FRY

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I’m no stranger to police interviews by now, so I’m not particularly alarmed when we are taken into separate interview rooms at the police station. The long walk down the mountain has given us plenty of time to concoct our story. We’ve decided we’re going to tell the truth – just not the whole truth. We’ve agreed not to mention the part about keeping Alicia hostage.

You’d be forgiven for thinking that I’d be nervous, after all, I just got out of jail and I’ve suddenly got a dead body on my hands. A dead body and a burning cottage. But now that we’re here, I feel a strange confidence that I’d never have thought I’d possess in such a situation. I’m almost casual as I sit in my plastic chair, sipping my watery cup of coffee. Calm enough to ask for more sugar. Calm enough to request a sandwich.

“There are a couple of inconsistencies we’d like to clear up,” the DCI says, after he’s finished listening to my account.

“Yes?”

Like the fact that we kept Alicia hostage for two days before she died?

I resist the urge to clench my fists. It’s imperative that I remain calm, show no outward sign of nerves. Prison has made it easier for me to lie, easier to live with untruth. Being surrounded by thieves and liars all day certainly taught me a thing or two in that department. Even if the DCI suspects what we did, he’ll never be able to prove it. Deacon and I are safe, home free. Just as long as he stays as strong as me.

Oh god, what if he’s confessed?

The DCI purses his lips. He looks perplexed, as if he’s trying to work out a complex mathematical equation.

Come on, out with it!

“Isabel, we’re having trouble locating Alicia’s body.”

My heart skips a beat.

“What? Alicia… the body is right in front of Tumbledown Cottage! You couldn’t miss it. Unless it was cremated by the fire?”

The DCI scratches his chin. “No, the fire had virtually fizzled out by the time we got there – in fact, most of the cottage is still standing. But there was no sign of a body. We’ve got police scouring the mountain, but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of it.”

I grip the table, trying to stop the world from spinning off its axis.

“I have to ask you again, are you absolutely sure she was dead?”

“Absolutely! I mean, Deacon’s a doctor. He ought to know!”

“So where is the body?”

I think fast.

“Jody must have gone back for it!”

It’s the only explanation I can think of.

“Why she would do that?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know! To hide the evidence? Or maybe she just needed a bit longer to say goodbye? It all happened so quickly, maybe she wasn’t in her right mind?”

“Hmm….” He doesn’t seem altogether satisfied.

“Excuse me, I have to take this,” he says as his phone starts to pulse.

I nod and he steps out of the room, leaving me to stare into space. Even in death, Alicia is taunting me.

What the hell is going on? Are they lying about the body to make me confess?

The DCI returns, looking extremely sombre. I’m no longer feeling casual. I need to know what’s happening, and I need to know now.

“What? What is it?”

“They found blood, lots of it, daubed on the walls of the cottage.”

“What?”

“It spelt out a word, FRY, all in capitals. Does that mean anything to you?”

“Yes, yes it does, but I don’t understand how it got there!”

I think my brain might be splintering in two.

It has to be Jody. But why would she write on the walls in her dead sister’s blood? I don’t know how, or why, she’s done all this but I have to believe she was overcome with guilt and grief. Because if I consider of any of the alternatives, I may never sleep again.