Olivia dozed for a bit and on waking took a few seconds before realising she was in Noah’s bed. She remembered that he had gone out, then recalled the video she had been sent from Howard Peck’s phone. Nerves and sickness immediately returned, along with the image of him tied to the tree as it caught fire.
Whoever had killed Gary and Howard was blaming her for their deaths and the guilt was weighing her down. She hadn’t liked either man, but that didn’t mean she wanted either of them dead. What the hell was she supposed to have done to result in them being so cruelly murdered?
Although she was still tired, her mind was restless and working overtime, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. Throwing back the duvet she climbed from the bed, shivering, though Noah had left the heating on. After showering, she rummaged through his chest of drawers, found a long-sleeved T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. They were both far too big for her, but they were warm and comfortable, and they smelt of him, or at least whatever washing detergent he regularly used.
Her phone pinged and she picked it up, saw he had messaged her to let her know Luna had been fed and was okay, and she smiled, grateful he had done that for her. Truth was she was a little bit nervy about returning home alone. It was different when Molly was there or when she was with Noah, but alone, the house felt too big, and every creak and shadow had her jumping. She hated that the place that was once her sanctuary now felt unsafe.
Downstairs she made coffee, peered inside his fridge, unsure if she was hungry or not. Her belly kept growling, but then a vision of Howard would come to mind and she would lose her hunger pangs. Instead she headed for the fruit bowl and ate a banana while she waited for the kettle to boil. Her coffee made, she went through to the living room with her phone, her plan to do a bit of investigating. Settling herself down in the corner of the oversized sofa, legs tucked beneath her, she logged into Facebook.
Her feed was full of decorated trees and posts about drunken antics at work parties, and it occurred to her that she still had most of her Christmas shopping left to do. She had started late November and would usually be finished by now, but with everything that had happened, it had slipped her mind. She really needed to get on with it, but couldn’t drum up the enthusiasm. Instead she pulled up Gary’s Facebook page, looked again at the friends who had commented most on his profile updates.
She needed a pen and paper, realised it would be easier to write everything down as she went.
Noah would have both in his office.
Although she had never been in there, she knew it was the room opposite the lounge. She went to open the door, but was surprised to find it locked. She tried the handle again, frowning. He lived here alone. Why would he need to lock the door to his office?
Unless he wants to keep me out. Olivia considered that possibility, not liking it one bit. If that was true, did that mean he didn’t trust her?
Unsettled, she went through to the kitchen, rooted through the drawers, finally finding a pen and some Post-it notes. They would have to do.
Still, as she gathered the names of Gary’s and Howard’s close friends, it niggled away at her that she had let Noah into every aspect of her life, yet he didn’t trust her alone in his house.
On a whim, as much to distract herself as anything, she looked up Malcolm Grimes to see if he had a Facebook account. There were a handful of men under that name, but none had a profile picture that resembled the boy she remembered. It could have been any of them or none of them.
She recalled Margaret telling her they had an older sister, though couldn’t remember the girl’s name. Annie or Abigail or something like that.
Instead she typed ‘Malcolm Grimes’ into Google, curious to see if anything came up.
The results that did were mostly old. It appeared Margaret’s twin brother had been in trouble with the police quite a bit during his late teens. The articles she clicked on mostly in local newspapers. There were no photos and, aside from a reference to the twins’ father, nothing about the family.
She was about to give up when a search result at the bottom of the page caught her attention. Malcolm Grimes had been arrested in connection with a fire when he was eighteen.
Olivia read the article, her heart in her mouth, as it reported how Malcolm had set a fire in the conservatory of the family home. Although the flames had taken hold, destroying part of the house, the fire brigade were able to get the blaze under control.
Malcolm Grimes had been at Black Dog Farm when his sister had died. Was he taking revenge against the students who had been on that trip?
The idea left her cold. She had been Margaret’s friend. Did Malcolm blame her for what had happened to his sister. Had he been responsible for what had happened to Gary and Howard?
She was still sitting on the sofa and pondering when Noah arrived back around lunchtime.
‘You okay?’ he asked as he sat down beside her, leaning in to kiss her on the mouth and she turned slightly so his lips instead brushed her cheek.
‘Fine.’
‘What are you up to?’
She tilted the Post-it note she had been writing on so he couldn’t read it. ‘Stuff.’
He gave her a measured look, didn’t push it. ‘I’m gonna put the kettle on. Do you want another coffee?’
‘Okay.’
She ignored him as he picked up her mug, though she was aware he paused in the doorway, looked ready to say something, then thought better of it.
Hearing him moving around the kitchen, turning taps on, opening cupboards, carrying on as if everything was fine, her temper snapped and she stomped through, trying her best not to trip over the bottoms of his sweatpants which were far too long for her.
‘Why is your office door locked?’
He glanced up. ‘What?’
‘Your office door. It’s locked. Do you not trust me?’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Of course I trust you, though why would you even need to go in my office?’
Ha. He was twisting it back on her. Well, it wasn’t going to work, because she had a valid reason. ‘I needed a pen and paper.’
‘Okay. Well you got those from in here.’
‘That’s not the point…’
He didn’t seem to be taking her particularly seriously, finishing making the coffee and peering into the fridge, as if she wasn’t even there.
‘Noah?’
‘What?’ He closed the door, looked at her, the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile, which only served to irritate her further.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘You are. Those sweatpants are drowning you.’
‘It’s not my fault your legs are so long! Can you please take me seriously for a minute?’
‘Of course.’
‘Why is your office door locked?’
‘Why are you so bothered about it being locked?’ he countered.
‘Because you live here alone. You have no reason to lock any doors unless you don’t trust me.’
‘You’re being ridiculous.’
‘Really? Because I have shared everything with you; my past, my scars… hell, I even trusted you to go into my house this morning and feed Luna.’
A flicker of something – was that guilt? – passed over his face, before his expression hardened. ‘I did that to help you, to keep you safe. I didn’t realise we were keeping a scorecard.’
‘We’re not, but you don’t trust me.’
‘I do bloody trust you, Liv.’
‘So why lock the door?’
He threw his hands up in exasperation. ‘Habit, I guess. I haven’t always lived here alone and there are confidential files in there. You’re really being irrational over this.’
Was she being irrational? Olivia wavered for a moment. She was tired, stressed and paranoid, her emotions all over the place. Maybe she was overreacting. It was Noah’s house, so it was totally up to him if he kept doors locked. She was coming across like a bit of a diva.
The fight went out of her. ‘You’re right, you’re right. I am being irrational. It’s this situation, I’m sorry. It’s your house. I have no right to make demands.’
Noah studied her for a moment before grabbing his keys up off of the counter. ‘Come on.’ He caught hold of her hand.
‘Come on where?’ He was already pulling her into the hallway, Olivia struggling in the sweatpants as she followed.
He paused outside the office door, twisted a key in the lock and pushed it open, nudging her inside. ‘There you go, just a regular office. Nothing really to see.’
It was a small room with a desk in front of the window and a couple of filing cabinets. A Mac was set up on the desk and shelves were filled with books. Like the rest of his house it was uncluttered, the furniture masculine. He was right: there was nothing really to see.
He placed his hands on her shoulders, eased her around and back out into the hallway, closing the door again. ‘Now you’ve seen inside. No secrets, okay?’
‘Okay.’ She returned the kiss he pressed against her lips, trying to ignore the nagging little voice in the back of her mind when she heard him twist the key in the lock again.
He’s still hiding something.
