The Secret Place

Chapter 29

The night had turned denser, ripening with little scurries and eddies of scent, things we couldn’t trace. The moonlight was coming down thick enough to drench us.

I said, ‘You got that, what she gave us. Yeah?’

Conway was moving fast back along the path, mind already leaping up that slope to Rebecca. ‘Yeah. Selena and Rebecca go to their room for their instruments. Either Rebecca’s pissed off enough with Selena that she hides Chris’s phone to frame her, or she gives it to Selena – here you go, your dead fella’s phone, just what you’ve always wanted – and Selena stashes it to deal with some other time.’

We were keeping our voices down; girls could be hidden like hunters behind any tree. I said, ‘That, and Holly’s out. Rebecca was working on her own.’

‘Nah. Holly could’ve stashed Chris’s phone when she took Selena’s.’

I said, ‘Why, but? Say she had Chris’s phone, or access to it: why not dump it in the lost-and-found bin along with Selena’s, if she was trying to take suspicion off her lot? Or if she was trying to frame Selena, why not leave both phones behind her bed? There’s no reason why she’d want to do different things with the two phones. Holly’s out.’ A couple of hours too late. We had Mackey for an enemy now, not an ally.

Conway thought that through for two fast steps, gave it the nod. ‘Rebecca. All on her ownio.’

I thought of that triple creature, still and watching. All on her ownio seemed like the wrong words.

Conway said, ‘We still don’t have enough on her. It’s all circumstantial, and the prosecutors don’t like that. Specially when it’s a kid. Extra-specially when it’s a little rich kid.’

‘It’s circumstantial, but there’s a load of it. Rebecca had plenty of reasons to be pissed off with Chris. She was able to get out at night. She was seen with the weapon the day before the murder. She’s one of the only two people who could’ve put Chris’s phone where it was found–’

‘If you believe a dozen stories from half a dozen other teenage girls who’ve all lied their little arses off to us. A decent defence barrister’ll have reasonable doubt all over it inside five minutes. Plenty of girls had better reasons to be pissed off with Chris. Seven others could get out at night, and that’s just the ones we know about; how do we prove no one else had found out where Joanne kept her key? Chris’s phone: Rebecca or Selena could’ve found it wherever the killer dumped it, stashed it behind the bed while they worked out what to do with it.’

‘So what was Rebecca doing messing about with the murder weapon?’

‘Gemma made that up. Or Rebecca was there to buy drugs. Or she actually was into gardening. Pick your favourite.’ Conway’s stride was lengthening. By now I knew that was frustration. ‘Or she was scouting for Julia, or Selena, or Holly. We know they’re out, but we’ve got nothing solid to prove it. Which means we’ve got nothing solid that proves Rebecca.’

I said, ‘We need a confession.’

‘Yeah, that’d be great. You go pick us up one of those. Get next week’s Lotto numbers, while you’re at it.’

I ignored that. ‘Here’s what I’ve spotted about Rebecca: she’s not scared. And she should be. Her situation, anyone but an idiot would be petrified, and she’s no idiot. But she’s still not scared of us.’

‘So?’

‘So she must think she’s safe.’

Conway shoved a branch out of her face. ‘She fucking is, unless we come up with something amazing.’

I said, ‘Tell you the one time I’ve seen her scared. In the common room, when everyone was losing the head about the ghost. We were so busy with Alison, we paid no attention to Rebecca, but she was terrified. We don’t scare her; doesn’t matter what we throw at her, evidence, witnesses, it won’t shake her. Chris’s ghost does.’

‘So what? You wanna dress up in a sheet and wave your arms at her from behind a tree? Because I swear to God, I’m almost that desperate.’

I said, ‘I just want to talk to her about the ghost. Just talk to her. See where it goes.’

It had hit me while I was on the grass with Joanne’s lot: every girl in that common room had thought Chris was there specially for her. Rebecca had known it.

That made Conway glance my way. She said, ‘Thin ice.’

If the ghost got something out of Rebecca, we were in for a fight, down the line. The defence would scream coercion, intimidation, scream about no appropriate adult present, try to get whatever she said ruled inadmissible. We would argue exigent circumstances: we needed to get Rebecca out of there, that night. Might work, might not.

If we didn’t get something now, we were getting nothing, ever.

I said, ‘I’ll be careful.’

‘OK,’ Conway said. ‘Go for it. Fuck knows I’ve got nothing better.’

I knew the raw-scraped sound in her voice by now. Knew better than to try and soothe it. ‘Thanks,’ I said.

‘Yeah.’

