I stared at the ground, unsure where to start. ‘He’d been drinking,’ I began.
‘It was an accident?’ Stuart said, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
Part of me wanted to tell him that yes, it was an accident. That Bill had been planning a pootle around the lanes in his beloved sports car on a sunny summer’s day and had accidentally crashed into the hedge. ‘At least he died doing something he loved,’ I could say. ‘We should take comfort from that.’
But who was I kidding? The lack of skid marks on the tarmac, the length of hose taped to the Elan’s exhaust pipe, and the suicide note in the lock-up told another story. I had to tell Stuart the truth. Most of it, anyway.
I shook my head. ‘He was about to gas himself in the car when I arrived.’
Stuart drew a sharp intake of breath.
‘I tried to stop him, but he jumped in the car and drove straight at the hedge. There was nothing I could do.’
‘Christ.’ Stuart buckled at the waist, cradling his head in his hands. ‘Had he found out about Mel and me?’
I looked at him in disbelief. ‘You think this is about you? You’re something else, you really are.’
‘But why else would he -?’
‘He couldn’t live with the guilt.’
‘Guilt?’ Stuart looked dazed, and I swallowed down my impatience.
‘For pity’s sake, don’t you get it? He killed Niamh.’
‘Why would he…?’
‘She was blackmailing him.’ I paused. Did Stuart need to know Bill was a rapist? Discovering he was Immy’s biological father would be bad enough. ‘They slept together in Corfu,’ I said.
Stuart blinked several times as he grasped the meaning behind my words. ‘Are you saying he’s… he’s…’
‘Immy’s father,’ I finished. I reached out and touched his arm. ‘I know it’s hard to take in. I was as shocked as you.’
He shook his head and turned away from me. ‘No, he can’t be… He wouldn’t have… You’ve got it all wrong.’
‘Why would I make up something like that?’
Stuart’s phone rang, making us both jump. He stared at the screen and paled. ‘It’s Mel. What do I say?’
I rounded on him, all my pent-up grief and despair spewing out of me like venom from a spitting cobra. ‘I don’t have all the answers! Why don’t you decide what to do for once in your life!’ In the distance I heard sirens approaching, but I wasn’t quite finished. ‘Oh, and for your information, Bill knew you were shagging his wife. And before you accuse me of letting the cat out of the bag, he saw you together in Corfu. He’s known for the last four years.’
I turned on my heels and strode towards the lane without a backward glance.
Bill was pronounced dead at the scene and the sirens were silent as the ambulance carried his body away. I gave a statement to police and a baby-faced officer was dispatched to Melanie’s with the unenviable task of delivering the death message.
‘You’d better go to her,’ I told Stuart as we watched the officer leave.
His eyes widened. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Of course. She needs you. I’ll be fine.’
‘Will you go home?’
‘I might stay here a while longer, in case they need anything.’ I nodded towards the sergeant and constable from the serious collision investigation unit who’d arrived half an hour after the ambulance and local patrols, and were now measuring the distance from the lock-up to Bill’s mangled car. ‘I suppose I’d better ring Bill’s parents.’
‘No, I’ll do that from Mel’s place,’ Stuart said.
‘OK. I’ll phone Sheila, and I’d better tell Sam Bennett so she can let DI Jones know what’s happened.’
Stuart frowned. ‘Why do they need to know?’
‘Because Immy is missing, her biological mother has been murdered, and her biological father has killed himself. I’d say that was pretty relevant, wouldn’t you?’
‘But the police don’t know Immy was Bill’s daughter.’
‘“Was?”’ I said, shaking my head. ‘You think she’s dead.’
Stuart hugged himself. ‘You don’t really believe she’s still alive? I think we should forget the conspiracy theories and stop kidding ourselves that Immy is still out there somewhere. Face it, Cleo, she fell in the river and drowned. It was a tragic accident.’
I stared at the man my husband had become and wondered when the fight had left him. That zest for life, the competitive edge that had seen him play for the university’s 1st XV rugby team, the sense of humour that used to have me doubled up with laughter. But they had long gone, along with his chiselled jaw and his six-pack. And even if he rediscovered that zest, that fighting spirit, I knew it was too late.
‘I want a divorce,’ I said, the words ringing in my ears. ‘As soon as all this is over.’
‘You don’t mean that,’ he said in a wounded voice.
‘I don’t want to be married to you any more. I’ve known deep down for a long time. It’s just taken Immy disappearing for me to realise. Now go. You should be with Melanie. I’ll talk to you later.’
He gazed at me with puppy dog eyes, then pulled his car keys from his pocket and slouched towards the Audi. As I watched him climb stiffly into the car and drive away, I wondered what I would have done if he’d refused to leave. If he’d declared our marriage was worth saving, was worth the fight. Would I have given him - us - another chance? But there was no point wondering, because he didn’t, and he hadn’t.
And he was wrong. Immy was still alive. I was sure of it.
Chapter Forty-One
I headed home, letting myself into the empty house and collapsing on the sofa in an exhausted heap. There were things I needed to do, and I ran through them in my head as I kicked off my shoes and drew my feet underneath me. Call Sam Bennett to see if there was an update on the search for Immy and to tell her about Bill. Check in
