In the Deep - Loreth Anne White Page 0,112

If you want to hold me, if you want to ask any more questions, you’re going to have to arrest me and go through my lawyers. I’ve been as cooperative as I can, and I’m in a very bad place with the mess Martin has left me. I need to go home to Canada and to meet with my legal team there.”

Lozza sucked in a deep, long breath of air, assessing her. “Fine.”

“Fine what?”

“Fine. Go.”

Ellie hesitated, then got up and went to the door. She reached for the handle, paused, turned back to face Lozza and Gregg. She wavered, then said, “There was a car following us. I noticed it soon after I arrived in Jarrawarra.”

Lozza and Gregg exchanged a glance. “What kind of car?” Lozza asked.

“A brown Toyota Corolla,” Ellie said. “It has a dent in the back and a Queensland plate. I remember the last three letters of the plate because they spell GIN, like the drink.”

Lozza’s heart sped up. “You certain it was a Queensland rego?”

“Yes. I even pointed the car out to Martin. He looked really worried when he saw it.”

“Did he know who was in the car?”

“No. He suggested it was a common model and color, and said it was probably different cars I was seeing. But I could tell he was worried about it.” She then stepped out the door and left.

On impulse Lozza followed her out into the street.

“Ellie?” she called out.

The woman turned. Sunlight caught the shine in her dark waist-length hair.

Lozza went up to her and handed Ellie her card. Quietly she said, “If any more memory returns, please call me. Nothing is too small or too insignificant.”

Ellie eyed her. The memory of their time in the waves shimmered between them. Seemingly unsure, Ellie glanced again at the card.

“I can see you’re scared, Ellie. I know Martin hurt you. I understand the confusion and shame around substance abuse.”

Ellie’s big blue eyes watered, and Lozza felt she was going to say something. But she stopped. This woman was either very, very alone or very smart and dangerous. Lozza wanted to give her an opening to reach out. In whatever way. Good-cop/bad-cop–style—and right now she was playing good cop.

“If you do see that Corolla again, let me know. Okay?”

Ellie nodded, turned, and walked down the road.

Lozza watched until Ellie disappeared around the corner at the end of the street.

She turned to go back into the station but stalled. She looked up. Corneil stood in the window. Watching.

THEN

ELLIE

I entered our house followed by Willow, who’d brought me home from the travel agency where I’d purchased another ticket home. I’d called Willow from there. After being grilled by the police and still feeling so weak, I’d suddenly felt so alone, scared. I needed her company. My flight left in two days. I had to cope until then. The cops had told me I could return to my house—it was not a crime scene. They’d photographed everything, and they’d taken Martin’s computers and the files and papers from his cabinet. His office was a mess, drawers still open, things scattered all over the floor.

I stopped and stared, my heart beating fast.

The lock on his office door had been broken. I felt bile rise up the back of my throat. At least I’d made copies of everything. I walked slowly, dazedly, into the living room and sat down.

“Can I get you something to drink, eat?” asked Willow as she set her purse on the kitchen counter near where Martin had raped me. Concern creased her brow.

“Water, thanks.”

She brought me a glass. I sipped with a shaky hand, odd and indistinct, disjointed memories slicing through my brain.

“I can stay awhile,” Willow said. “I can stay overnight—stay until you leave, if you like?”

I stilled as I saw the blank space on the wall.

“The clock.”

“What?”

“They took the clock.” I set my glass down and came to my feet, my heart racing. I made for the sliding glass door.

“Ellie? Where are you going?”

I yanked open the door and marched over the lawn toward my studio. Willow hurried after me.

I entered the studio and stilled.

The clock was gone from here, too. I spun to face her.

“Why would the police take the wall clocks?”

“I . . . I have no idea.”

“There was a clock there.” I pointed. “It was exactly the same design as the clock in the living room. Both gone.”

Willow stared at me like I was going mad.

My mouth turned dry. I scanned the rest of the room, and froze. They’d

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