‘But … but they haven’t even found a body,’ I said, desperately. ‘We don’t even know for sure if Danny’s dead.’
‘They don’t need one,’ she said. ‘There’ve been loads of convictions in cases where the body’s never been found.’
‘Oh great. Well, thanks for that, Eva. That’s made me feel loads better.’
I slumped backwards in my chair, feeling utterly defeated.
‘Oh shit, sorry, darling.’
Eva leaned across the low table, her long hair trailing in the pizza, and patted my knee.
‘I’m sorry, OK?? But we have to get real here, and I’m just so bloody worried about you, especially after today. It was like yet another nail in the coffin. I mean, look at just some of the stuff they have on you – or think they have on you, so far …’
She sat back again, frowning as she peeled a stringy piece of cheese off a strand of hair, then wiped her fingers on her jeans.
‘And I’m just talking about what they think they have on you in relation to Danny now, leaving the other murders aside. They’ve found a load of blood in your old apartment. Danny’s blood. They only have your word that he ever moved to Bristol – not a single neighbour or anyone else around here ever laid eyes on him. Since the end of January he hasn’t contacted anyone he knows, he hasn’t used his bank account, he didn’t start his new job. You have no emails from him or pictures of him dated beyond the end of January either. And now there’s photographic evidence and a witness who says you were physically violent towards him. Hell, Gemma, if I didn’t know you and I was faced with that little lot, I’d be pointing the finger at you too.’
A hard knot had formed in my stomach as she’d been speaking, my nails digging into my palms.
‘You’re not though, are you?’ My voice was a mere squeak. ‘Pointing the finger? Please Eva … I hate to ask you this again, but you’re not having doubts, are you? You do believe me? Please, please say you do, because I honestly don’t think I could bear it …’
She leapt from her seat then and knelt at my feet, wrapping her arms around my knees.
‘Of course I believe you, you numpty. Stop asking me that. But this is serious now, Gemma. We need to do something, to get you out of this. I just don’t know what, and it’s killing me.’
We’d gone to bed shortly after that, and somehow I’d finally fallen asleep, Danny’s face rippling through my dreams, until the beep of my damn phone had woken me. As we sat in the quiet of the kitchen, sipping our hot chocolates, my mind clearing, the fight returning, a sudden impulse struck. I reached into my dressing gown pocket and pulled out my phone.
‘I’m going to call him,’ I announced.
‘What? Who? It’s not even 5 a.m.!” she said.
‘Quinn. That sneaky, possibly murdering, little bastard, Quinn.’
My anger was growing, and I stood up, my bare feet thudding on the tiled floor as I stomped around the kitchen, clicking onto my contacts file and scrolling through it.
‘I’m going to call him, and I’m going to ask him what the FUCK he’s playing at. That’s two texts he’s sent now. It is him, I know it is. Does he really think he can get away with threatening me like that, the evil little shit? I’m going to tell him we’re on to him, and that we’re going to the police first thing to tell them everything. See what he makes of that.’
‘Gemma, I really don’t think …’
I ignored her, stabbing at the phone, finding his number. I hit the call button, and then returned to the table and put the phone on speaker.
It began to ring, and I braced myself, waiting for him to pick up. He didn’t.
Hi, this is Quinn. Leave a message.
‘Shit,’ I said, and hit the redial button. The phone rang again, and again went to voicemail. I tried twice more, and the same thing happened.
‘He’s not going to pick up, Gemma,’ said Eva, rather unnecessarily I felt.
‘Filthy little coward,’ I replied. I stared at my phone for another moment then cut off the call, the screen returning to the phone’s home page, the date and time flashing. I swallowed, remembering.
‘Eva, it’s the seventeenth of March. St Patrick’s Day. Mine and Danny’s first wedding anniversary.’
She nodded and reached across the table to take my hand.