stupid, but what choice do I have? Fuck. My foot is jangling up and down with nerves. I force myself to stay calm.
‘Do you have the phone on you?’ Reza asks.
‘Huh?’ I startle. The phone burns like a glowing coal in my pocket. ‘No,’ I tell Reza with as straight a face as I can muster. ‘It’s at the apartment.’
Can she tell I’m lying? I don’t think I’m a very convincing liar – not like Rob and Kate, the bastards. It’s hard to lie well, I discover as I struggle to hold Reza’s gaze and my face starts to heat up like I’ve got a fever.
‘We’ll send someone with you to pick it up.’
‘OK,’ I murmur, wondering when I’ll find a moment to delete all the messages and if that will even matter as won’t they be able to get her phone records?
‘You need to also surrender your passport.’ It’s Nunes telling me, complete with a smug smile.
‘Why? Am I a suspect?’ I ask, alarmed.
‘We need to make sure you stay here in Portugal until the inquiry is concluded,’ is all Nunes will offer by way of reply.
My stomach drops away. That’s not really an answer and only goes to confirm that they really think I might have done this – killed my best friend. ‘How long is that going to take?’ I manage to ask.
Reza shrugs. ‘As long as it takes.’
‘But I have a baby,’ I argue. ‘I can’t stay here. I need to get home.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Reza says, implacable as a stone wall. She stands, pushing back her chair. ‘My colleague will take you back home.’
Home, I think to myself. It’s not home. Home is England. Home is Marlow. And I just want to get back there to her.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The whole ride back to the apartment I have to force the hysteria and panic down, strangle it before it strangles me. How is this happening? How am I under suspicion? I think of all the lies I’ve told – about the drugs, about the phone, about Konstandin – I’m hardly a model witness. Maybe it’s not too late to admit about the phone – but no, I can’t. Not now. If they find out about the affair it will only seal the deal in their eyes that I’m guilty. But they’re going to find out. I know they will, eventually.
How can I prove it wasn’t me who killed her? Nunes doesn’t seem to be interested in finding out the real story or looking for the real killer. And I don’t think Reza is on the fence about it either, despite her more inscrutable face. They both think it’s me so why bother looking elsewhere? But I’m not going down for this. I refuse to.
What if they arrest me though? What if I get sent to jail? What about Marlow? Oh my God … Marlow. I start to shake so hard my teeth chatter. What if I go to jail? I don’t even know how things work over here in a foreign country. My breathing becomes shallow and ragged, my lungs not able to draw in enough oxygen. My head is full of pins and needles.
Stop it, I silently shout at myself. Focus, goddamn it! Getting hysterical isn’t going to help. If you’re going to get out of this you need to figure it out for yourself. Make a list. Take control. Don’t let your anxiety overwhelm you. Not now. Deep breath. And another.
What really happened to Kate? That’s what I need to find out. And fast.
My hand itches to reach into the bag and wipe Kate’s phone before I have to hand it over. I don’t know how I’ll stall the policeman at the apartment long enough. I need to do it now; it’s my only chance. Then, as soon as I’m alone, I need to call Rob and have it out with him. No, I think to myself. Scratch that. I need to call Toby first and find out from him what he knows before I confront Rob. I need to arm myself with whatever facts I can dig up.
I glance at Nunes. I made sure to sit diagonally away from him when I got in the back, to make it harder for him to spy on me in the rear-view mirror. Now, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, I pull out Kate’s phone. He won’t know whose phone it is, I tell myself. I just need to be bold and act like it’s mine.
The screen