Wicked Little Deeds, page 24
‘He was going to be an actor. He wanted … He wanted …’
Ms Sutter takes a deep breath, but seems to change her mind. She nods to herself, and says a terse, ‘I think that’s enough, thank you,’ before going back to her seat.
Madoc Miller strides up onto the stage next. His jaw is set firmly, and his eyes rake over the crowd. I see now where Dominic learned to glower.
‘I’m Madoc Miller, Freya and Nic’s father. And I’m not here to tell you about my daughter. I think she gave you enough of an inside view of her life while she was here. I’ve come here to say one thing, and one thing only. Whoever murdered my daughter is going to pay. I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens, and I will not rest until it’s done. If that’s you,’ he says, eyes sweeping like a laser over the crowd again, ‘I suggest you turn yourself in to the police.’
There’s an unspoken threat underlying every single word, and it makes a shiver run right through me. His eyes never land on me, though. Madoc must see me here, sitting with Uncle Ty and Carolyn, yet his gaze never pauses on us.
I’m still relieved when he steps down and Principal Gower takes his spot. She clears her throat, then starts to wrap up the memorial. But then there’s movement at the back of the hall, and Mr Hamish hurries forward, head down, a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He walks right over to the stage, and Principal Gower steps aside with a frown.
Why is he here? Why haven’t the cops arrested him? Or at least stopped him from barging into the damn memorial service?
Dominic stands up in the front row. I can’t see his face, but I can just imagine his eyes blazing. His father puts a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to say something, and they both take their seats again.
‘I’d like to say a few words,’ Hamish says, then clears his throat and begins reading from his notes. ‘As guidance counsellor to both Freya and Ford, I saw great promise in them both. Ford with his acting, and Freya … honestly, Freya could have taken any number of amazing paths, and been a success.’
He reads on, listing her academic achievements, talking about Haunted Heartland, her ‘great artistic talent’ – only occasionally even mentioning Ford. It’s the most stomach-turning thing I’ve ever heard, and I can’t believe he’s doing it while Ms Sutter is looking up at him from the front row. Doesn’t he realize how screwed up it is to heap all this praise on Freya, and treat Ford like an afterthought?
Why is he doing this, anyway? It’s almost like he’s trying to prove something …
Hamish doesn’t go on for long, thankfully. When everyone finally files out, I’m glad of the cold air outside. I let it sweep me away from the stifling atmosphere in the hall.
I lie awake in bed, not wanting to go to sleep. I don’t know what nightmares will be waiting for me.
On impulse, I grab my phone and call Dominic.
‘Hey,’ he says, answering on the first ring.
‘I guess you weren’t sleeping, either.’
‘I’m just going through the video footage from our security system the night Ford died. I had a hunch that maybe he came here, to where Freya was found, looking for clues or something, or that maybe this was where he got thrown in the river.’
‘Find anything?’
‘One pretty dramatic shot of an owl swooping at the camera near the bridge, but nothing useful.’
‘An owl … Wait, there’s still a camera near the bridge?’ I thought he’d have taken that down by now.
‘It’s the one we were using to film my death scene for Haunted Heartland, remember?’
He laughs softly. In spite of the spike of fear I still feel when I remember the moment I thought Sadie had just pushed him to his death, I get another kind of chill, too. It feels so strange to be lying in bed with Dominic’s voice in my ear. Weird, but not bad weird.
‘I left it hooked up. There’s a motion detector on it, so it starts to record if someone comes within range.’
‘Why?’
‘I thought I might get some footage of Sadie.’
‘Are you being serious?’ Because that’s the last thing I expect to hear from glowering Dominic Miller. But maybe I’m not the only one who’s seen her … Maybe I’m not losing my mind after all. ‘You actually believe she’s real?’
He’s silent for a moment, and I picture him pursing his lips the way he does when he’s considering his response. ‘I’m open to the possibility.’
‘The possibility of ghosts?’
‘I think it would be extremely arrogant to assume that something isn’t real when so many people claim to have seen it, simply because I haven’t.’