Around the bend in the path, in under the trees – it felt like a drop into nothing, that step into the streaked black – and I smelled smoke. Could’ve been schoolgirl boldness, but I knew.

Mackey, leaning against a tree, all shoulder-slope and crossed ankles. ‘Nice night for it,’ he said.

We braked like kids caught snogging. I went red. Felt him see it through the dark, amused.

‘Good to see you two crazy kids sorted out your problems. I wondered if you might. Been having fun?’

Behind his shoulder, the hyacinth bed. The flowers glowed blue-white like they were lit from inside. Behind that, up the slope, Selena and Rebecca had their heads bent close. Mackey was guarding them.

Conway said, ‘We’d like you to go inside and stay with your daughter. We’ll be with you as soon as we can.’

Cigarette caught between his knuckles, looked like the ember was blooming deep inside his black fist. He said, ‘It’s been a long day. And these girls, in fairness to them, they’re only kids. They’re shattered, stressed out, all the rest. Not trying to teach you two your job – God forbid – but I’m just saying: I wouldn’t put too much stock in anything you get out of them at this point. A jury wouldn’t.’

I said, ‘We don’t suspect Holly of the murder.’

‘No? That’s nice to know.’

Smoke curling through the stripes of moonlight. He didn’t believe me.

‘We’ve got new information,’ Conway said. ‘It points away from Holly.’

‘Well done. And in the morning, you can go galloping off wherever that information takes you. Now it’s time to go home. Stop in the pub on the way, get yourselves a nice pint to celebrate the beginning of a beautiful friendship.’

Behind him, a shadow slipped out of the trees, fitted itself into place beside Selena. Julia.

Conway said, ‘We’re not done here yet.’

‘Yes, Detective. You are.’

Gentle voice, but the glint of his eyes. Mackey meant it. ‘I’ve been picking up some information of my own. Three lovely girls saw me wandering around looking for you two, and they called me over.’ That dark hand with the burning core, lifting to point at me. ‘Detective Moran. You’ve been a bad boy.’

Conway said, ‘If anyone’s got a problem with Detective Moran, they need to take it to his superintendent. Not to you.’

‘Ah, but they’ve come to me now. I think I can convince them that Detective Moran didn’t actually try to seduce their irresistible selves, and that one of them – blond, skinny, no eyebrows? – didn’t actually feel her virtue was in imminent danger. But you’re going to need to get out of my way and let me do it in peace. Is that clear?’

I said, ‘I can look after myself. Thanks all the same.’

‘I wish I agreed with you, kid. I really do.’

‘If I’m wrong, it’s not your problem. And who we talk to isn’t your call.’

The words felt strange and strong, rising out of me, strong as trees. Conway’s shoulder was against mine, level and solid.

Lift of Mackey’s eyebrow, in a stripe of light. ‘Oo, get you. Did you grow those yourself, or did you borrow them off your new pal?’

‘Mr Mackey,’ Conway said. ‘Let me explain to you what’s going to happen now. Detective Moran’s going to talk to these three girls. I’m going to observe, with my mouth shut. If you think you can manage the same, feel free. If you can’t, then fuck off and leave us to it.’

The eyebrow stayed up. To me: ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’

About Conway, about what Joanne could do, about what he would do. He was right, on every one of them. And – what a guy – he was giving me one last chance, for old times’ sake, to play nice.

‘I won’t,’ I said. ‘Word of honour, man: I’d never claim that.’

Quick sniff of laughter from Conway. Then the two of us turned our backs on Mackey and moved through the miasma of hyacinths, up the slope towards the glade.

Under the cypresses Conway stopped. I heard Mackey’s long leisurely stride catch up with her, felt her stretch out an arm: far enough.

He stopped because he’d been going to anyway. If anything led even an inch towards Holly, Conway wouldn’t be able to hold him back.

I stepped out into the clearing and stood in front of those three girls.

The moon stripped my face bare to them. It turned them black-invisible, blazed their outline like a great white rune written on the air. Joanne and her lot were danger, bad danger. They were nothing compared to this.

I cleared my throat. They didn’t move.

I said, ‘Do yous not have to head indoors for lights-out, no?’

My voice came out weak, a limp thread. One of them said, ‘We’ll go in a minute.’

‘Right. Grand. I just wanted to say…’ Foot to foot, rustling in the long grass. ‘Thanks for all your help. It’s been great. Really made a difference.’

A voice asked, ‘Where’s Holly?’

‘She’s inside.’

‘Why?’

I twisted. ‘She’s a bit shaken up. I mean, she’s grand, but that thing back in the common room, with the… you know. Chris’s ghost.’

