Cruel Summer (25 page)

Ben’s eyes widened. Katie gave him an
I know
look as he joined them at the poolside and offered Luisa his hand. ‘Hi, I’m Ben.’

‘Luisa Batada from the Civil Guard.’

‘She’s come to investigate why we called an ambulance yesterday.’ Ryan hoped Ben could pick up the threads of the lie quickly.

‘Yes!’ Katie might as well have punched the air. ‘Show her your foot!’

‘My foot?’

‘Yes!’ Ryan urged. ‘You know – where you stepped on the glass, which is why we called the ambulance but then realised we didn’t need it.’ He was well aware
that this scene was tipping into farce territory. But who doesn’t love a little farce every now and then?

‘Oh, right.’ Ben sat on a lounger and held up his foot. There was a now-dirty plaster half-attached to his heel. ‘It looked worse than it was with all the blood.’

Luisa took a cursory glance. ‘OK. I came last night and there was nobody home.’

How were they going to answer this one? ‘We were out on the boat,’ Katie admitted. ‘It was, like, a boat party.’

Luisa didn’t like the sound of that. ‘You should not take the boat out at night. Was there drinking?’

‘I sailed the boat and didn’t drink,’ Katie replied. That much was true.

‘You are lucky the coastguard did not find you.’ That was also true.

Alisha and Greg burst through the patio doors at the same time. Ryan saw them a second before Luisa turned. Greg gave a subtle thumbs up. The villa was safe. At least Ryan hoped it was.

When Luisa saw the twins she stood up. ‘Is it OK for me to look now?’

‘Yes. They were the ones having sex,’ Ryan said.

Alisha’s and Greg’s faces began to twist in sheer horror, but Ryan’s unblinking stare must have sent the telepathic message it was meant to. Greg cottoned on before Alisha
could protest. ‘Yeah. This is my girl.’ He slung an arm around his twin.

‘Oh, my God.’ Alisha screwed her eyes tight shut and went along with the ruse.

‘Sorry about that,’ Greg said. ‘We didn’t realise the police were here.’

‘It’s OK.’ Luisa now looked more bored than suspicious, which Ryan took to be a good sign. ‘Is this everyone?’

Ryan ran the numbers in his head. ‘Yes.’

‘OK,’ said Luisa. ‘I will check the house and go.’

‘Please . . .’ Katie motioned for Luisa to follow her back up the terrace stairs. Ryan followed them into the villa, lightheaded from holding his breath.

At first glance, Alisha, Ben and Greg had merely tidied the lounge and kitchen. A quick glance confirmed that the ‘blood’-covered dagger was no longer on the coffee table. The
sofa-bed had been tucked away and the bedding folded into a neat pile. Roxanne’s luggage was nowhere to be seen.

It took Ryan a moment to work out what was different: the wall. Rather than try to wash off the gruesome lettering, Alisha, Greg and Ben had nailed the sofa throw onto the wall as if it were a
tapestry instead of a blanket. It was a traditional Spanish pattern so it didn’t look out of place. The only problem was that they’d done a slapdash job of hanging the throw and it
bulged and draped unevenly. Furthermore, the nails jutted out of the plaster. The throw didn’t look at all secure. If it fell . . .

Luisa seemed satisfied though. She proceeded out of the lounge and up the stairs. Ryan threw a look over his shoulder to Alisha, who gave a reassuring nod. On the top landing, the policewoman
gave only the most basic of checks to each of the bedrooms. Ryan saw Roxanne’s backpack resting alongside his case at the foot of his bed. It blended perfectly.

‘Is everything OK?’ Katie asked.

‘Yes. Sorry to come so early,’ said Luisa, heading for the front door.

‘No problem.’ Katie smiled. ‘Sorry about the emergency call. It won’t happen again.’ She opened the door.

Ryan felt his shoulders drop. Next to him, Alisha also seemed to relax.

‘Be safe,’ Luisa said. Then she paused on the threshold and looked back into the house, as if having second thoughts. That moment seemed to last for an eternity. Eventually, she
reached into her pocket and handed Katie a crisp, white business card. ‘Next time, if there is any problem, call my phone, OK?’ Luisa scanned their faces, trying to find the missing
puzzle piece she could evidently sense. She was no fool. She could feel their unease, Ryan could tell.

‘OK, thank you.’ Katie murmured.

Finally Luisa nodded and stepped outside. ‘Goodbye,’ she called. ‘No more sailing at night. And . . . wear a condom.’