I’m … genuinely speechless. As the silence lengthens, Dominic continues.
‘But maybe ghosts aren’t quite what people think they are, not trapped spirits or anything like that. I see them more as … scars.’
‘Scars?’
‘Hmm … like a mark left on a place by some traumatic event. And maybe they only become visible when that same kind of trauma-energy occurs in the same spot.’
I think about that – about Sadie. How she’s supposedly tied to the waterfall where she died. How she’s meant to appear to Thorns right before they die. There’s something comforting about the idea that she’s just an echo, or a scar as Dominic says. I’d hate to think of her soul being trapped there forever.
‘Could the mark be left on an entire family, do you think?’
‘Maybe,’ he says. ‘A scar handed down from one generation to the next.’
‘Deep,’ I say, allowing a teasing note to creep in, because that’s better than letting him hear the panic his idea strikes in me. If he’s right, it means it isn’t the manor that’s haunted – scarred. It’s my entire family.
‘There’s more to see in this world than what our eyes have already seen, Thorn.’
‘Was that a quote?’
‘Yes. I believe it was first said by Dominic Adrien Miller, a proven genius.’
‘Adrien? You told me you didn’t have a middle name!’ I laugh, and some of my tension begins to unravel. It’s so strange how easy it is to talk to Dominic now, about almost anything.
‘That was before I knew the alternative was being called “Monica”.’
‘Oh my God – your initials are DAM? Like, daaaayum?’
I’m laughing for real now, trying to muffle the sound under my duvet, even though I know my voice won’t carry to Carolyn and Uncle Ty upstairs in the main house.
‘I’m glad you called me,’ Dominic says. ‘I think I needed this after that shitshow at the memorial.’
‘Right? I can’t believe Hamish actually got up and gave a speech. Haven’t the police spoken to him yet?’
‘Oh, they have,’ Dominic says, sighing. ‘Apparently, he did talk to Freya on the phone a couple of times, but not the night you overheard her. That was another number, and they haven’t been able to trace it to anybody. It’s probably a pre-paid phone, like the one Freya had. If the guy’s trying to cover his tracks, that phone’s probably dust by now. Besides, they’d already ruled out Hamish as a murder suspect because he had an alibi for the times both Freya and Ford were killed.’
‘Oh.’ I let all that sink in. ‘So it’s not him then?’
‘Well, I’m not so sure. From what I gather, his alibi for when Freya was killed is that he was in his office at lunchtime, watching a Netflix show. That seems shaky to me. I mean, the fact his laptop was playing a video at that time doesn’t mean he was physically there, watching it. And, when Ford died, Hamish’s girlfriend claims he was with her. But maybe she’s covering for him.’
‘So you still think he did it?’
‘I … maybe. I mean, he’s definitely hiding something. He told the cops the reason Freya called him on his cell was to ask him to tutor her, but my sister didn’t need a tutor. Her grades were even better than mine.’
‘Another proven genius, huh?’ I say, not teasing, but with maybe just a hint of envy.
Dominic’s quiet for a moment. ‘You should probably know that Hamish gave the police a drawing he claims is yours. He made a point of telling my parents about it.’
My stomach sinks right through the stone floor of my room.
‘Shit. I’m really sorry – the drawing wasn’t actually supposed to be Freya. I was just doodling without thinking. I definitely didn’t write those words on it, or pin it to your sister’s locker, I swear –’
‘Thorn, it’s OK.’ But his flat tone tells me it’s not. I’ve fucked up.
‘Dominic, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for the drawing to turn out how it did.’
‘I’m not upset.’ He exhales deeply. ‘I know you use your drawings to … I don’t know, work through things. And I came to terms with the fact you and Freya didn’t like each other a long time ago. I mean, I know you’d have liked each other if you weren’t both so damned quick to judge, but the fact you don’t take any shit is one of the reasons I like you.’
‘You like me?’ I can’t keep the grin out of my voice.
‘Don’t let it go to your head. And can we please focus? There’s still a murderer out there.’
