Here We Lie

  This is my brother’s house.

  I realize I am holding my breath and take a deep lungful of cold air. I am standing opposite Martin and Cameron’s modern townhouse. And here, on the screen in front of me, the icon for my phone shows that it is definitely still inside the building. It makes no sense. What have Martin and Cameron got to do with Lish’s drug dealing? Or the men who took Dan? Apart from anything else, they were heading off on holiday on Boxing Day so I’m certain that neither of them can possibly be at home.

  No lights are on in the house – at least not at the front. But someone must be inside. If not my brother and his boyfriend, then perhaps Lish’s drug-dealing contacts. Perhaps Gary. I put down Dan’s iPad and zip up my jacket. The curtains are drawn across the upstairs bedroom. Is Dan in there? No one is looking out. I creep across the road to the edge of the garage and reach for the top of the side gate. In seconds I’m over it and leaping down onto the paving beyond. After climbing the big gates in the park it’s easy to land with the lightest of thuds. I still hold my breath, waiting to see if I’ve been heard. No one comes. I race along the passageway, creeping under the window of the kitchen wall as I pass. I stop to take my bearings. The only room downstairs at the back is the big kitchen/diner that leads out onto the garden. The lights are on in this room, casting shadows across the back lawn, right down to the water beyond. As I creep closer I catch sight of the river itself. Martin and Cameron’s boat is moored at the end of the garden. It looms darkly out of the water. Lights are on in the central cabin.

  I peer around the wall and look into the kitchen/diner. The room is empty. I stare in at the shadowy interior, at the familiar table and chairs, the designer sofa and the artwork on the walls. I have been here many times, hanging out with my brother and his boyfriend, laughing and joking with them. Is it possible that they’ve let Lish use their house? If it is, they must surely be ignorant of what he is doing here. And yet Martin knows most of what I know. Surely he would be suspicious? I turn again to the boat. The light from the cabin flickers, as if someone has walked past it.

  Never mind what Martin and Cameron are aware of, I need to find Dan. The locator app tells me he is within a few metres of where I’m standing. Could he be on the boat? It’s worth a look. Keeping to the cover of the trees on the right-hand side of the garden, I scurry down to the river’s edge. Water slaps at the hull of the Maggie May. Again I’m thankful for my rubber-soled boots as I step gently on board. My heart hammers against my throat as I tiptoe along the cabin wall to the tiny window. Anyone looking out from the back of the house would be able to see me, but no one is looking. I creep up and peer into the cabin.

  No sign of Dan, but Lish is in there. He looks smarter than when I last saw him, in skinny chinos and a zip-up wool jacket. His hair is carefully slicked back, making him look more like Jed than usual. He is peering into a tote bag, his hands dug deep into his pockets. He looks up. He’s talking to someone I can’t see across the room. Is that the guy who threatened me? Could it be Gary? A new possibility rushes through my head: perhaps Gary and Lish are making illicit use of my brother’s house and boat while he and Cameron are away.

  Lish reaches down, out of my eyeline. He straightens up, clutching a pile of cardboard packages bound together with cellophane. What’s inside them? Drugs? I inch forward, trying to make out the markings on the packet but they are too small. A few more seconds and the last packet is in the bag. Lish says something I can’t hear, then he picks up the bag and walks out of sight.

  I duck down as the cabin door opens and footsteps sound across the deck. I wait, hidden from view, as agonizing seconds pass. Two light thuds signify Lish and whoever he’s with have jumped onto the bank. I wait a few more long seconds, then peer around the cabin wall. I’m just in time to see two dark figures – once of which is definitely Lish – disappearing into the house.

  Who is the other man? Surely it has to be Gary? And surely his and Lish’s presence here proves they are using the place while Mart and Cameron are away? My heart thuds. And then I hear a muffled cry coming from inside the cabin.

  Someone else is on the boat.

  Dan.

