What You Left Behind (35 page)

If she was perfectly honest, Lana didn’t think she’d made a mistake at all. She hadn’t slept at all last night. Her mind kept going over and over what it meant, trying to find a rational explanation. There wasn’t one.

His mum. Her dad. They’d been together. And someone had taken pictures.

T
HE EXAM HAD
been a long one. Chemistry. Lana knew she had to do better than average. She had to get an A grade minimum—for her mother, for herself, for the rest of her life. Several times she’d glanced furtively at Freddie in the next row. Every time he’d been writing frantically, head bowed, arm curled round his paper.

At the end of the session she’d put down her pen, her papers sitting squarely in front of her. She reckoned she’d done what she had to do.

“I
DON
’
T BELIEVE
it,” Freddie had said later that day, head in hands. They were back in Radcote, revising in Lana’s garden near the lake so that Freddie could smoke. The grass made her legs itch. At that moment she’d wished she smoked, wished she were a rebellious teenager who got pissed, went to clubs, took Ecstasy, and didn’t come home until five in the morning.

“I’m going to sort it out, make it all OK,” he’d added, stubbing out his cigarette and lighting another. “I’m not going to let this happen.”

“But it already has,” Lana had said, wishing she could erase the pictures from her mind.

“Look, my mum, she doesn’t know what she’s doing. Sometimes she …”

Freddie had bowed his head.

“And my dad’s been messed up since Simon.” Lana hadn’t wanted to make excuses for him, but it was the only explanation. “What will you do?”

Later, she wished she hadn’t asked.

Freddie had flicked through the pages of his English notes and stuck a finger in a certain place.

“We’re best off leaving them to it,” Lana had continued. Her family didn’t need any more trouble, especially not from her.

“No,” Freddie had said, snapping his English book closed. He’d stood up, looming over her in his crumpled school clothes, his stubby tie. “First I want to see what you saw, make certain that you’re right. Then we work out what to do.”

“D
AD
,
PLEASE DON
’
T
drink any more,” Lana said as her father returned to the kitchen to pour a third glass of whiskey.

Sonia opened the back door. “What’s wrong with Gil?” she said, coming inside and pulling off her boots.

Lana thought she looked ill, pale, washed out. She didn’t know how she’d had the strength to muck out the stables.

“How the hell do I know?” Tony snapped.

“I just found him wandering around the courtyard mumbling stuff to himself. He was in a state. I asked him to come over here, but he wouldn’t. I settled him inside his house with some tea.”

“What was he saying?” Lana asked.

“It was hard to tell. He was so upset. Stuff about—”

“Shut up, woman, for Christ’s sake!”

Lana stared at her father, horrified, as he slammed down his glass. His face was red.

“Dad—”

“And you be quiet too. I need to think.”

He paced about the kitchen, his fists balled up at his sides.

“Tony, Lana was only trying to help. Don’t be so rude.”

It was the first time Lana had ever seen her mother stand up to her dad. Lana held her breath.

“We need to help Gil, not argue. He’s very upset about something. You should have seen him. He was going on about it being his fault that Freddie was missing, that he didn’t keep him safe—”

Lana screamed as her dad lunged forward and his hand lashed out at her mum. For a second, everything fell silent. Sonia held her face, her mouth fell open.

“Dad,
stop
it!” Lana yelled.

He looked at her as if he hadn’t realized she was still there, before striding out the back door, slamming it shut. She heard his footsteps on the gravel, then silence. She went up to her mum and hugged her.

“Mum, I don’t know what to do,” she said, pulling her phone from her pocket with shaking hands. “I think someone’s got Freddie.”

32

“Where were you the night Dean died, Abby?” Lorraine asked.

After breakfast, she and Adam had gone straight to New Hope. Lorraine had been tempted to sit on the bunk beside Abby, but had pulled the one opposite closer instead. She was leaning forward, elbows on knees, trying to cajole some sense from the girl.