Julia’s voice said, ‘There wasn’t any ghost. That was just people looking for attention.’

A shift, under the curves of that rune sign. Selena’s voice said softly, ‘I saw him.’

Another movement, quicker and cut off. Julia had elbowed Selena, kicked her, something.

I asked, ‘Rebecca? How about you?’

After a moment, from inside the dark: ‘I saw him.’

‘Yeah? What was he doing?’

Another ripple through that rune, changed the meaning in subtle ways I couldn’t read.

‘He was talking. Fast, like jabbering; like, he never stopped to breathe. I guess he doesn’t need to.’

‘What was he saying?’

‘I couldn’t tell. I was trying to read his lips, but he was going too fast. One time he…’ Rebecca’s voice split on a shiver. ‘He laughed.’

‘Could you tell who he was talking to?’

Silence. Then – so soft, I would’ve missed it, only my ears were wide open as an animal’s – ‘To me.’

A tiny catch of breath, almost a gasp, from somewhere else in that condensation of darkness.

I asked, ‘Why you?’

‘I told you. I couldn’t hear.’

‘This morning you said you and Chris weren’t close.’

‘We weren’t.’

‘So it’s not like he misses you so much, he had to come back and tell you that.’

Nothing.

‘Rebecca.’

‘Probably not. I guess. I don’t know.’

‘Not like he was secretly in love with you, no?’

‘No!’

I said, ‘You know how you looked, in there? Scared. Like, really scared.’

‘I saw a ghost. You’d be scared too.’

The raw flick of defiance: she didn’t sound like a mystery now, not like a danger. Sounded like a kid, just a teenage kid. The power was seeping out of her; fear was seeping in.

Julia said, ‘Don’t talk to him any more.’

I said, ‘Did you think he was going to hurt you?’

‘How would I know?’

‘Becs. Shut up.’

No way to tell if Julia was just wary, or if she was starting to understand. ‘But,’ I said, fast, ‘but Rebecca, I thought you liked Chris. You told us he was sound. Was that a lie? He was actually a dickhead?’

‘No. He wasn’t. He was kind.’

That flare of defiance again, hotter. This mattered to her.

I shrugged. ‘Everything we’ve learned, he sounds like a dickhead. He used girls for whatever he could get, dumped them as soon as he wasn’t getting it. A real prize.’

‘No. Colm’s is full of those – they don’t care what they wreck, they’ll do anything to anyone as long as they get what they want. I know the difference. Chris wasn’t like that.’

The white outline moved. Things rising up underneath it, bubbling.

Rebecca felt them. She said, ‘I know the stuff he did. Obviously I know he wasn’t perfect. But he wasn’t like the rest of them.’

A raw choke that could have been a laugh, out of Julia.

‘Lenie. He wasn’t. Was he?’

Selena moved. She said, ‘He was a lot of things.’

‘Lenie.’

They had forgotten me. Selena said, ‘He wanted not to be like them. He tried really hard. I don’t know how much it worked.’

‘It did.’ Rebecca’s voice was spiralling towards panic. ‘It worked.’

That ugly twist of sound again, from Julia.

‘It did. It did.’

Something crunched behind me, a branch whipped. Something was happening. I couldn’t tell what, couldn’t afford to turn. Had to trust Conway and keep going.

I said, ‘So how come you were scared of his ghost? Why would it want to hurt you, if Chris never would’ve?’

Julia said, ‘Specially since it’s not fucking real. Becca? Hello? They made you imagine it like some Omen thing. If you decide to imagine it as a purple turtle instead, then that’s what you’ll see. Hello?’

‘Hello yourself, I saw him–’

‘Rebecca. Why would it want to hurt you?’

‘Because ghosts are angry. You guys said that, remember? This afternoon.’ But the panic was taking up more and more of Rebecca’s voice. ‘And anyway, he didn’t hurt me.’

I said, ‘This time he didn’t. What about next time?’

‘Who says there’ll be a next time?’

‘I do. Chris had something to say to you, something he wants from you, and he didn’t get through. He’ll be back. Again and again, till he gets what he wants.’

‘He won’t. It was because you were here, you got him all–’

‘Selena,’ I said. ‘You know he was there. You want to tell us whether you think he’ll be back?’

In the slow fall of silence, I heard something. Murmur of voices, away down at the bottom of the slope. A man. A girl.

Closer, in the cypresses behind me: a sound like the muted first breath of a roar. Conway, moving among the braches to cover the voices. ‘Selena,’ I said. ‘Is Chris going to be back?’