‘So what are we going to do? It doesn’t seem like the cops are getting anywhere, and I have a bad feeling that if no better suspect leaps out in front of them, waving a confession, they’re gonna come back to me.’
I’m hoping Dominic, self-certified genius that he is, will contradict that statement, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, ‘We’d better find out for sure what part Hamish played in all this.’
‘How? Are we going to search his office? Beat a confession out of the guy? I mean, I doubt that’d do us much good, but I’m game if you are.’ I’m only half joking. The urge to throat-punch Hamish still lingers from earlier.
‘Maybe we don’t need to be so criminal about it? We could try to trick him into confessing.’
I think about the greasy way Hamish tried to get me to hire him as a tutor before the holidays. Is that how he talked his way into Freya’s life? And did Ford figure that out?
‘I have an idea,’ I say at last.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The alarm on my phone goes off at 8 p.m. the following night, as if I wasn’t watching the time like an anxious hawk. I turn it off and run through my checklist once again. I have pepper spray (bought this afternoon in a completely legal fashion with my own ID), an old thumb drive, my phone, super-warm clothes I can run in, and my gloves, of course.
I slid a typed note under Hamish’s office door at lunchtime, after checking nobody was around to see. Assuming he read it, he’s either getting ready to come meet me in two hours, or – if he really has nothing to hide – he’s gone to the cops to tell them some weirdo sent him a threatening note.
This is what it said:
I know what you did to Freya Miller. I have the proof from her phone. Meet me at Burden Bridge tonight at 10 p.m. and I’ll tell you how you can get it back. If not, I take it to the cops. Your call.
If this works, he’ll show up, I’ll claim to have removed the videos from her gallery before I gave the burner phone to the cops – including one where she talks about Hamish by name, and how they were planning to meet the day she was killed – and I’ll offer to give him the thumb drive if he’ll get me onto the summer art programme.
I got the idea after thinking over what Carolyn told me about Liam getting caught creeping on young girls because of evidence from his phone. It always comes back to a phone. And Freya was forever recording herself. Why wouldn’t she make a video as security? When I explained the plan to Dominic last night, he was sceptical, to say the least.
‘Why would Freya record a video like that, though? He won’t believe she was that careless.’
‘It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t fully believe it,’ I told him. ‘He just needs a sliver of doubt. It’ll be enough. And it’s not like I’m asking for money or anything it would actually hurt him to trade for it, so I don’t see why he won’t agree.’
At least, that’s what I’m hoping. Of course, if Hamish has murdered two people in cold blood, he might think it’s safer just to get rid of me, too. And that’s what the pepper spray and running clothes are for.
‘Look,’ I said to Dominic when he still wasn’t convinced, ‘if it comes down to it and I have to run, there are a million hiding places I know around the manor where Hamish will never find me in the dark. All the security cameras are working now, and you’ll be inside, watching everything on the screens in your mom’s office. You can call the cops if it starts to look dicey.’
‘Dicey?’ he repeated. ‘I don’t want to put your life at risk, Thorn.’
I laughed. ‘Neither do I, Adrien.’
Dominic sighed, but I could tell he wasn’t going to argue anymore. He wants to see Hamish pay for what he’s done as much as I do – maybe more.
‘I think I preferred it when you called me Monica,’ he said.
‘Really?’
‘No, not really. But you could try calling me Nic, if you wanted to.’
I waited until we were saying goodnight about an hour later before trying it out. It actually felt OK.
I make one last check that I’ve got everything, then head through the kitchen, planning on grabbing some necessary caffeine on my way out. I find Carolyn leaning into the fridge.
‘Aren’t you young folk on some kind of night-time curfew?’ she says, nodding to the dark square of the window.
‘Yep. But I’m not walking anywhere. I’ll take Bessie. And I won’t be long.’
‘Where are you headed?’
I bite my lip, not sure whether to lie. Because I definitely can’t tell her why I’m going to the manor. She’d never let me go. So I choose a half-truth instead.