  I have to get inside. I look around, trying to work out how. I am standing on the sun deck where just a few months ago we all sat and ate that dinner in Corsica – the sea bream from a local trader – the night Dee Dee died. I touch the back of one of the chairs nailed to the deck. It is covered with canvas, protected from the winter weather. The fabric is rough to my touch. That holiday feels like another lifetime: when Jed and I were happy. We’d watched the people eating in that restaurant. An image of the elderly lady in the crazy tiara flashes into my mind’s eye, then Jed insisting Dee Dee ate her fish – fish that Cameron had cooked – and my headache, which led to the original purchase of the ExAche powders. I suddenly remember how Jed and I came back to the boat early – and alone – that day in Corsica, and how we let ourselves into the cabin with the spare key.

  I race to the tarpaulin that is fastened over the lifeboat at the far end of the yacht. This is where Jed found the spare key before. Do Martin and Cameron still keep it here? I lift up the edge of the tarp and feel along the side of the railings against which the lifeboat is secured. It smells of dust and damp and oil. I push aside the bollard that has been placed here and reach further back. A waterproof pack is taped to the deck floor behind the lifeboat. I peel up the first part of the tape and scrabble around. My fingers light on something small and curved. I tug the key away from its hiding place. Clutching the cold metal in my hand, I head back to the cabin door. A quick glance at the house – still in darkness – then the cabin door opens with a click.

  I creep inside. I daren’t put on the light but it’s obvious the main cabin is empty. Dan’s muffled cries and thumps are coming from the bedroom, where Jed and I made love that same afternoon all those months ago. I hurry across and open the door.

  Dan is sitting on the bed, his hands tightly bound by a chain and a gag around his mouth. His eyes widen as he sees me. I hurry over and pull the gag away.

  ‘Em?’ he breathes. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

  ‘I tracked the phone,’ I whisper. ‘I just saw Lish.’

  ‘Is he here?’ Dan grimaces. ‘I haven’t seen or heard anyone except those guys who took me in the park.’

  ‘Are you all right?’ I’m anxiously examining his face, his arms.

  ‘They haven’t hurt me . . . yet.’ Dan holds up the chain that is wound tightly around his wrists and padlocked to the bedpost. He indicates the padlock. ‘There’s a key for that. I heard one guy tell the other to put it in the knife box, whatever that means.’

  I hurry back into the main cabin and along to the galley kitchen. I daren’t turn on the light so I’m straining to see in the gloom as I pull open drawers and cupboards. What on earth is a ‘knife box’? As far as I know, the only knives on board are stored along a magnetic strip above the galley counter – one of the Maggie May’s many neat space-saving devices. I rummage under the sink and through every cupboard in turn. Each compartment is tightly packed with all the paraphernalia of yachting life, from crockery to oil cans. No knife box as far as I can tell. I go back to the magnetic strip holding the knives against the wall as my eyes adjust properly to the dim light. There are just three knives, none of them particularly sharp. I reach out and pull them off the strip. I prod the empty strip. It doesn’t budge. My heart beats loudly in the silence. I press the strip to the side and it gives, just slightly. I stare at it for a second, then shove it harder. With a judder the strip shifts to the left, revealing a gap in the wall behind. Holding my breath I reach inside. My fingers find a handle. I tug at it and the three rows of tiles below come away in my hands. Hidden in the wall is a metal box the size of a briefcase. With a jolt I remember Jed telling me about the airtight boxes that block the scent of the drugs so that customs officials and their dogs can’t sniff them out.

  I lay the box on the counter and lift the airt
ight lid. It gives way with a suck. A key that looks like it will fit Dan’s padlock lies on top of a box covered in bubblewrap. A tight lump in my throat, I take out the box and unfurl the plastic covering.

  Ten packs of Viagra, all wrapped up together, meet my eyes. I reach further and pull out another, similar bundle, this time of stanozolol. My fingers tremble as I undo the Viagra and remove a blister strip of pills. They look real enough. Stolen. No, wait. The ‘g’ on the back of the pack is out of sync with the others.

  Fakes.

  Is Lish storing his drugs on Martin and Cameron’s boat too? Or is it possible that my brother is actually involved? After all, surely Martin and Cameron would be aware of this hiding place set into the very wall of their boat? No. I can’t believe that my brother knows about this. Gary must be behind it: he was on the holiday in Corsica and in the bar when the Snapchat from Laura’s phone came through. He is Lish’s uncle and he has shown an overt interest in Jed’s case against Benecke Tricorp from the start. I even overheard him telling someone that Jed’s desire to prosecute the company was the ‘wrong focus’, as if he knew they weren’t responsible for Dee Dee’s death.

