‘Impossible to tell,’ I reply. Then, ‘What do you think happened?’
There’s a slight hesitation before she speaks.
‘The police have left a lot unsaid,’ Kay sighs. ‘And I pride myself on fighting for the people that others have forgotten about. In this case, I tend to agree with you: Rick’s story just doesn’t add up. His statement was so cold, his lack of caring… You know they only searched his place once? Just once.’
Her words play in my ears like nostalgic music, but the melody is melancholic and I don’t know if I want to keep listening. I am so used, too used, to being the only one who cares about Tabby that now there’s someone else, someone with the resources to make a difference, it makes me double-take. Do I really want to dive back into this? Tabby’s case has dominated every decision I’ve made for the better part of five years, do I really want to do it for another five? Could I cope if another attempt to find her ends in failure?
‘If you’re interested,’ Kay says, ‘I’d love you to work with me. I always find these things go easier if the people who truly knew the victim are close to the investigation… they tend to see the connections I miss.’ She pauses, picking up on my reluctance. ‘You could really make all the difference, Annabella.’
I keep quiet, weighing it up as she continues to talk.
‘If there was a way of getting into his home,’ Kay pressed, ‘we’d find something. I know we would. Killers, or kidnappers, always leave mementos, little trophies reminding them of what they’ve done and of how clever they’ve been. Mark my words, if he did it, there’ll be something in that house. We just need to figure out a way of getting in there. What do you say?’ she finishes up. ‘Are you in? Do you want to help?’
And with that, I know I have to agree. Not for me, but for my friend whom I’ve spent too long letting down. At least I have a life. Giving up five years of it is the least Tabby deserves.
‘I’m in.’
‘Brilliant,’ Kay says. ‘Pleasure to have you on board.’
At that moment, the line drops, and I realise Kay’s hung up on me, as though our conversation has come to its natural conclusion and she doesn’t have enough time to finish it with a run of pleasantries. I put Kay’s quirk to the back of my mind and replay our conversation. Though part of me is sceptical about starting again, I want to believe that this is it, that this is my chance to redeem myself, to honour Tabitha’s memory and bring Rick Priestley to justice.
Tabby
Five Years Ago
‘I’m sorry,’ I say through a yawn, pulling up a seat at Annabella’s clutter-free desk. It’s gone eight and I’ve been at work for twelve hours now, bleary from my lack of sleep the night before, exhausted by the new responsibilities Caroline’s assigned to me as Bella’s lackey. It’s not Bella’s fault, of course, and I do want to take advantage of this opportunity, to learn from her. It was never my intention to be a receptionist forever.
‘So,’ she begins, clicking away at the white mouse under her grip. ‘These are the latest rounds of before-and-after photos. I take them at each patient’s initial consultation and again after treatment, then put them up on the website.’
She clicks through the process, showing me how it’s done. It all seems straightforward enough.
I nod, agreeing. ‘No problem.’
Bella smiles and gets up from her seat, a cloud of sharp citrus and cotton-fresh washing-powder in her wake. She picks up the camera she uses for these pictures, about to give me a tutorial in point-and-click no less, and clocks me looking up at the time.
‘What does Rick make of your longer hours?’ she asks.
I roll my eyes. ‘He hasn’t noticed, to be honest. That man is so wrapped up in himself that I honestly think it would take him a week to realise if I died in my sleep.’
Bella laughs, her water-blue eyes shining. We’re closer than ever at the moment, which is why I feel terrible when my phone shudders on the desk and my first instinct is to hide it from her. It’s him. Bella switches off the lights, then hands me the camera.
‘For the sake of continuity—’ Bella is nothing if not a perfectionist ‘—you want to stand five steps back from the patient, and to make sure their face fits perfectly into the guidelines on the screen.’ She positions herself in front of the white surgery door, ready to be my model. ‘And check that the flash is on.’
I set up the shot.
‘Say cheese!’ I joke, made funnier when Bella’s expression remains completely unchanged. The flash shoots up from the camera, the click loud in my ear, freezing Bella on the tiny screen in my hands.
‘Well, you don’t look exactly… ecstatic about your upcoming procedure,’ I observe, laughing, passing her the shot, reaching behind her to switch the lights back on.
Bella shrieks from behind me, covering her mouth with her hand, howling with disbelief. ‘Take another one, right now, and delete that.’
I can barely hear her through my own laughter, stronger now that Bella’s so horrified by the image. I look again at the picture and deduce it’s something about the ferocity of her straight-face, the slight flare of her usually slender nostrils, the blur of her right eyelid, the camera capturing the very beginning of a blink, that’s floored us both and I can barely keep the camera straight to take another shot.
‘Tabby!’ she pleads, and I gather myself together, taking a series of natural pictures that capture a more realistic image of my friend. Her high cheekbones and piercing eyes shine through, her naturally thick lashes and glossy ombre hair.
‘Much better,’ I say as I click through the pictures I’ve just taken, depressing the right-arrow button with the cracked tip of my fingernail, trying not to be envious.
I chastise myself even as the thought floats into my head; our relationship isn’t like that, I should know better.
I pass her the camera and she hums a sound of approval. ‘I was worried for a moment, but you’re a quick learner,’ she quips, glancing up from the camera. ‘Just as well.’
‘I’ll finish up here,’ I tell her. ‘You should go home.’
She looks up at me. ‘Are you sure?’ she asks.
‘Of course,’ I insist, and watch her pack her things, observing her methodical approach to leaving the office. Everything in its place, everything tidied and put away. I expect my mere presence in her room is giving her a bit of anxiety, but she doesn’t let on. She’s been better recently, especially since we started doing CBT together. I don’t need it, but I knew Bella wouldn’t go alone.
I start uploading the rest of the patient pictures and guess the process will take me an hour or so, if I’m quick. Bella stands to hug me goodbye, wraps a slender arm round my shoulder, then pauses at the door before she disappears for the night. ‘Bye, then, and thank you, you really are a better assistant than anyone Caroline would have found… despite what she may think.’
For a moment, I feel a pang of loneliness. I don’t like being stuck here without Bella, but then my phone buzzes again, his name lighting up the screen, and I can’t wait for her to disappear.