‘I think I can find out for sure who killed Freya,’ I say. ‘But I need to get something from the manor.’
Carolyn frowns. ‘Get what? Aren’t the Millers there?’
‘They’re in Haverford until late tonight. And this is kinda time-sensitive.’
‘Ava, what is this? You’re freaking me out here.’
Damn it. Carolyn really does look worried. I shouldn’t have said anything.
I paste on a smile and lie harder. ‘Hey, it’s nothing to freak out about. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, OK? And I have my phone with me.’ And pepper spray.
‘Maybe we should check with Ty …’
‘No.’ It comes out louder than I intended. ‘Uncle Ty’s always saying he’s not my boss, and I’m eighteen now. An adult. So let’s just talk about this when I get back, OK?’
Carolyn sighs. ‘How about I come with you then?’
I laugh and shake my head. ‘No. Honestly. This isn’t a big deal.’ I lean in and kiss her cheek. ‘Thank you, though.’
Carolyn shrugs me off, but she’s smiling again. ‘Just be careful, OK? And here.’ She leans back into the fridge and hands me a chilled coffee. ‘One for the road.’
I take out my phone and light up the screen before waving at the camera as I cross Burden Bridge. If it works the way Dominic explained, it should be recording me now. I recite the alphabet as I go, keeping my voice pitched at the same volume I would if I was talking to someone on the far side. If Dominic’s fancy background-noise-cancelling camera mic isn’t good enough to capture Hamish’s confession clearly over the sound of the waterfall, then this is all going to be a waste of time.
The snow has stopped for now, but the clouds hang thick and heavy overhead, so I don’t think it’s done for tonight. My heart races in my chest, and I’m sweating despite the cold.
God, I hope this doesn’t go horribly wrong. I really, really don’t want to die.
I left Bessie out in the lane and came in over the wall. Maybe that’s the way Hamish will go if he’s avoiding the cameras around the property. And, if he actually is the murderer, then he knew enough to do that last time he was here.
My footsteps crunch along the gravel path to the front door of the manor. The house stands completely dark except for one light above the door. Later, when I come back out to wait for Hamish, Dominic will turn out that light, too, to make it seem as though the house is completely empty tonight.
Just as I start to wonder if Dominic’s spy camera is even turned on, I spot someone at the edge of the orchard. I guess he’s walking Pilot.
I bury my hands deeper in my pockets, and try to stomp some warmth into my limbs while I wait for Dominic to join me. But he doesn’t come any closer. In fact, he’s moving kind of oddly. It’s like the shadows around him are shifting, swirling into him, as if he’s drawing in fog.
Wait – is that Dominic?
The figure tilts its head, neck-snap quick, and I fall still.
That’s definitely not Dominic.
It’s Sadie.
As though she heard me thinking her name, her head jerks again in my direction.
Heart thudding, I back away towards the manor.
‘Ava? What are you looking at?’
Dominic stands in the open front doorway, the electric lantern above him shining down a circle of light. I glance back at the orchard, but there’s nothing there now.
My breath comes in shallow gusts that fog the air around us.
‘Do you have a camera aimed at the orchard there?’ I point, showing Dominic where I saw the figure.
‘Yes. I was just watching you on the feed. I didn’t see anyone. Did you?’
‘I … no. Probably not.’
He ushers me into the darkness of the house. ‘Let’s just check the video footage to make sure. We need to know if Hamish is already lurking out there.’
I take one last look over to the orchard. Nothing moves there now, but we both flinch when a barn owl screeches somewhere off in the distance. Dominic turns out the porch light, locks the door, then slides the chain across.
‘And if you stand here –’ Dominic indicates a spot on his laptop screen, next to the orchard side of the bridge – ‘and you stop him when he reaches here, that should be perfect for the camera to pick up.’
Our little test run when I came over the bridge earlier proved that Dominic’s camera set-up works brilliantly. When I pointed this out to him, he gave me an arch look and said, ‘This isn’t my first rodeo.’
