The Weekend Away - Sarah Alderson Page 0,122

need to convict him. He may even be forced to change his plea to guilty. It means that Nunes will be in prison for so long that I don’t need to worry about him getting out after a few years and trying to find me.

I read the rest of the text. Konstandin says that they only found the footage today; apparently it took a while to locate because there was confusion over who owned the camera and which security company managed it. It hasn’t yet been released to the public, he adds.

My hand shakes as I press play on the video. I don’t know if I want to watch. But I force myself to, if only so the mystery can finally be resolved and the remaining gaps in the story be filled in.

For several seconds after I hit play, I wonder if the video is still loading as it’s all fuzzy. But as I peer closer, I start to see shapes forming in the gloom. I was expecting something HD and sharp, something that would give me incontrovertible evidence, but this looks like someone has recorded the static off their TV.

But then what appear to be two shadowy figures show up on screen. It’s black and white and hard to make them out and they’re far from the camera, probably at a distance of fifty-odd feet, but if you peer closely enough it’s possible to see them through the gloom. I recognise Kate funnily enough from the way she’s standing, so full of attitude. I’ve seen her strike that pose a hundred times before, one hand on her hip, chin jutting up.

Nunes has his back mostly to camera. I shudder at the sight, my throat throbbing, the bruise coming to life, as I watch him move towards Kate. She’s gesticulating wildly but the movements are jerky and indistinct. It’s like watching people through a blizzard. And then it happens, so fast I blink and almost miss it. He lashes out, grabbing her arm. She tries to fight him off, and he punches her in the face. Kate stumbles backwards and falls, smashing her head into what looks like a concrete bollard.

I stare in horror. Kate’s still moving. She lifts her hand. Nunes bends down and crouches in front of her. It looks like he’s going to help her up. He even seems to press his hand to her head, like he’s giving her a benediction.

My eyes remain glued to the screen, my nose almost pressed to it as I struggle to both make out what is happening and also to watch and bear witness to the awfulness of Kate’s last moments. She looks like she’s trying to crawl away from him and I can almost feel her terror rising off the screen, gripping me. I want to reach in and do something, stop him from hurting her any further. I want to hit pause on the video as though that will change the outcome, but instead I just watch in utter, useless, paralysed horror.

After a few seconds Nunes stands up but he doesn’t walk away. He seems to be considering what to do. And then he decides. He crouches down again and starts heaving Kate towards the dock, his hands beneath her shoulders, dragging her across the ground before finally rolling her into the water. Once he’s done it, thrown her in like a bag of trash, he stands there on the edge of the dockside, just watching. Was he waiting to see if she would sink or swim? Was he watching her drown? Did she try to pull herself out? Did she rise above the surface? Did she fight to stay alive?

After another minute of standing there, appearing like some dark phantom on the video, he turns and vanishes into the pixelated wilderness, and there’s nothing but blank fuzziness filling the screen, as though someone has pressed a pause button on the world.

I stare at my phone too stunned to move or even to breathe. At least now I know what happened. At least I will no longer have to stop my imagination from furnishing the details. Now I’ll just have to live with this much worse reality instead. I sit there for a long while, trying to banish the images, trying to avoid thinking about those last few moments of Kate’s life. I hate her for what she did to me but I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. Finally, Marlow’s sleepy mumbles stir me into checking the time.

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