  I grab two packs of Viagra and shove them inside my jacket, then put the rest back in the box. As I reach for the key to Dan’s padlock a fist grabs my arm. Wrenches me around. It’s the smaller, wirier of the men from Richmond Park. His skin is pock-marked, his eyes pale and cold.

  I open my mouth to scream.

  ‘Shut mouth.’ The man drags me out of the galley and pushes me against the wall. He grabs my bag and throws it to the floor. A second later his gun is out of his pocket and pressing against my forehead.

  I stare at the metal barrel, shocked into silence.

  ‘In there.’ He indicates the bathroom.

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘We said before: last chance.’ The man shoves me towards the bathroom. ‘This time, you die.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, hold on, Bogdan.’ It’s Cameron’s voice, a sharp hiss across the cabin.

  I spin around. My brother’s boyfriend is standing by the open door, silhouetted against the light outside. He’s dressed, as usual, in smart designer clothes: black jeans and a lemon yellow sweater. My first reaction is relief. If Cameron is here, I will be okay. Apart from anything else, Cameron is a trustafarian. He’s already ridiculously rich, he can’t possibly be involved in drug dealing for money. Plus, he is kind and thoughtful.

  And then he switches on the cabin light and I see the scowl on his face and the fury in his eyes and my relief vanishes.

  August 2014

  So . . . I’ve been chatting on UFrenz with Bex ALL WEEK and the holiday is coming up and I’m worried that I won’t be able to go online and chat with Bex while we’re away because Daddy was saying there might not be wi-fi in our villa and if I can’t chat with Bex I will seriously DIE. I was on with her earlier and we were private chatting and she said how her mum was sick and how it was really, really upsetting and how the girls at school were so mean about it. Like they were hinting her mum getting sick was BEX’S fault. I told her that it wasn’t, that it made me think how I should appreciate my mum, even though she is SO annoying, and Bex said I was very smart and kind for seeing that and that it upsets her because most of her friends moan about their mums and she’d give anything for hers to be well and getting cross with her again. I think it’s worse because she has a stepdad who sounds horrible. He won’t let her have a proper phone so she’s got a really basic one just for texts and calls. She can only go on the internet on his computer and only when he can see what she’s doing which is why she is mainly on UFrenz when he’s visiting her mum in hospital. I think she’s having chemotherapy for her cancer but Bex doesn’t like to talk about it too much. It is SO sad. Poor Bex.

  She should be online soon, I can’t wait to chat with her again.

  December 2014

  Cameron and I stare at each other.

  He raises his eyebrows. ‘You tracked us?’

  My heart thuds with fear.

  ‘Emily!’ Dan yells from the bedroom beyond the main cabin. ‘What’s happening? Are you all right?’

  Cameron puts his finger to his lips. Bogdan disappears into the bedroom. I hold my breath as Dan’s yell is muffled again. An instant later Bogdan reappears, shutting the bedroom door behind him.

  ‘Bring her up to the house,’ Cameron orders in a low voice. He turns and marches out of the cabin.

  Bogdan grabs my arm. ‘Not one word,’ he hisses in my ear.

  Panic grabs at my throat. ‘Dan!’ I call out.

  A muffled yell is the only response I can hear, before I’m wrenched across the cabin and out into the chill night air. The Maggie May creaks as we jump off, onto the grass. Cameron is striding ahead, already almost at the house. My breath mists in front of my face. How can this be happening? Cameron is my brother’s boyfriend. I’ve known him for years. How can he be involved in Lish’s drug dealing?

  Could he be responsible for Dee Dee’s death? What about Gary?

  Could Martin be involved? Cameron disappears into the kitchen. I turn to Bogdan, still tightly gripping my arm.

  ‘Where’s Martin?’ I ask. ‘Where’s my brother?’

  Bogdan says nothing.

  I am shaking as we reach the house. Across the kitchen/diner and up to the mezzanine living space with its surround-sound speakers and designer light fittings. Cameron is standing in front of the TV on the wall, its dark screen highlighting the yellow of his jumper. He looks so ridiculously preppy and respectable I am filled with doubt. Have I misunderstood everything?