Ms Sutter takes a deep breath, but seems to change her mind. She nods to herself, and says a terse, ‘I think that’s enough, thank you,’ before going back to her seat.
Madoc Miller strides up onto the stage next. His jaw is set firmly, and his eyes rake over the crowd. I see now where Dominic learned to glower.
‘I’m Madoc Miller, Freya and Nic’s father. And I’m not here to tell you about my daughter. I think she gave you enough of an inside view of her life while she was here. I’ve come here to say one thing, and one thing only. Whoever murdered my daughter is going to pay. I will do everything in my power to make sure that happens, and I will not rest until it’s done. If that’s you,’ he says, eyes sweeping like a laser over the crowd again, ‘I suggest you turn yourself in to the police.’
There’s an unspoken threat underlying every single word, and it makes a shiver run right through me. His eyes never land on me, though. Madoc must see me here, sitting with Uncle Ty and Carolyn, yet his gaze never pauses on us.
I’m still relieved when he steps down and Principal Gower takes his spot. She clears her throat, then starts to wrap up the memorial. But then there’s movement at the back of the hall, and Mr Hamish hurries forward, head down, a sheaf of papers clutched in his hand. He walks right over to the stage, and Principal Gower steps aside with a frown.
Why is he here? Why haven’t the cops arrested him? Or at least stopped him from barging into the damn memorial service?
Dominic stands up in the front row. I can’t see his face, but I can just imagine his eyes blazing. His father puts a hand on his shoulder, leaning in to say something, and they both take their seats again.
‘I’d like to say a few words,’ Hamish says, then clears his throat and begins reading from his notes. ‘As guidance counsellor to both Freya and Ford, I saw great promise in them both. Ford with his acting, and Freya … honestly, Freya could have taken any number of amazing paths, and been a success.’
He reads on, listing her academic achievements, talking about Haunted Heartland, her ‘great artistic talent’ – only occasionally even mentioning Ford. It’s the most stomach-turning thing I’ve ever heard, and I can’t believe he’s doing it while Ms Sutter is looking up at him from the front row. Doesn’t he realize how screwed up it is to heap all this praise on Freya, and treat Ford like an afterthought?
Why is he doing this, anyway? It’s almost like he’s trying to prove something …
Hamish doesn’t go on for long, thankfully. When everyone finally files out, I’m glad of the cold air outside. I let it sweep me away from the stifling atmosphere in the hall.
I lie awake in bed, not wanting to go to sleep. I don’t know what nightmares will be waiting for me.
On impulse, I grab my phone and call Dominic.
‘Hey,’ he says, answering on the first ring.
‘I guess you weren’t sleeping, either.’
‘I’m just going through the video footage from our security system the night Ford died. I had a hunch that maybe he came here, to where Freya was found, looking for clues or something, or that maybe this was where he got thrown in the river.’
‘Find anything?’
‘One pretty dramatic shot of an owl swooping at the camera near the bridge, but nothing useful.’
‘An owl … Wait, there’s still a camera near the bridge?’ I thought he’d have taken that down by now.
‘It’s the one we were using to film my death scene for Haunted Heartland, remember?’
He laughs softly. In spite of the spike of fear I still feel when I remember the moment I thought Sadie had just pushed him to his death, I get another kind of chill, too. It feels so strange to be lying in bed with Dominic’s voice in my ear. Weird, but not bad weird.
‘I left it hooked up. There’s a motion detector on it, so it starts to record if someone comes within range.’
‘Why?’
‘I thought I might get some footage of Sadie.’
‘Are you being serious?’ Because that’s the last thing I expect to hear from glowering Dominic Miller. But maybe I’m not the only one who’s seen her … Maybe I’m not losing my mind after all. ‘You actually believe she’s real?’
He’s silent for a moment, and I picture him pursing his lips the way he does when he’s considering his response. ‘I’m open to the possibility.’
‘The possibility of ghosts?’
‘I think it would be extremely arrogant to assume that something isn’t real when so many people claim to have seen it, simply because I haven’t.’
