The One Who Got Away (20 page)

‘And Loren agreed with this plan?'

‘Oh, she wasn't responding, Liz,' he said, as if in dismay. ‘I practically had to drag her back to our house. I had to stand her in the garden and strip her out of the clothes she had been wearing. I had to shove her into the shower …'

‘Why the shower?'

‘DNA. She was worried that some of Lyric's blood or DNA had gotten on her clothes. I said, “Lyric has been in my car. I've
been in her house. We're all contaminated with each other.” But just to be sure, we scrubbed each other.'

‘And then went to bed?'

‘We did go to bed, but we didn't sleep. We were too panicked for that.'

‘Alright,' I said, ‘and then what happened?'

‘Around nine am, I went to the office,' said David.

I let that answer hang in the air for a second, then said: ‘Excuse me? With your wife a rocking mess at home, you went into the
office
?'

‘I had to. I'd told my staff I'd be coming in. I didn't want to make a sudden change of plans. I raced through the things I needed to do, and raced home again, and that's when I saw Molly Franklin's car, parked on our driveway.'

‘Molly's car. In your driveway?'

‘Yes, and it horrified me, because I couldn't work out why Molly would be there.'

‘And why was she there?'

‘I still have no idea. All I know is, I found the two of them in our kitchen with two cups of tea and a box of tissues between them. I didn't want to act panicked, so I just said: “What's going on?” – like, warily. Loren said: “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I asked Molly yesterday to come over with some Mexican SIM cards, so we don't get those huge bills from roaming.” I said: “Oh, good idea.” And Molly said: “It's no drama. I have a bunch of them.”'

‘Okay,' I said, ‘and then what happened?'

‘I was desperate to get out of the house, so I looked at my watch and said: “Look, we have to go.” Loren slid off her stool and Molly got up, and they kissed and carried on, and Molly finally left. I said something like: “What did you tell her?” because I don't trust Molly. But Loren insisted that she hadn't
told her anything, and I believed her, because although Molly likes to tell people that she is close to Loren, that's not actually true.'

‘Fair enough,' I said, ‘and then?'

‘Then we had to get moving,' said David. ‘We also had to deal with the problem of what to do with the clothes Loren had been wearing. And the dishcloth. I asked her: “Didn't you pack an extra bag?” Because Loren almost always took an extra bag when she went on holidays, to stuff with new clothes, or gifts for the girls. She said yes, so I went and got her suitcase, and took out the extra bag she'd packed, which was one of those collapsible, canvas bags, with wheels on the bottom and a pull-up handle. I opened it up, and stuffed Loren's clothes into it, mixed in a few of my own, stuck the dishcloth in there, and said, you know, “We have to go.”'

‘With Lyric still on the floor in her kitchen?'

‘Right. And trying not to think about that, obviously. Because that was unbearable. But I also had to deal with Loren. It was like she was having a nervous breakdown. I kept saying: “Loren, there are cameras in the garage. You can't get into the car crying. You have to look like a woman who is excited about going on her second honeymoon. You have to pull yourself together.” She said: “I can't,” and I said: “You can. You
must
. This is California, Loren.
This is a death-row state
.”'

‘I see. And that focused Loren's mind?'

‘It absolutely did,' said David. ‘Loren took a deep breath, stood up and walked with me to the elevator. I began shoving our suitcases through. I said something like: “Cruise ship, here we come!” for the cameras. So it would look like we were a normal couple heading out on a holiday. Loren climbed into the passenger seat. We drove out of the garage, onto Mountain View
Road. And it was absolutely terrifying, driving to the airport, trying to stay in the speed limit. Every police car, I assumed was for me. But eventually we got there. And we handed in the bags. And that was terrifying, too, because I kept thinking, somebody is going to stop us, and examine what's inside. But the girl at check-in just made small talk about how light Loren's extra bag was, and how much fun she was going to have shopping. And eventually, it was time to board. So all we needed now was to get Loren onto the plane. My heart was racing as we headed towards the gate. But Loren did really well. She held it together.'

‘And for viewers who perhaps don't know, how long is the flight down to Cabo?'