  ‘Why is Dan on your boat?’ I demand. ‘Where’s Martin?’

  Bogdan shoves me onto the sofa. I spring up. He forces me down again, his hands rough and strong on my arm. I have a sudden flashback to the tube attack. It was him, I’m more certain than ever. And he works for Cameron, which means . . .

  ‘Thanks, Bogdan, you can go,’ Cameron orders.

  Without a word Bogdan slips out of the room and closes the door behind him.

  ‘He’s just outside,’ Cameron says smoothly, ‘so don’t think about running.’

  ‘He was the one who pushed me at the tube station.’

  Cameron studies my face. ‘That’s right, he was, though he wasn’t supposed to hurt you, just take the drugs that were in your bag.’

  My legs give way under me and I sink back onto the sofa. ‘How did you know?’

  ‘That you had the drugs Lish sold Dan?’ Cameron sighs. ‘Lish knew they were in your house because his father had told him the night before, so he and Bogdan waited outside. He was hoping to get a chance to go inside and look for them, but he saw you putting them into your handbag as you left the next morning. He got Bogdan to follow you.’

  ‘And that was you calling me? Threatening me? Sending the . . . the dead bird?’

  Cameron gives me a curt nod.

  I let this sink in. So Gary has nothing to do with the disguised voice. Jed’s brother is not involved.

  But what about mine?

  Cameron sits down in the armchair next to the TV. ‘I have done everything in my power not to hurt you, Emily, out of respect for your brother, but I have to say you have pushed me to the absolute—’

  ‘Does Martin know?’ The words shoot out of me. ‘The drugs.’ I feel for the boxes inside my jacket. ‘The fake Viagra, the stanozolol . . .’ My stomach churns.

  ‘No.’ Cameron’s green eyes meet mine. ‘I promise you, Martin knows nothing about my business. He thinks I’ve just had to break into our holiday in order to deal with a crisis at one of my charities.

  I stare at his yellow sweater, at the discreet designer logo over the right breast. And it suddenly falls into place. Cam doesn’t have a trust fund at all. Drugs fund his expensive lifestyle.

  ‘You lied about your family, didn’t you? You just sail around picking up fake drugs in Africa or Asia or wherever, then selling them here. And Lish isn’t the only dealer you use
, either; you’ve probably got whole strings of them, all over the country.’

  Cameron tilts his head to one side. ‘Martin always said you were smarter than you come across on first meeting,’ he says, a thin smile curling across his lips. ‘“That fragile, doe-eyed thing some straight men go mad for, don’t let it fool you,” Martin told me. “She might be a bit naïve about some things, but she’s cleverer than the rest of us put together”.’

  ‘But Martin doesn’t know?’ I need to hear it again. The idea that my brother could be in any way involved in Cameron’s crimes is too appalling to face.

  ‘Martin has no idea.’ I look into the hard green of his eyes. He’s telling the truth. ‘Before you judge me, I’d like you to listen,’ Cameron goes on. ‘What I do hurts nobody. I buy drugs made to more or less the same specifications as the patented brands and I sell them on to people who can’t get a prescription or . . . or are maybe just too embarrassed to ask their doctor for them. It’s a necessary service. It’s supply and demand. If I wasn’t providing the drugs, someone else would . . . someone who might not be so scrupulous about their suppliers. With what I’m involved in, no one gets hurt.’

  ‘What about Dee Dee?’ I demand, a sob rising inside me as I picture her the day she died, all clumsy and affectionate. ‘She saw something, didn’t she . . . like I saw you and Lish earlier? She found out what you were up to and you killed her to keep her quiet.’

  ‘No,’ Cameron says. ‘Absolutely not. I’m not in the business of murder, especially not innocent children.’

  We stare at each other.

  ‘Seriously, Emily, that’s not what happened. It’s unthinkable. For a start, Lish may only be nineteen, but he would never have stood by while someone deliberately killed his own sister. Also Dee Dee was barely in her teens. I think we could have found a way to keep her quiet even if she’d known what we were doing, which she absolutely didn’t.’

  ‘Lish had access to potassium cyanide over the summer. I know he did.’