‘We promise!’ Ryan smiled, waving like one of the bloody Railway Children. As soon as Luisa reached her patrol car, he slammed the door shut. ‘Right. We need to
talk.’

‘Erin,’ Katie stated simply.

Ryan shook his head. ‘Nope! Not that. This – if that was our Janey, then that means one of
us
is the killer.’

SCENE 30 – RYAN

T
hey piled down the stairs back into the lounge.

‘At least we don’t have to worry about the resurrected corpse of Janey hunting us down and killing us,’ Ryan said. ‘I didn’t think it was
that
kind of
story, somehow.’ Although it would’ve been
cool
if it had been. Zombies make any story at least forty-five per cent better.

Alisha shook her head. ‘But that means one of us killed Rox.’

‘Not necessarily.’ Ben shrugged. ‘There could be someone else watching us. Someone we haven’t even thought of.’

‘Unlikely.’ Ryan wondered if it was too early for a drink, or a Valium, or three. ‘
Think on thy sins.
This isn’t a random thing. This is someone who
knows
us.’

There was a profound silence. Each of them kept a safe distance from one another, the air ripe with almost tangible mistrust. A glaring spotlight was firmly back on them all. Luisa had been a
diversion, nothing more than a red herring.

‘What does that message even mean?’ Alisha demanded, scowling at the throw which hid the letters on the wall.

‘Isn’t it obvious?’ Greg snapped at his sister. ‘Think about what we did.’

Ryan wasn’t so sure it
was
obvious, but Katie spoke next. She was sitting on the edge of the sofa, hugging her knees like she was in the brace position for a crash landing.

And, oh, how we’ve crashed!
Ryan mused.

‘It’s from
Othello
,’ Katie said.

Greg eyed her warily. ‘How do you know?’

Katie babbled, panicking. ‘Everyone knows! I didn’t write it, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I . . . if I had, why would I admit knowing it?’

Ryan had heard the phrase before – he thought it had been in a Bond film. The others all looked baffled but, of course, whoever wrote it would be going all out to appear clueless.

‘What does it mean?’ Alisha asked. ‘In the play.’

‘It’s from the scene where Othello tries to get Desdemona to confess to an affair she didn’t have,’ Katie explained. ‘Desdemona had been set up, but Othello asks
her to try to remember what she’s done – to “think on her sins”.’

Ben sighed, looking pasty. ‘Someone wants us to confess.’

Ryan squeezed the bridge of his nose. The embryonic headache in his skull was only going to grow as the day progressed, he feared. ‘Confess to what? None of this makes sense.’ The
others waited for him to continue. He took centre stage, Poirot-style. ‘Not being funny, but if the killer is one of us then they’ve got away with it! Rox tried to blackmail us, but the
killer stopped her and we’ve
all
been getting rid of the evidence. All the killer had to do was sit tight for another week and then get the hell out of here. So why would he –
or she – mess with us? It was all over.’

‘Well, obviously bloody not,’ Greg hissed through his teeth. ‘
Where’s Erin?
’

‘Exactly!’ Ryan agreed. ‘Where
is
Erin? Why write on the wall? Why did someone bring that scarecrow mask from the night Janey died? And where is it now?’

Greg sprang off the dining chair he was sitting on and kicked it across the room. ‘It doesn’t matter! Erin is missing. If she’s dead it’s my fault. I . . . I should have
looked after her better.’

Greg’s pain hurt Ryan. For one, he’d never seen Greg feeling such grief. For another, he knew Greg would never feel that way for him. If he died, Greg wouldn’t even shed a
tear. If it was a match day, he wouldn’t even come to the funeral. ‘It
does
matter, Greg. We need to figure out what’s going on.’

‘No.’ Katie wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. ‘Greg’s right. We can’t sit here theorising about Shakespeare while Erin’s missing. She might need our
help.’

Her words cooled Greg. ‘Thank you. Please, can you all help me?’

Ryan took a deep breath. The questions would have to go on ice. ‘Let’s get looking, then,’ he said.

Katie took control in the warm manner of a
Miss Honey
primary-school teacher. ‘OK, so, where could she be? She was very upset last night; she may have just left to go home. But if
not, then where else? The beach? Or maybe she walked to Zahara de los Atunes.’

‘What about that B&B we drove past just down the coast?’ Ben suggested. ‘Perhaps she went there.’

‘I can’t see her handbag anywhere,’ Alisha offered. ‘It was that huge pink Mulberry one. It’s gone. Maybe she took it with her.’

