Hanging Hill - Mo Hayder [143]
‘But I’ve thought about it and thought about it, and from where I’m sitting I haven’t committed a crime. It’s not wrong to want something more, is it? I thought that was how the world went round.’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, in a dry voice. ‘Whatever floats your boat. But all of this is academic because it’s too late now.’
‘Debbie, you mean?’
‘Miss Personality.’
‘I’m not stupid, Zoë. I can see through her.’
‘Can you? Interesting. What do you see?’
He sighed. ‘Probably the same as you see. You can’t trust anything she says. She didn’t know what she was talking about with Ralph Hernandez and now she’s walking round the office like she owns it, turning up to every meeting. A sterling careerist.’
‘Oh, you noticed.’
‘And the truth is, I don’t even fancy her.’
‘You did well, then, you know, to sleep with someone you didn’t fancy.’
‘You’ve never had an anger shag?’
She nearly turned to him then. ‘A what?’
‘I was angry with you. I was doing anything I could to get you out of my head. You’re in my head, Zoë. I can’t get you out. I wish I could, but I can’t.’
‘Sorry I’m not more impressed.’ She shook her head. Her neck was stiff and painful. As if she had a fever. ‘It’s just if I was fixated on someone the last thing I could do is sleep with someone else.’
‘Well, I’m a man and you’re a woman. So maybe you wouldn’t understand. And how the hell would you know what you could and couldn’t do? You’ve never been fixated on anyone in your life.’
She was silent, her teeth clenched so tight she thought they might crack. ‘Have you finished now?’ she murmured eventually.
‘Look at me, Zoë.’ He sat down opposite her.
She twisted her head further away, bent it slightly and pretended to be scratching her scalp.
‘Just look at me. Is that so difficult? Come on.’ He reached out and took her arm. She snatched it away, but he leaned forward and grabbed it again, this time brushing against the sunglasses, knocking them slightly. She fumbled up her free hand to push them back on, but he’d already seen. He sat back on the chair, the air knocked out of him. ‘Jesus. What the hell?’
‘Shit, Ben.’ She sat with her head lowered, pressing the glasses against her face. ‘I mean, shit, I asked you not to come in.’
‘What the fuck happened to you?’
‘It doesn’t matter. Really – it doesn’t matter.’
He slammed his hands on the table and stood up so he was towering above her. ‘Yes, it does matter, Zoë. It does matter. I am allowed to give a toss about you. Handcuff me, read me my rights, but I do.’
She could feel herself trembling – could feel a cold, hard ball of something ease its way into her throat. ‘There’s no need to be like that,’ she said evenly.
‘Just tell me. Who did it? Where did you report it?’
‘I haven’t,’ she mumbled.
‘What?’
‘I said I haven’t reported it. OK?’ She sat back a bit, rubbing her arms, embarrassed. She was going to end up crying again if she wasn’t careful. ‘And I’m not going to. I keep saying it doesn’t matter. Please leave it.’
Ben was silent for a long time. Then he pulled his phone out of his pocket. ‘I’m going to report it.’ He was jabbing in a number. ‘Whoever did that needs to be spoken to.’
‘No.’ She made a lunge for the phone, throwing herself across the table.
He twisted away, holding it out of her reach. ‘Then tell me who did it. Or I report it.’
‘Please, Ben.’ She was definitely going to cry now. ‘Jesus. Just – please.’ She pushed her chair back with a squeal and stood up. Everything was spiralling away, getting out of control. ‘Just please, please—’
‘Please what?’
‘Just please don’t,’ she begged. ‘Don’t call anyone.’
37
Sally felt like a wire stretched to its limit. She was shaking with tension and her jaw kept clicking as she drove, as if she was cold. The dark clouds had got even lower and were leaching a fine, almost invisible drizzle, but the lights were on in the windows when she arrived at the school, fighting the oncoming gloom. It looked so homely, the school, so normal that her throat tightened. That normality – the simple, unremarkable