‘It's barely three hours. A driver took us from Cabo airport to our villa. Staff came out with cold juice. The manager wanted to chat but I said: “We're tired from our early flight; I think perhaps a rest.” We went straight to our room, and I put the
PLEASE DO NOT DISTURB
sign on the door, and Loren basically fell apart again.'

‘Fell apart how?'

‘She was worried about security cameras at Lyric's apartment. I said to her: “There are no cameras. Now, please, don't cry. Stop crying. There are no cameras.” Then she started saying: “I can't believe I did this,” and I had to say: “It was an accident, Loren. You had a moment of madness. It was a terrible accident that we have to put behind us, because if we try to go back now, if we try to explain, nobody will believe us.” Which, of course, nobody does.'

 

‘When the going gets tough,
the tough get going!'

Tweet posted by Molly Franklin

 

M
y father and I left Gail's office in an embassy car, thinking that we'd be able to inspect Loren's cabin aboard the
Silver Lining.
But by the time we reached the port, the ship had already sailed.

‘But how can that be?' I said as we stood there gazing out over the sea. ‘My sister is missing off that ship. Don't the police have to do an investigation? Don't they have to speak to passengers and crew?'

By my side stood a well-groomed representative of the company that owned the
Silver Lining
. According to her business card, she was Melissa Haas, Guest Relations Manager. She wore a white silk blouse that was moving gently in the breeze.

‘I realise this is disappointing for you, but we had little choice other than to let the ship sail,' said Melissa in her Dutch-accented English. ‘We had another cruise to get underway. Two hundred paying passengers. A whole new crew. The police examined your sister's cabin. They took statements from the captain and the crew. They spoke to Mr Wynne-Estes. I understand that you would have liked to have had an opportunity to see the cabin, too, but as difficult as this is for you personally, we do have commercial
responsibilities to our guests. But I want to assure you that we will cooperate with any investigation into your sister's death.'

I turned sharply. ‘Death?'

‘I'm sorry,' said Melissa. ‘I know it hasn't been confirmed.'

‘No, it hasn't,' I said.

We walked from the port to Melissa's office, ignoring shrieks from holidaymakers on jet-skis and the hawkers selling fake Viagra.

Melissa invited us to sit, arranged for cool drinks to be brought in, and rested her pretty hands on her desk.

‘We know from Mr Wynne-Estes that Mrs Wynne-Estes was extremely distressed on this cruise, for a whole range of reasons. It seems that your sister had quite a bit to drink on the night of the Captain's Dinner, both during the dinner and afterwards,' she said gently. ‘The champagne bottle from the bar fridge in her cabin was empty and David agreed to blood-alcohol testing after the ship came in. He was not intoxicated.'

‘David could have emptied the bottle in the sink,' said Dad. ‘She's not a drinker.'

He was adamant, and why not? He was right. Loren wasn't much of a drinker. Maybe when she was younger and still living in New York. She had a bit of a thing for a while for green apple martinis. But that was when Loren was young and irresponsible. That was before Hannah. That was before Peyton. That was before Loren morphed into a High Side mom.

‘She definitely wasn't a drunk,' I confirmed, ‘and if somebody says they saw her drunk, can we talk to them? Because I don't really believe that.'

Melissa smiled her gentle smile. ‘I can't imagine how hard this must be,' she said, ‘but I'm not sure that we can just give out the passenger manifesto.'

‘Forget that. What I want to know is, how far from shore was she when she was pushed?' said Dad. I could feel the desperation behind the question. ‘There's no way she could swim in, I suppose? But what about a passing boat? I mean, out here today, there's a dozen cruise ships on the horizon. Isn't it possible that somebody has picked Loren up?'

Melissa turned her tender smile in his direction. ‘But they would have notified us,' she said sadly, ‘and as awful as this will sound, we do have some experience with this kind of thing. It's devastating for the families but when somebody decides to take their life like this …'

‘Stop,' I said. ‘How do we know that nobody on board the
Silver Lining
saw anything suspicious? Like David and Loren arguing? Because you know he was having an affair, don't you?'