‘It’s worth a try.’ Greg closed his eyes. Every molecule of Ryan’s body wanted to go and comfort him. The conversation last night had released the kraken inside him. All
his good work at forgetting Greg Cole had come undone. He was jealous of Greg’s feelings for Erin. Pure and simple. Acknowledging the sensation didn’t make it any less searing hot. Who
was Erin? Some pretty med student. There was no way that she and Greg had the heat they’d had. No way. She was nothing more than a ‘beard’, so why was Greg in such pain?

A new thought occurred to Ryan. Erin had been alone in the lounge all night. Could she have left the message on the wall? That raised the same question again:
who was Erin?
She was a
contradiction – a cutesy medical student, sweet as apple pie but with a sharp aftertaste. Ryan wondered if Erin was as good at pretending as her ‘bifriend’ was.

Katie ran for the stairs. ‘I need to get dressed. Give me two minutes.’

‘Me, too.’ Alisha followed close behind.

Ben also headed upstairs to throw on some clothes but Greg held Ryan back. Ryan was gratified to see that his friend had to drag his eyes away from Ryan’s naked torso to make eye
contact.

‘Hey,’ Greg said.

‘Hey what?’

Greg leaned in to whisper. Ryan, instead, leaned in to kiss him because fortune favours the brave. Their lips brushed.

‘No. Don’t.’ Greg’s protest was empty, half-hearted. Ryan persisted. This time Greg returned the kiss, albeit hesitantly. Ryan swore he could feel Greg melting into the
embrace, but then Greg pulled back, his expression pained, torn. ‘Ryan, please. I can’t do this. I need to find Erin.’

Ryan drew himself up. ‘Fine.’

Greg sighed. ‘Listen,’ he whispered. He brushed the back of Ryan’s hand with a finger. ‘I need you to stay here.’

‘What?’

‘While we’re out, looking for Erin, I need you to stay here and turn this place over. Find Roxanne’s phone, her laptop, anything. Just get rid of it. OK?’

Ryan realised he was a dirty little secret that needed to be destroyed. ‘I see. Burn the evidence.’

‘You understand, yeah? I need to make things right. There’s a chance that Erin . . . we might find her.’

Ryan wasn’t prepared to surrender any more of his dignity. ‘I hope you do. Erin is very sweet. She deserves better than you,’ he told Greg.

‘I know.’ Greg looked embarrassed. Maybe that was what he saw in Erin. She was something ‘good’ to elevate him out of all the ‘bad’ in his life. Ryan was left
to wallow in the mud alone.

Katie galloped down the stairs, now wearing short shorts and a simple tennis T-shirt. ‘Right, I’m ready.’

‘Cool,’ Greg said. ‘Ryan’s gonna stay here in case she comes back to the villa while we’re gone.’

‘OK, good call.’

Alisha and Ben also returned to the lounge, ready for the search.

‘OK . . .’ Greg tried to take charge, but it was clear his attention was unfocused. There was only Erin on his mind. ‘OK . . . I’ll drive into town, I guess.’

Katie took his hands. ‘Greg, you’re shaking. You can’t drive like this. I’ll take you in my hire car.’

‘OK.’ Greg looked grateful for the support and Ryan realised why he loved Katie so much. Even after last night, she had forgiven Greg entirely, never holding a grudge.

‘Lish – stick with Ben, yeah?’ Greg said. ‘I don’t want anything to happen to you.’

Alisha nodded. ‘Sure.’ And Ryan could swear she was
blushing
, but there was no time to think about that now.

‘
No one
calls the police – even when you get a signal,’ Ryan warned.

Greg sighed impatiently. ‘I won’t! Can we not have this debate now? We need to find Erin.’

They agreed to search all morning and meet back at the villa by two. If there was no sign of Erin by then . . . well, there was no plan B. They’d cross that bridge when they came to it.
They worked so well together, Ryan had to remind himself that one of them was, in all likelihood, a cold-blooded killer.

Ben and Alisha set off down the beach, while Katie and Greg drove down the road to check out the B&B and then go on to Zahara de los Atunes. The second they were all out of sight, Ryan got
to work. First he made himself a strong black coffee. The night before he’d barely slept a wink – Ben had been up and down like a jack-in-the-box and every time he closed his eyes all
he saw was Roxanne’s dead face. He had a horrible feeling it would be a while before any of them slept like regular people again.

He took Roxanne’s rucksack out onto the top terrace. It was a brand-new morning in paradise. The sky, sea and sand dazzled him but he could no longer appreciate their beauty. Everything
was tainted; the pristine white walls of the villa looked grimy up close, the sand was strewn with driftwood and the sea was full of corpses.