Selena said, ‘He’s there the whole time. Even when I don’t see him, I can feel him. I hear him, like this humming noise right inside the backs of my ears, like when the telly’s on mute. All the time.’

I believed her. Believed every word. I said, heard the hoarse note in my voice, ‘What does he want?’

‘At first I was sure he was looking for me. Oh God I tried so hard but I could never make him see me, he never heard me, I was begging him Chris I’m here I’m right here but he just looked right past me and kept doing whatever he was doing, I tried to hold him but he just dissolved before I could–’

A high keening sound from Rebecca.

‘I thought it was because we weren’t allowed, like punishment, always looking for each other but we’d never be allowed to– But it’s because it isn’t me he wants. All that time–’

Julia said, ‘Shut up.’

‘All that time, he was never looking for–’

‘Jesus Christ, can you shut up?’

Something like a sob, from Selena. Then nothing. The low roar among the cypresses wavered through the air and was gone, rock in a cold pool. The voices at the bottom of the slope sank with it.

Rebecca said, in the empty space, ‘Lenie. What’s he want?’

Julia said, ‘Can we please fucking please talk about it later?’

‘Why? I’m not scared of him.’ Me.

‘Then duh, start paying attention. He’s the only thing we need to be scared of. There isn’t anything else. This ghost bullshit–’

‘Lenie. What do you think he wants? Chris?’

‘OhmyGod, he doesn’t fucking exist, what do I have to do–’

Kids fighting, they sounded like. That was all. Not like Joanne’s lot, cheap sneer-and-peck by numbers, every word and thought worn threadbare before it ever reached them, not that; but not the enchanted girls, soaring among tumbling arpeggios of gold, that I had come hoping for just that morning. What I had seen before, that triple power, that had been the last flicker of something lost a long time ago. Light from a dead star.

‘Lenie. Lenie. Is it me he’s after?’

Selena said, ‘I wanted it to be me so much.’

The rune shimmered and crumpled. One fragment snapped off that solid dark mass, found a shape of its own: Rebecca. Sliver-thin, kneeling on the grass.

She said, to me: ‘I didn’t think it was going to be Chris.’

I said, ‘The ghost?’

Rebecca shook her head. She said, simply, ‘No, when I texted him to meet me here. I didn’t know who it was going to be. I’d’ve bet anything it wouldn’t be Chris.’

‘Oh, Becs,’ Julia said. She sounded folded over a gut-punch. ‘Oh, Becs.’

In the cypress shadow behind me, Conway said, ‘You are not obliged to say anything unless you wish to do so, but anything you do say will be taken down in writing and may be used in evidence. Do you understand?’

Rebecca nodded. She looked frozen to the bones, too cold even to shiver.

I said, ‘So when you got here that night, you were expecting to meet one of the dickheads.’

‘Yeah. Andrew Moore, maybe.’

‘When you saw Chris, you didn’t have second thoughts, no?’

Rebecca said, ‘You don’t understand. It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t trying to figure it out, “Oh am I right am I wrong what should I do?” I knew.’

There it was: why she hadn’t been frightened of Conway and Costello, why she hadn’t been frightened of us. All the long way from that night until this evening – and this evening something had changed – she had known she was safe, because she had known she was right.

I said, ‘Even when you saw it was Chris? You were still positive?’

‘Specially then. That’s when I got it. Up until then, I had it backwards. All those stupid slimebags, James Gillen and Marcus Wiley, it could never have been them. They’re nothing; they’re totally worthless. You can’t have a sacrifice that’s worthless. It has to be something good.’

Even in that light I saw the flicker of Julia’s eyelids, hooding. The sad, sad smile on Selena.

‘Like Chris,’ I said.

‘Yeah. He wasn’t worthless – I don’t care what you guys say’ – into the dark of Julia and Selena – ‘he wasn’t. He was something special. So when I saw him, that was when I actually properly understood: I was getting it right.’

Those voices again, down the bottom of the slope. Building.

I said, fast and a notch louder, ‘It didn’t bother you? Some slimebag who deserved it, that’s one thing. But a guy you liked, a good guy? That didn’t upset you?’

Rebecca said, ‘Yeah. If I’d had the choice, I’d’ve picked someone else. But I would’ve been wrong.’

Setting up for an insanity defence, I’d have thought, if she’d been older or savvier. If we’d been indoors, I’d’ve thought there was no setup about it, just plain insanity. But here, in the glowing spin and slipslide of her world, in the air thick with scents and stars: for a second I almost saw what she meant. Caught the edge of understanding, swung by my fingertips, before I lost hold and it soared up and away again.

Rebecca said, ‘That’s why I left him the flowers.’

