The Confession - Charles Todd [128]
Rutledge expected Fowler to refuse. And then he changed his mind, almost against his will, a part of him needing relief from the burden he’d carried too long.
Finally, to Rutledge’s surprise, he said, “Where?”
Russell was in his flat. And Frances was at the house. “Let me take you to Miss Farraday’s house. It isn’t public. You can leave anytime you like.”
“No. Anywhere but there.”
“Then name a place.”
“There’s a pub some distance from here.”
“Too public.”
“I expect you’re right.”
“My motorcar is not far from the Yard. We can sit in it.”
Fowler considered the risks and finally said, “Yes, all right. But I need another guarantee, that you won’t ask the name I now live under.”
“Very well.”
Hamish was already questioning whether Fowler would make it that far. Before they reached the motorcar there would be a dozen opportunities to disappear.
But the man followed without a word, and under the brighter lamps by Trafalgar Square, Rutledge could see his haggard face and haunted eyes.
Before they reached the motorcar, Fowler said, “How did I betray myself?”
“You weren’t shocked when I told you about the murders of your parents. No one else knew. Mrs. Russell had kept it a secret from the other two children. It wasn’t likely she would confide in her driver. And you said, ‘He’s killed all of us.’ Not all of them.”
Fowler swore softly. “I thought I could carry it off.”
They reached the motorcar, and when Fowler stepped in and shut the door, he put his head back against the seat. “I’m so very tired,” he said, his eyes closed. “I thought it would never end.”
“Where did you start lying?” Rutledge asked after giving him some time to collect himself.
“It’s true. Most of what I told you. Only it was I who arrived early that morning to find Finley dying down by the water’s edge. He’d been shot in the back of the head. I wasn’t sure what he said to me—it could just as well have been a gurgle of pain. But it sounded very much like brother. I didn’t know if Finley had any brothers. And then I remembered that Wyatt had been a little jealous of me. We were the same height and build, Harold and I. A split second later, I knew.”
“Knew what?”
“There’s something I never told anyone. Not even Mrs. Russell or the police. While I was in hospital recovering from the stab wounds, there were messages from my parents’ friends, our neighbors, clients, general well-wishers. All of it very kind. The police and my solicitors opened them at first, to be sure they wouldn’t be upsetting. After the first weeks, realizing that the messages were actually comforting, they just let me open them as they arrived. A week before I was released, there was one with just two lines on the page.” He stopped, trying to steady his voice.
“What did it say?”
A constable came toward the motorcar, and Fowler tensed. But the man walked on by and went inside the Yard.
“ ‘He was my father and the woman with him was a whore, and you’re my bastard half-brother. I’m not finished. Wherever you are, I will find you.’ ”
“No signature?”
“Nothing. I knew one day he’d come for me. That it was only a matter of time. And so I stayed close to River’s Edge. But I never expected him to attack the others. By the time Aunt Elizabeth went missing, I’d been to Cambridge, and I’d convinced myself that it had been a vicious prank by someone, because you see, nothing ever happened. It had been an empty threat from the start. A hoax that had haunted me, shaped my life. I didn’t want to believe he’d killed Aunt Elizabeth.”
“Go back to the day you found Finley’s body.”
“I did the unthinkable. I stripped Finley, put my uniform on his body, and shoved him into the river. I expected him to float down to where the fishermen would find him and report me dead. I started walking, and I didn’t stop until I was too exhausted to go any farther. That’s why I realized I couldn’t return to France when my leave ended. If I did, I’d have to explain about Finley