As the car wound its way through the village, she felt certain that she was dreaming. She’d become too stressed out in the police cell and had fallen asleep and was in the throes of what would probably turn into a nightmare.
She waited for the plush, leather-lined interior of the car to melt away, and for her to be hanging off the side of a tall building, with Jacqui screaming with laughter above her, her voice as high and sharp as the shriek of seagulls.
It didn’t happen. Instead, they pulled up outside the house and Trish climbed out as if everything was normal.
“What do you want to do first?” she asked. “Bath? Sleep? Something to eat?”
Once again, Cassie felt blindsided by her kindness. She felt guilty for having considered Trish to be a suspect. While Cassie had been wondering how to convince the police to focus on Trish, she had been trying her best to exonerate Cassie and find out who the real killer was.
“I—I’d like a bath,” Cassie stammered, needing to wash the feel and the smell of that claustrophobic police cell from her skin.
She noticed that there were two arrangements of lilies on the coffee table in the family room. People had already started to offer their sympathies for the death.
“Come and have a cup of coffee first. The children are with family today, and I’ll pick up some fish and chips when I fetch them. We all need a treat tonight.”
While Trish made the coffee, Cassie hurried to her room.
Everything was in its place. Her phone had been put onto the charger. Her luggage and drawers had clearly been searched through because her meds had been moved, but they were still there, which was all that mattered.
Cassie swallowed down her pills and gasped with relief.
Then she went to the kitchen, to find Trish had made coffee and set out a plate of cookies.
“I have to apologize for my behavior earlier,” she said. “I wasn’t thinking clearly and I was beside myself with grief.”
“I’m so sorry about everything,” Cassie began, but Trish shook her head.
“What’s done is done. There was fault on both sides; it would be wrong of me to say otherwise.” She lowered her head and pressed her hands over her eyes for a minute before continuing.
“However, I don’t believe you killed my husband.”
“You don’t?” Cassie couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Trish was on her side after all.
Cassie felt tears well up again, but this time they were caused by relief and gratitude.
“I can’t tell you what that means to me,” she whispered. “I’ve been feeling so bad about everything.”
“It’s a complicated situation, and I’m sorry you have been caught up in it,” Trish sympathized. “However, the fact remains my beloved Ryan was murdered, and somebody did it. So the question is—who?”
With her meds starting to work, the coffee in front of her, in the safe familiarity of the kitchen, Cassie found herself able to think more clearly.
One person came immediately to mind.
Harriet the cleaner.
Could she have done it?
Yes, she could. Harriet had worked on Monday—it had been her last day before leaving, and she had left on bad terms, extremely angry, with a serious grudge.
She could have opened up one of the wine bottles and added the poison. She wouldn’t have known who would drink the wine or when, but she could have guessed that Ryan would probably drink most of it, and might not have cared if the poison affected other people too.
Cassie hesitated. Telling Trish about Harriet would open a can of worms. For a start, she was sure that Ryan had slept with Harriet. Trish didn’t know that yet, and Cassie didn’t want to tell her. She didn’t feel brave enough—or medicated enough—to deal with Trish’s reaction.
The other suspect was even more likely, but if she spoke up, the consequences might be worse.
Cassie couldn’t forget how Dylan had sat in bed, watching her, and the chilling words he’d spoken. He’d been factual, and the only emotion he’d shown had been faint amusement at her shock and disbelief.
Dylan had shown he could steal without any guilt, and that he could kill with no remorse. Did he see a moral difference between an animal and a human? She didn’t know. He might be only twelve years old but she was frightened of him. She didn’t know what his motive would have been for adding poison to the wine, but perhaps he hadn’t needed one; or had done it for some sort of twisted revenge.
Her bail conditions meant she couldn’t leave the house. If she told Trish she suspected Dylan, and he learned what she’d done, it might put her in danger.
“I have some ideas,” she said. “I want to tell you but I need more time to get my head straight. Could we discuss it later?”
Trish smiled sadly.
“I had a feeling you would sense who it was. I also have strong suspicions based on what I’ve heard and seen, but I’ll be truthful, Cassie, I am scared to share them with you, although I know I must. So yes, please take more time. This is a serious issue. Neither of us wants to make unfounded accusations, but both of us will have to be brave and honest if we are going to work together. Have something to eat, have a rest. We can speak again later.”
Cassie felt a surge of relief that Trish’s suspicions clearly didn’t include her. It reassured her that the sleepwalking, and her fragmented memories, had simply been due to a nightmare. After all, if Trish thought she’d committed the crime, she would never have bailed her out.
“Where are the children?” Cassie asked.
“They’re visiting their aunt, Ryan’s older sister. She asked if they could keep each other company today and I thought it would do them good. I’m fetching them at five, and I’ll bring back supper on the way home.”
Trish stood up.
“I’ve tried to keep this as quiet as possible,