‘Flowers,’ I said. Nice and neutral. Like the air hadn’t leaped into a hum around me.

‘Those.’ Her arm rose, thin as a dark brushstroke. Pointed at the hyacinths. ‘I picked some of those. Four; one for each of us. I put them on his chest. Not to say sorry, or anything; it wasn’t like that. Just to say goodbye. To say we knew he wasn’t worthless.’

Only the killer had known about those flowers. I felt, more than heard, a long sigh come out of Conway and spread across the clearing.

‘Rebecca,’ I said gently. ‘You know we have to arrest you. Right?’

Rebecca stared, huge-eyed. She said, ‘I don’t know how.’

‘That’s OK. We’ll walk you through everything. We’ll find someone to look after you till your parents can get here.’

‘I didn’t think this would happen.’

‘I know. Right now, all you need to do is come over here and we’ll go indoors.’

‘I can’t.’

Selena said, ‘Give us a minute first. Just a minute.’

I heard Conway breathe in for the No. I said, ‘We can do that. But it’ll only be a minute.’

‘Becs,’ Selena said, so softly. ‘Come here.’

Rebecca turned towards her voice, hands reaching, and her head bent back into that dark shape. Their arms folded around each other’s shoulders like wings, drawing tighter, like they were trying to meld themselves into one thing that could never be prised apart. I couldn’t tell which one of them sobbed.

Footsteps behind me, running, and this time I could turn. Holly, hair spraying out of its ponytail, leaping up the slope in great desperate bounds.

Behind her, and making himself take his time, was Mackey. He had seen her coming, gone down to the path to keep her there as long as he could. He had left me and Conway up here, to do whatever we were going to do. In the end, for his own reasons, he had decided I was worth trusting.

Holly came past Conway like she was nothing, hit the edge of the clearing, and saw the other three. She pulled up like she’d smacked into a stone wall. Said, voice cracking wild, ‘What’s happened?’

Conway kept her mouth shut. This was mine.

I said quietly, ‘Rebecca’s confessed to killing Chris Harper.’

Holly’s head moved, a blind flinch. ‘Anyone can confess to anything. She said it because she was scared you were going to arrest me.’

I said, ‘You already knew it was her.’

Holly didn’t deny it. She didn’t ask what would happen to Rebecca next; didn’t need to. She didn’t throw herself on the others, didn’t rush into Daddy’s arms – he managed not to go to her. She just stood there, watching her mates motionless on the grass, with one hand braced against a tree like it was holding her up.

‘If you’d known this morning,’ I said, ‘you’d never have brought me that card. Who did you think it was?’

Holly said, and she sounded way too tired and hollow for sixteen, ‘I always thought it was Joanne. Probably not actually her – I thought she made someone else do it, maybe Orla; she makes Orla do all her dirty work. But I thought it was her idea. Because Chris had dumped her.’

‘And then you figured Alison or Gemma found out, couldn’t take the pressure, put up the card.’

‘I guess. Yeah. Whatever. Gemma wouldn’t, but yeah, it’s exactly the kind of hello-are-you-actually-that-thick thing Alison would do.’

Conway asked, ‘Why didn’t you just say all this to Detective Moran, straight up? Why make us dick around jumping through hoops all day?’

Holly looked at Conway like just the thought of all that stupid made her want to sleep for a year. She let her back slump against the tree-trunk and closed her eyes.

I said, ‘You didn’t want to be a rat.’

Rustle behind her, sharp and then gone, as Mackey moved.

‘Again,’ Holly said. Her eyes stayed closed. ‘I didn’t want to be a rat again.’

‘If you’d told me everything you knew, you would’ve probably ended up testifying in court, and the rest of the school would’ve found out you’d squelt. But you still wanted the killer caught. That card was the perfect chance. You didn’t have to tell me anything; just point me in the right direction, and keep your fingers crossed.’

Holly said, ‘You weren’t stupid, last time. And you didn’t act like anyone under twenty had to be stupid. I thought if I could just get you in here…’

Conway said, ‘And you were right.’

‘Yeah,’ Holly said. The lines of her face, turned up to the sky, would have broken your heart. I couldn’t look at Mackey. ‘Go me.’

I asked, ‘How did you figure out it wasn’t Joanne after all? When we came to take you to the art room, you knew. What happened?’

Holly’s chest lifted and fell. ‘When that light bulb blew up,’ she said. ‘I knew then.’

‘Yeah? How?’

She didn’t answer. She was done.

‘Chickadee,’ Mackey said. His voice was a kind of gentle I’d never thought could come out of him. ‘It’s been a long, long day. Time to go home.’