Adam had refused to sit and towered above Abby, who was huddled under the folds of her unzipped sleeping bag. By the look of her, she was hoping the camp bed would collapse and swallow her up.

“We can discuss it at the police station if you prefer. Perhaps you’ll remember more there.”

There was only silence from Abby.

“It’s important, love,” Lorraine said, frowning up at Adam.

“I can’t remember,” she replied. “Probably here. Or my mate’s place. My mum kicked me out a few months ago.”

“There’s a logbook for the shelter we can check,” Adam said. “What’s your friend’s name?”

“I really miss him,” Abby said, ignoring the question. She touched the ring that hung on a cheap chain around her neck. “I loved him.”

Lorraine reached out to Abby’s arm, and gave it a little stroke. “It must still be terribly hard for you. I’m so sorry. But we need the name of the person you were with that night.” She wanted Abby to realize that they were on her side.

Abby shrugged. “Gem Mason. She lives on the Westlands estate. Forty-three Coundon Drive. OK?” She scowled at Lorraine.

“Yes, thanks, love,” Lorraine said. “It’s just that sometimes, when people die, it can turn out they didn’t always want to.”

“But they said he left a note. He killed himself, didn’t he?” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I thought he loved me back.”

“That’s what we’re trying to find out, and we’re hoping you can help us. If Dean’s death wasn’t suicide, we need to work out exactly what happened.”

Abby was shaking her head. The gothic skull ring trembled at her neck. “I didn’t have nothing to do with it.”

“What if someone had already told us that they were on the motorbike with Dean when he died?” Adam said. “That it was an accident, not a suicide.”

Abby gave a little jump of shock. “Like who?”

“A girl about your age, actually.”

“Then it’s a lie!” She sounded distressed. “Dean wouldn’t have taken no other girl apart from me on the bike.” She pulled up her sleeping bag and drew it around her shoulders, leaving only her head and skinny legs exposed. The black gladiator sandals she wore were too big around her bony ankles.

“Let’s just suppose for a moment he did. Do you have any idea who it could have been?” Lorraine asked.

Abby shrugged.

“And you really can’t remember where you got Dean’s ring from?”

Abby twisted away from them. She clearly wanted them to leave so she could burrow back into her pit of misery, even though she wasn’t supposed to be in the shelter at this time. The volunteer on duty, Derek, hadn’t insisted Abby leave with the others. It was hard not to feel sorry for her.

Suddenly, Abby sat up straight. “That girl who works here, there’s this boy she hangs out with, yeah?”

“Go on,” Lorraine said, interested suddenly.

“He gave me the ring. He told me Dean would have wanted me to have it.”

“What does the boy look like?” Adam asked.

“You know, just a boy. Skinny, shaggy blond hair. He’s the one gave Lenny money to steal the laptop. Everyone here knows that.”

Lorraine took her purse from her bag and pulled out a photograph. “Is this him?” she said, showing her a picture of Freddie.

“Yeah, that’s him,” Abby said confidently.

Lorraine and Adam looked at each other.

“And the girl he hangs out with, what’s her name?”

“Lana,” Abby said. “Lana Hawkeswell.”

There was a flash of pleasure on her skinny face before she burrowed back down under the bag. It was clear the chat was over.

“N
OW WHAT
?” L
ORRAINE
said, buckling up her seat belt and starting the car.

Adam opened a bottle of water and drank half of it in one gulp. He shook his head. Neither of them wanted to believe the implications. “Freddie gets Lenny to steal a computer. Let’s assume it’s not because he just wanted a computer, rather he wanted
that
computer.”

“But we know Sonia was borrowing Tony’s laptop that day because hers was being repaired. So which one was he after?”

“If Lana was involved in the theft, she would have known which computer was which and told Freddie.”

“And Freddie’s bike was found where Lenny died, and his top too,” Lorraine said with a sigh as they headed up the hill toward Radcote and home. “Greg should get the lab results on the blood back anytime now.”