talking, but I can’t hear him.
‘Let him go,’ I say. ‘Let them both go. What have they ever done to you?’
He doesn’t answer. He ignores me. He holds up the memory stick. ‘I told you what would happen if you didn’t leave me and Anna alone …’
An image swims into view. Me and him, in a hotel room, fucking. I have one hand on the headboard; he’s behind me. I feel sick.
‘Don’t do this. Please. Let me see Connor.’
He laughs. ‘Too late. I told you I’d tell your family the truth.’
He stands up, holding his camera phone in front of him so that his face remains static. It looks as though it’s the background that’s wheeling violently, a ship upturned. A bare light bulb spins into view – dead, I guess, or not switched on – and then a glass-panelled doorway, beyond which must be another room, and next to it a cooker.
‘Julia …’ he says. The image spins again, then freezes; he’s standing still, as if deep in thought. Over his shoulder I can see a window, through it the street. ‘I want Connor’s share of your sister’s money. It seems only fair, as I won’t be getting Anna’s any more.’
I can’t understand why he’s doing this. ‘I know this isn’t about the fucking money!’ I’m shouting, my anger coursing through me, a boiling intensity. ‘I know who you are, you creep!’
He ignores me. ‘Don’t forget those pictures. Tell you what. Why don’t you stay there tonight? Make yourself at home, I’m sure Anna won’t mind. Then tomorrow, first thing, I’ll come round. You can give me the money, and then you can have this.’ He holds up the memory stick once again. ‘Or else I can give it to your family. It’s up to you.’
I’m silent. I have nothing to say, nowhere to turn.
‘Right. Until tomorrow, then.’ He laughs. I’m about to answer when he says, ‘And if you like we can have one last fuck, just for old time’s sake.’
And then he’s gone.
I stand up. My rage is volcanic, yet impotent. I want to lash out, to smash and destroy, but there’s nothing I can do. I look down at the gun and pick it up. It feels heavy in my hand.
I don’t have time to think. The police haven’t turned up yet, but they might be here soon. A wasted journey for them, but I’ve effectively broken in. I’m holding a gun, they’ll ask questions. I have to get out. I pick up the pistol and rummage through the chest of drawers over by the window. I pull out a lemon sweater and wrap the gun in it, then put it in my bag. I close the door behind me as I leave, then slam down the stairs.