I’m … genuinely speechless. As the silence lengthens, Dominic continues.
‘But maybe ghosts aren’t quite what people think they are, not trapped spirits or anything like that. I see them more as … scars.’
‘Scars?’
‘Hmm … like a mark left on a place by some traumatic event. And maybe they only become visible when that same kind of trauma-energy occurs in the same spot.’
I think about that – about Sadie. How she’s supposedly tied to the waterfall where she died. How she’s meant to appear to Thorns right before they die. There’s something comforting about the idea that she’s just an echo, or a scar as Dominic says. I’d hate to think of her soul being trapped there forever.
‘Could the mark be left on an entire family, do you think?’
‘Maybe,’ he says. ‘A scar handed down from one generation to the next.’
‘Deep,’ I say, allowing a teasing note to creep in, because that’s better than letting him hear the panic his idea strikes in me. If he’s right, it means it isn’t the manor that’s haunted – scarred. It’s my entire family.
‘There’s more to see in this world than what our eyes have already seen, Thorn.’
‘Was that a quote?’
‘Yes. I believe it was first said by Dominic Adrien Miller, a proven genius.’
‘Adrien? You told me you didn’t have a middle name!’ I laugh, and some of my tension begins to unravel. It’s so strange how easy it is to talk to Dominic now, about almost anything.
‘That was before I knew the alternative was being called “Monica”.’
‘Oh my God – your initials are DAM? Like, daaaayum?’
I’m laughing for real now, trying to muffle the sound under my duvet, even though I know my voice won’t carry to Carolyn and Uncle Ty upstairs in the main house.
‘I’m glad you called me,’ Dominic says. ‘I think I needed this after that shitshow at the memorial.’
‘Right? I can’t believe Hamish actually got up and gave a speech. Haven’t the police spoken to him yet?’
‘Oh, they have,’ Dominic says, sighing. ‘Apparently, he did talk to Freya on the phone a couple of times, but not the night you overheard her. That was another number, and they haven’t been able to trace it to anybody. It’s probably a pre-paid phone, like the one Freya had. If the guy’s trying to cover his tracks, that phone’s probably dust by now. Besides, they’d already ruled out Hamish as a murder suspect because he had an alibi for the times both Freya and Ford were killed.’
‘Oh.’ I let all that sink in. ‘So it’s not him then?’
‘Well, I’m not so sure. From what I gather, his alibi for when Freya was killed is that he was in his office at lunchtime, watching a Netflix show. That seems shaky to me. I mean, the fact his laptop was playing a video at that time doesn’t mean he was physically there, watching it. And, when Ford died, Hamish’s girlfriend claims he was with her. But maybe she’s covering for him.’
‘So you still think he did it?’
‘I … maybe. I mean, he’s definitely hiding something. He told the cops the reason Freya called him on his cell was to ask him to tutor her, but my sister didn’t need a tutor. Her grades were even better than mine.’
‘Another proven genius, huh?’ I say, not teasing, but with maybe just a hint of envy.
Dominic’s quiet for a moment. ‘You should probably know that Hamish gave the police a drawing he claims is yours. He made a point of telling my parents about it.’
My stomach sinks right through the stone floor of my room.
‘Shit. I’m really sorry – the drawing wasn’t actually supposed to be Freya. I was just doodling without thinking. I definitely didn’t write those words on it, or pin it to your sister’s locker, I swear –’
‘Thorn, it’s OK.’ But his flat tone tells me it’s not. I’ve fucked up.
‘Dominic, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for the drawing to turn out how it did.’
‘I’m not upset.’ He exhales deeply. ‘I know you use your drawings to … I don’t know, work through things. And I came to terms with the fact you and Freya didn’t like each other a long time ago. I mean, I know you’d have liked each other if you weren’t both so damned quick to judge, but the fact you don’t take any shit is one of the reasons I like you.’
‘You like me?’ I can’t keep the grin out of my voice.
‘Don’t let it go to your head. And can we please focus? There’s still a murderer out there.’