Holly’s eyes opened. She said to him, like no one else existed, ‘You thought it was me. You thought I killed Chris.’

Mackey’s face closed over. He said, ‘We’ll talk about it in the car.’

‘What did I ever do to make you think I would kill someone? Like ever, in my whole life?’

‘The car, chickadee. Now.’

Holly said, ‘You just figured if anyone annoyed me I’d bash them over the head, because I’m your daughter and it’s in our blood. I’m not just your daughter. I’m an actual person. Of my own.’

‘I know that.’

‘And you kept me down there so they could make Becca confess. Because you knew if I got up here, I’d shut her up. You made me leave her here till she…’ Her throat closed.

Mackey said, ‘I’m asking you, as a favour to me: let’s go home. Please.’

Holly said, ‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’ She straightened, joint by joint, moved out from under the cypresses. Mackey took a fast breath to call after her, then bit it down. Conway and I both had better sense than to look at him.

In the centre of the clearing, Holly dropped to her knees in the grass. For a second I thought the others were going to tighten their backs against her. Then they opened like a puzzle, arms unfurling, reached out to draw her in and closed around her.

A nightbird ghosted across the top of the glade, calling high, trailing a dark spiderweb of shadow over our heads. Somewhere a bell grated for lights-out; none of the girls moved. We left them there as long as we could.

We waited in McKenna’s office for the social worker to come take Rebecca away. For a different crime, we could have released her into McKenna’s custody, let her have one last night at Kilda’s. Not for this. She would spend the night, at least, in a child detention school. Whispers crowding around the new girl, eyes probing for clues to where she fit in and what they could do with her: deep down, under the rough sheets and the raw smell of disinfectant, it wouldn’t be too different from what she was used to.

McKenna and Rebecca faced each other across the desk, Conway and I stood around in empty space. None of us talked. Conway and I couldn’t, in case something came across like questioning; McKenna and Rebecca didn’t, being careful or because they had nothing to say to us. Rebecca sat with her hands folded like a nun, gazing out of the window, thinking so hard she sometimes stopped breathing. Once she shivered, all over.

McKenna didn’t know what face to wear, for any of us, so she looked down at her hands clasped on the desk. She had layered up her makeup but she still looked ten years older than that morning. The office looked older too, or a different kind of old. The sunlight had given it a slow voluptuous glow, packed every scrape with a beckoning secret and turned every dust-mote into a whispering memory. In the stingy light off the overhead bulb, the place just looked worn out.

The social worker – not the one from that morning; a different one, fat in floppy tiers like she was made of stacked pancakes – didn’t ask questions. You could tell from the fast sneaky glances that her job gave her more piss-sprayed blocks of flats than places like this, but she just said, ‘Well! Time we were getting some sleep. Off we go,’ and held the door open for Rebecca.

‘Don’t call me we,’ Rebecca said. She got up and headed for the door, not a glance at the social worker, who was clicking her tongue and tucking in her chins.

At the door she turned. ‘It’s going to be all over the news,’ she said, to Conway. ‘Isn’t it?’

‘I haven’t heard you caution her,’ the social worker said, pointing a waggy finger at Conway. ‘You can’t use anything she says.’ To Rebecca: ‘We need to be very quiet right now. Like two little mice.’

‘The media won’t use your name,’ Conway said. ‘You’re a minor.’

Rebecca smiled like we were the kiddies. ‘The internet isn’t going to care how old I am,’ she pointed out. ‘Joanne isn’t going to care, the exact second she gets online.’

McKenna said to all of us, one notch too loud, ‘Every student and staff member in this school will be under the strictest instructions not to make any of today’s events public knowledge. On or off the internet.’

We all left a second for that to fall into. When it was gone Rebecca said, ‘If anyone goes looking for my name, like in a hundred years, they’re going to find mine and Chris’s. Together.’

That shiver again, hard as a spasm.

Conway said, ‘It’ll be headlines for a few days now, a few days later on.’ She didn’t say during the trial. ‘Then it’ll go off the radar. Online, it’ll drop even quicker. One celebrity caught shagging the wrong person, and this is yesterday’s news.’

That curled the corner of Rebecca’s mouth. ‘That doesn’t matter. I don’t care what people think.’

Conway said, ‘Then what?’

‘Rebecca,’ McKenna said. ‘You can speak to the detectives tomorrow. When your parents have arranged for appropriate legal counsel.’