‘We do,' said Melissa. ‘He did tell us that, yes. He told the police that, too. And I can see how bad that looks for him, but the captain personally ran the data from the swipe keys through his computer, and Mr Wynne-Estes' story about his wife leaving her cabin alone checked out,' she added, patiently. ‘He doesn't go near the spot where she went missing, for more than an hour, and he can be seen searching for her moments after reaching that deck. Nevertheless, the captain stopped the ship. We searched every room. We asked passengers to help us. We returned to port. The police here spoke at great length to Mr Wynne-Estes. He explained about the tension in the marriage and how difficult things have been financially, and he offered to surrender to police in the US immediately upon his return to California. We looked at all the CCTV footage, Ms Franklin. What we saw was Mrs Wynne-Estes leaving her room, and her husband frantically trying to find her. We saw her disappear around that corner; she was not seen again.'

* * *

What point was there in staying in Mexico after that? I couldn't see any point, and so, less than a day later, we were back in California.

My iPhone started beeping with messages pretty much the second our plane touched down on US soil. Mom had been calling but so had Aaron Radcliffe from the
Bugle
, saying he had a very important piece of information for me.

I'd been reluctant to speak to him and I was definitely sceptical, but I called him back. ‘I have no comment,' I said.

‘That's fine,' he said. ‘I'm just calling to tell you something that you may not know.'

‘Like what?'

‘Like David arrived home this morning, and I don't know how he did this, but he shot through a side door at the airport, and we were lucky to get a picture.'

‘That's it?'

‘Of course that's not it. I've got big news. I'm just painting the picture. From that point, it was like the O.J. Simpson convoy down the freeway,' Aaron continued, ‘until we got to the police station. The Chief of Police – Captain Sullivan – came out. I've never seen that before. He came out and shook David's hand. They went inside. Three hours we cooled our heels on the sidewalk.'

I reached towards the carousel and grabbed Dad's bag by its purple belt.

‘You're not telling me anything interesting,' I said.

‘No, but wait. You're not going to believe what happened next.'

‘Tell me.'

‘The police chief came out, saying he had news for us. We were all standing waiting, thinking, okay, they're going to charge him. But guess what he said?'

‘I give up,' I said, impatiently.

‘He said that David had a mistress, and guess what? She's also dead. It's just massive, Molly.'

‘What?'

‘Yes,' said Aaron. Probably in spite of himself, he started speaking in an excited voice. ‘From what they said, David has told police that your sister – Loren – found out about his affair, and went to the woman's house, and killed her. She didn't mean to do it. It was an accident, or so he says. So he's been trying to cover up for her. He raced her out of the country, put her on the ship, promised to be her alibi. But she fell into despair. She kept saying she couldn't bear to come back and face a trial. She couldn't cope with what it would do to her daughters. She was terrified of going to prison. So she took her own life.'

‘Outrageous.' I was so stunned I could barely speak.

‘What's outrageous?' asked Dad, growing agitated beside me.

‘I knew you'd say that,' said Aaron. ‘So, do you still have no comment?'

‘I still have no comment,' I said.

‘Well, that's up to you,' said Aaron. I could imagine him shrugging. ‘But just so you know, if you don't comment, all we get is David's side of the story. Because that's being leaked to everyone: how Loren was furious with him for having an affair …'

Okay, that wasn't right.

‘That is just bullshit,' I snapped. ‘There cannot be a person on earth who believes that my sister would murder somebody. There's one person responsible for what's gone on here, and that person is David Wynne-Estes.'

‘Murder?' said Dad.

‘And I can quote you on that?' said Aaron.

‘Yes you can,' I said, pulling up the handle on my suitcase. ‘In fact, why don't you also quote me on this. I've heard David's version of events, and I've never heard such horseshit in my life.'

With that, I dumped my case onto Dad's trolley.

‘What is going on!?' he said.

I did my best to fill him in, watching as his face contorted with the horror.

‘This is just too much,' he said. ‘This is just getting way out of hand.'

* * *

The press pack outside David and Loren's house the following morning had blown out to around a hundred people. I got pushed and shoved as I tried to make my way up to the gates. I was about to ring the buzzer on the stone column, but thought,
Why the hell should I? Loren gave me the code for a reason.

I stepped quietly up to the front door and used my key to gain access. I could smell bacon frying – and I could hear children chattering away about the day ahead.

Hannah and Peyton were home.

I took a few, quiet steps down the parquetry hallway. From where I was standing, I could see into the kitchen, but I was pretty sure that David, his sister, Janet, and the girls could not see me.