‘So what are we going to do? It doesn’t seem like the cops are getting anywhere, and I have a bad feeling that if no better suspect leaps out in front of them, waving a confession, they’re gonna come back to me.’
I’m hoping Dominic, self-certified genius that he is, will contradict that statement, but he doesn’t. Instead, he says, ‘We’d better find out for sure what part Hamish played in all this.’
‘How? Are we going to search his office? Beat a confession out of the guy? I mean, I doubt that’d do us much good, but I’m game if you are.’ I’m only half joking. The urge to throat-punch Hamish still lingers from earlier.
‘Maybe we don’t need to be so criminal about it? We could try to trick him into confessing.’
I think about the greasy way Hamish tried to get me to hire him as a tutor before the holidays. Is that how he talked his way into Freya’s life? And did Ford figure that out?
‘I have an idea,’ I say at last.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The alarm on my phone goes off at 8 p.m. the following night, as if I wasn’t watching the time like an anxious hawk. I turn it off and run through my checklist once again. I have pepper spray (bought this afternoon in a completely legal fashion with my own ID), an old thumb drive, my phone, super-warm clothes I can run in, and my gloves, of course.
I slid a typed note under Hamish’s office door at lunchtime, after checking nobody was around to see. Assuming he read it, he’s either getting ready to come meet me in two hours, or – if he really has nothing to hide – he’s gone to the cops to tell them some weirdo sent him a threatening note.
This is what it said:
I know what you did to Freya Miller. I have the proof from her phone. Meet me at Burden Bridge tonight at 10 p.m. and I’ll tell you how you can get it back. If not, I take it to the cops. Your call.
If this works, he’ll show up, I’ll claim to have removed the videos from her gallery before I gave the burner phone to the cops – including one where she talks about Hamish by name, and how they were planning to meet the day she was killed – and I’ll offer to give him the thumb drive if he’ll get me onto the summer art programme.
I got the idea after thinking over what Carolyn told me about Liam getting caught creeping on young girls because of evidence from his phone. It always comes back to a phone. And Freya was forever recording herself. Why wouldn’t she make a video as security? When I explained the plan to Dominic last night, he was sceptical, to say the least.
‘Why would Freya record a video like that, though? He won’t believe she was that careless.’
‘It doesn’t matter if he doesn’t fully believe it,’ I told him. ‘He just needs a sliver of doubt. It’ll be enough. And it’s not like I’m asking for money or anything it would actually hurt him to trade for it, so I don’t see why he won’t agree.’
At least, that’s what I’m hoping. Of course, if Hamish has murdered two people in cold blood, he might think it’s safer just to get rid of me, too. And that’s what the pepper spray and running clothes are for.
‘Look,’ I said to Dominic when he still wasn’t convinced, ‘if it comes down to it and I have to run, there are a million hiding places I know around the manor where Hamish will never find me in the dark. All the security cameras are working now, and you’ll be inside, watching everything on the screens in your mom’s office. You can call the cops if it starts to look dicey.’
‘Dicey?’ he repeated. ‘I don’t want to put your life at risk, Thorn.’
I laughed. ‘Neither do I, Adrien.’
Dominic sighed, but I could tell he wasn’t going to argue anymore. He wants to see Hamish pay for what he’s done as much as I do – maybe more.
‘I think I preferred it when you called me Monica,’ he said.
‘Really?’
‘No, not really. But you could try calling me Nic, if you wanted to.’
I waited until we were saying goodnight about an hour later before trying it out. It actually felt OK.
I make one last check that I’ve got everything, then head through the kitchen, planning on grabbing some necessary caffeine on my way out. I find Carolyn leaning into the fridge.
‘Aren’t you young folk on some kind of night-time curfew?’ she says, nodding to the dark square of the window.
‘Yep. But I’m not walking anywhere. I’ll take Bessie. And I won’t be long.’
‘Where are you headed?’
I bite my lip, not sure whether to lie. Because I definitely can’t tell her why I’m going to the manor. She’d never let me go. So I choose a half-truth instead.