Rebecca, thin in the slanted space of the door-frame, where one sideways turn would vanish her into the immeasurable dark of the corridor. She said, ‘I thought I was getting him off us. Getting him off Lenie, so she wouldn’t be stuck to him forever. And instead I am. When I saw him, there in the common room–’

‘I’ve told her,’ the social worker said, through a tight little mouth. ‘You all heard me tell her.’

Rebecca said, ‘So that has to mean I did the wrong thing. I don’t know how, because I was sure, I was so–’

‘I can’t force her to be quiet,’ the social worker told whoever. ‘I can’t gag her. That’s not my job.’

‘But either I got it wrong, or else I got it right and that doesn’t make a difference: I’m supposed to be punished anyway.’ The paleness of her face blurred its edges, bled her like watercolour. ‘Could it work like that? Do you think?’

Conway lifted her hands. ‘Way above my pay grade.’

If crouds of dangers should appeare, yet friendship can be unconcern’d. That afternoon I had read it the same way Becca had. Somewhere along the way, it had changed.

I said, ‘Yeah, it could.’

Rebecca’s face turned towards me. She looked like I had lit something in her: a deep, slow-burning relief. ‘You think?’

‘Yeah. That poem you have on your wall, that doesn’t mean nothing bad can ever happen if you’ve got proper friends. It just means you can take whatever goes wrong, as long as you’ve got them. They matter more.’

Rebecca thought about that, didn’t even feel the social worker tugging at the leash. Nodded. She said, ‘I didn’t think of that last year. I guess I was just a little kid.’

I asked, ‘Would you do it again, if you knew?’

Rebecca laughed at me. Real laugh, so clear it made you shiver; a laugh that dissolved the exhausted walls, sent your mind unrolling into the vast sweet night. She wasn’t blurry any more; she was the solidest thing in the room. ‘Course,’ she said. ‘Silly, course I would.’

‘Right,’ said the social worker. ‘That’s enough. We’re saying good night now.’ She grabbed Rebecca by the bicep – nasty little pinch off those stubby fingers, but Rebecca didn’t flinch – and shoved her out of the door. Their steps faded: the social worker’s pissed-off clatter, Rebecca’s runners almost too light to hear, gone.

Conway said, ‘We’re going to head as well. We’ll be back tomorrow.’

McKenna turned her head to look at us like her neck hurt. She said, ‘I’m sure you will.’

‘If her parents get back to you, you’ve got our numbers. If Holly and Julia and Selena need anything else from their room, you’ve got the key. If anyone has anything to tell us, whatever time of night, you make sure they get the chance.’

McKenna said, ‘You have made yourselves abundantly clear. I think you can safely leave now.’

Conway was already moving. I was slower. McKenna had turned so ordinary; just one of my ma’s mates, worn down by a drunk husband or a kid in trouble, trying to find her way through the night.

I said, ‘You told us earlier: this school’s survived a lot.’

‘Indeed,’ McKenna said. She had one last punch left in her: that fisheye came up and hit me square on, showed me exactly how she smashed snotty teenagers into cringing kids. ‘And while I appreciate your belated concern, Detective, I am fairly sure that it can survive even such an impressive threat as yourselves.’

‘Put you in your place,’ Conway said, a safe distance down the corridor. ‘And serve you right for arse-licking.’ The dark took her face, her voice. I couldn’t tell how much she was joking.

Us, leaving St Kilda’s. The banister-rail arching warm under my hand. The entrance hall, slants of white spilling through the fanlight onto the chequered tiles. Our footsteps, the clear bell-jingle of Conway’s car keys hanging off her finger, the faint slow toll of a great clock striking midnight somewhere, all spiralling up through still air to the invisible ceiling. For one last second, the place we’d come to that morning materialised out of the dark for me: beautiful; whorled and spired of mother-of-pearl and mist; unreachable.

The walk to the car lasted forever. The night was wide open, full to dripping with itself, it smelled of hungry tropical flowers and animal scat and running water. The grounds had gone rogue: every flash of moonlight off a leaf looked like bared white teeth, the tree over the car looked dense with shadow-things hanging ready to drop. Every sound had me leaping around, but there was never anything to see. The place was only mocking or warning, showing me who was boss.

By the time I slammed myself inside the car I was sweating. I thought Conway hadn’t noticed, till she said, ‘I’m only fucking delighted to get out of here.’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Same.’

We should’ve been high-fiving, high-stepping, high as kites. I didn’t know how to find that. All I could find was the look on Holly’s face and Julia’s, watching the last shadow of something craved and lost; the distant blue of Selena’s eyes, watching things I couldn’t see; Rebecca’s laugh, too clear to be human. The car was cold.