I don't know what I expected – a group of people with eyes red-rimmed from crying; the girls collapsed in grief against David's shoulder – but what I actually saw was more shocking still.

Hannah and Peyton were sitting up on the pony-skin kitchen stools, with their backs to me. It was still quite early but they weren't in pyjamas. They were dressed for school.

Grey shirts under tunics. Polished shoes. Socks to the knee.

Loren had been missing less than seventy-two hours, and David was sending his girls to school?

‘You've got to be kidding,' I muttered to myself. He wasn't kidding.

I stayed out of sight, watching as David put the girls' schoolbags up on the counter and looked inside. Janet tidied Peyton's ponytail but stopped when she saw David struggling to get a lunchbox out of one of the schoolbags, and said: ‘Here, let me.'

They were not whispering. I could hear every word perfectly.

‘Are you okay?' Janet said, tugging the lunchbox free.

‘Sure,' said David.

Janet rubbed her nose against her brother's cheek. ‘And did you do it?'

Startled, David took a step back. ‘Did I do what?'

‘Call that police officer,' said Janet.

‘Oh,' said David, visibly relieved. ‘Right. No. But I will.'

Janet turned – and saw me. ‘Molly,' she said.

David turned so quickly he upset a cereal box on the counter.

‘Aunty Molly!' cried Peyton. She clambered off the stool so fast that it came crashing down after her. ‘Did you hear? Mommy didn't come home!'

Hannah shouted over her: ‘Mom's not here, Aunty Molly!'

What was that all about? Why didn't they sound upset?

Hannah said: ‘We're worried, Aunty Molly.' But she didn't seem worried. What exactly had they been told?

David stepped forward. He did not seem happy to see me. ‘Did you knock?' he said. ‘Did you press the buzzer?'

‘I have the code,' I said, as the girls gathered around my legs.

‘Well hello, Aunty Molly,' said Janet coldly.

‘Yes, hello,' said David, forcing a fake cheerfulness into his voice. ‘We weren't expecting you.'

‘So I see,' I said.

Peyton had her arms around my legs, and her face against my knees. ‘Aunty Janet says Mommy was having such a good time in Mexico she decided to stay longer,' she said, ‘but we miss her!'

I turned my head sharply. ‘Is that right?'

‘Okay now,' David said, stepping forward to peel the girls off my legs. ‘That's enough. You girls are already late, and Aunty Janet has promised to take you to school.'

Peyton shook her head. ‘I want to wait for Mom!' she said. ‘I miss Mom.' She buried her head deeper into my knees.

I patted her hair. ‘I miss her, too, baby girl.'

David was aghast. Whatever his plan was, this – my arrival on the scene – was clearly not part of it.

‘Well, we can't worry about this now,' said Janet briskly. ‘We have school.'

‘How can they possibly go to school?' I said.

‘School is fun,' said Janet sternly. ‘School is distracting. Now, girls, do you have any other lunchboxes? Because these here seem to have been stuffed into your bags way too long.'

Hannah let go of my legs and went dutifully to the pantry, where she pointed to two identical pink lunchboxes stacked on the second shelf.

‘Good girl, and what does Mommy – or Nanny – normally put in here?' said Janet, taking the two boxes down. ‘A piece of fruit? A sandwich? A box of raisins? Something healthy, I'm sure.'

Janet had opened the fridge to begin choosing snacks and drinks. Neither of the girls answered. She turned to look at them.

Peyton had let go of my legs. Her small hands were over her face. She was crying.

‘Oh, now you have to stop that,' said Janet.

‘I want to stay home and wait for Mom,' said Peyton. Her face was contorted with concern.

‘No, no. No. You can't do that,' said David, stepping forward to take Peyton's hands in his own. ‘You need to go to school.'

‘She'll be missing us,' cried Hannah.

‘Of course she will,' said David, gathering her into his embrace. ‘But we can't do anything about that now. And Aunty Janet has come all the way over here to take you to school. So, come on, help me pack your bags and we can go.'

Hannah opened her mouth, as if to protest. Without saying another word, David showed her the palm of his hand. I had seen that hand signal before and clearly, so had she. Hannah stopped dead.