‘I think I can find out for sure who killed Freya,’ I say. ‘But I need to get something from the manor.’
Carolyn frowns. ‘Get what? Aren’t the Millers there?’
‘They’re in Haverford until late tonight. And this is kinda time-sensitive.’
‘Ava, what is this? You’re freaking me out here.’
Damn it. Carolyn really does look worried. I shouldn’t have said anything.
I paste on a smile and lie harder. ‘Hey, it’s nothing to freak out about. I’ll be back in a couple of hours, OK? And I have my phone with me.’ And pepper spray.
‘Maybe we should check with Ty …’
‘No.’ It comes out louder than I intended. ‘Uncle Ty’s always saying he’s not my boss, and I’m eighteen now. An adult. So let’s just talk about this when I get back, OK?’
Carolyn sighs. ‘How about I come with you then?’
I laugh and shake my head. ‘No. Honestly. This isn’t a big deal.’ I lean in and kiss her cheek. ‘Thank you, though.’
Carolyn shrugs me off, but she’s smiling again. ‘Just be careful, OK? And here.’ She leans back into the fridge and hands me a chilled coffee. ‘One for the road.’
I take out my phone and light up the screen before waving at the camera as I cross Burden Bridge. If it works the way Dominic explained, it should be recording me now. I recite the alphabet as I go, keeping my voice pitched at the same volume I would if I was talking to someone on the far side. If Dominic’s fancy background-noise-cancelling camera mic isn’t good enough to capture Hamish’s confession clearly over the sound of the waterfall, then this is all going to be a waste of time.
The snow has stopped for now, but the clouds hang thick and heavy overhead, so I don’t think it’s done for tonight. My heart races in my chest, and I’m sweating despite the cold.
God, I hope this doesn’t go horribly wrong. I really, really don’t want to die.
I left Bessie out in the lane and came in over the wall. Maybe that’s the way Hamish will go if he’s avoiding the cameras around the property. And, if he actually is the murderer, then he knew enough to do that last time he was here.
My footsteps crunch along the gravel path to the front door of the manor. The house stands completely dark except for one light above the door. Later, when I come back out to wait for Hamish, Dominic will turn out that light, too, to make it seem as though the house is completely empty tonight.
Just as I start to wonder if Dominic’s spy camera is even turned on, I spot someone at the edge of the orchard. I guess he’s walking Pilot.
I bury my hands deeper in my pockets, and try to stomp some warmth into my limbs while I wait for Dominic to join me. But he doesn’t come any closer. In fact, he’s moving kind of oddly. It’s like the shadows around him are shifting, swirling into him, as if he’s drawing in fog.
Wait – is that Dominic?
The figure tilts its head, neck-snap quick, and I fall still.
That’s definitely not Dominic.
It’s Sadie.
As though she heard me thinking her name, her head jerks again in my direction.
Heart thudding, I back away towards the manor.
‘Ava? What are you looking at?’
Dominic stands in the open front doorway, the electric lantern above him shining down a circle of light. I glance back at the orchard, but there’s nothing there now.
My breath comes in shallow gusts that fog the air around us.
‘Do you have a camera aimed at the orchard there?’ I point, showing Dominic where I saw the figure.
‘Yes. I was just watching you on the feed. I didn’t see anyone. Did you?’
‘I … no. Probably not.’
He ushers me into the darkness of the house. ‘Let’s just check the video footage to make sure. We need to know if Hamish is already lurking out there.’
I take one last look over to the orchard. Nothing moves there now, but we both flinch when a barn owl screeches somewhere off in the distance. Dominic turns out the porch light, locks the door, then slides the chain across.
‘And if you stand here –’ Dominic indicates a spot on his laptop screen, next to the orchard side of the bridge – ‘and you stop him when he reaches here, that should be perfect for the camera to pick up.’
Our little test run when I came over the bridge earlier proved that Dominic’s camera set-up works brilliantly. When I pointed this out to him, he gave me an arch look and said, ‘This isn’t my first rodeo.’