Conway turned the key, reversed out fast and hard. Pebbles flew up as she hit the drive. She said, ‘I’ll be starting the interview at nine. In Murder. I’d rather have you for backup than one of those dickheads off the squad.’

Roche and the rest of them, putting an extra spike in their jabs now that Conway had got her big solve after all. Ought to be back-slaps and free pints, fair play to you and welcome to the club. It wouldn’t be. If I wanted to be part of the Murder guy-love someday, my best bet was to leg it back to Cold Cases as fast as my tiny toesies would carry me.

I said, ‘I’ll be there.’

‘You’ve earned it. I guess.’

‘Thanks a bunch.’

‘You managed a whole day without fucking up big-time. What do you want, a medal?’

‘I said thanks. What do you want, flowers?’

The gates were closed. The night watchman had missed the long sweep of our headlights all the way down the drive; when Conway beeped, he did a double-take up from his laptop. ‘Useless bollix,’ Conway and I said, in unison.

The gates opened on one long slow creak. The second there was an inch to spare on either side, Conway floored it, nearly took off the MG’s wing mirror. And Kilda’s was gone.

Conway felt in her jacket pocket, tossed something on my lap. The photo of the card. Chris smiling, golden leaves. I know who killed him.

She said, ‘Who’s your money on?’

Even in the dimness, every line of him was packed electric enough with life that he could’ve leapt off the paper. I tilted the photo to the dashboard light, tried to read his face. Tried to see if that smile blazed with the reflection of the girl he was looking at; if it said love, brand-new and brand-fiery. It kept its secrets.

I said, ‘Selena.’

‘Yeah. Same here.’

‘She knew it was Rebecca, from when Rebecca brought her Chris’s phone. She managed to keep it to herself for a year, but in the end it was wrecking her head so badly she couldn’t take it any more, had to get it out.’

Conway nodded. ‘But she wasn’t about to squeal on her mate. The Secret Place was perfect: get it out of your system, blow off the pressure, without telling anyone anything that mattered. And Selena’s flaky enough, she never realised it’d bring us in. She thought it’d be a day’s worth of gossip, then gone.’

Street lights came and went, flickered Chris in and out of existence. I said, ‘Maybe now she’ll stop seeing him.’

I wanted to hear Conway say it. He’s gone. We dissolved him right out of her mind. Left them both free.

‘Nah,’ Conway said. Hand over hand on the wheel, strong and smooth, arcing us round a corner. ‘The state of her? She’s stuck with him for good.’

The gardens we’d passed that morning were empty, deep under a thick fall of silence. We were metres from a main road, but among all that careful graceful leafiness we were the only thing moving. The MG’s smooth engine sounded rude as a raspberry.

‘Costello,’ Conway said, and left it, like she was deciding whether to keep talking. The people with the five-foot concrete mug-handle had it floodlit; make sure we could all appreciate it twenty-four-seven, or make sure no one nicked it to go with his eight-foot concrete mug.

Conway said, ‘They haven’t replaced him yet.’

‘Yeah. I know.’

‘O’Kelly was talking about July; something about after the mid-year budget. Unless this goes tits-up, I should still be in the good books then. If you were thinking of applying, I could put in a word.’

That meant partners. You want him, Conway, you work with him… Me and Conway.

I saw it all, clear as day. The slaggings from the butch boys, the sniggers rising when I found the gimp mask on my desk. The paperwork and the witnesses that took just that bit too long to reach us; the squad pints we only heard about the next morning. Me trying to make nice, making an eejit of myself instead. Conway not trying at all.

It means you can take whatever goes wrong, I had said to Rebecca. As long as you’ve got your friends.

I said, ‘That’d be deadly. Thanks.’

In the faint glow of the car lights I saw the corner of Conway’s mouth go up, just a fraction: that same ready-for-anything curl it had had when she was on the phone to Sophie, way back in the squad room. She said, ‘Should be good for a laugh, anyway.’

‘You’ve got a funny idea of a laugh.’

‘Be glad I do. Or you’d be stuck in Cold Cases for the duration, praying for some other teenage kid to bring you another ticket out.’

‘I’m not complaining,’ I said. Felt a matching curl take the corner of my mouth.

‘Better not,’ Conway said, and she spun the MG onto the main road and hit the pedal. Someone smacked his horn, she smacked hers back and gave him the finger, and the city fireworked alive all around us: flashing with neon signs and flaring with red and gold lights, buzzing with motorbikes and pumping with stereos, streaming warm wind through the open windows. The road unrolled in front of us, it sent its deep pulse up into the hearts of our bones, it flowed on long and strong enough to last us for ever.