As much as the thought filled me with nausea, I knew I had to call my parents. They were going to find out sooner or later, and better to save them the split-second agony of wondering whether it wastheirdaughter that had been carried away in a body bag.
It was a little after 7 a.m. Dad would just be waking up with a strong English breakfast tea and three slices of hot buttered toast, Harry the golden lab pottering around his feet.
Standing in the first-floor stairwell in Willowood – Alice was still talking to the police in our dorm – I folded one arm across my ribs, leaned back against the bannister and hit dial. Dad picked up the house phone after three rings.
‘Hello-o?’ His voice was morning-chipper, like cornflakes and radio jingles. I suddenly missed him ferociously.
‘Dad, hey. It’s me.’
‘Bumblebee? Wow, not like you to surface before nine.’ I heard Radio 2 being turned down in the background. Our lovely warm kitchen, where everything was safe. ‘To what do I owe this most enormous pleasure?’
I swallowed hard, the vague tang of bile at the back of my throat. ‘Another girl died.’
There was a long, rolling silence; so long I wondered if he’d been cut off. Then, ‘The North Tower?’
‘Yeah.’ My voice was small and sad.
‘Right. You’re coming home. I’m coming to get you.’ He was serious; there was the jangle of keys in his hand. ‘I’ll call Dave and let him know I won’t be on site today. Get everything packed up as best you can and I’ll –’
‘Dad, no,’ I interrupted. ‘I can’t. I want to stay.’
Looking back, this seems absurd. But again I felt the presence of that unearthly hand on my shoulder, coupled with a sudden, breathtakingneedto stay and solve the case. I needed to solve it more than I needed water or air. The thought of finding the killer sent a dark thrill rolling through me, and it was impossible to tell whether that thrill was excitement or fear.
A strangled sound. ‘Youwant-? I’m sorry, but no. I’m your dad, and I’m overruling you.’
‘What, you’re going to tie me up and kidnap me?’
‘Lottie! Why the hell would you want to stay there after . . . Who was she? Did you know her? Do they know what happened?’
‘I didn’t know her. And they’re not sure what happened yet.’
Dad’s tone grew low and urgent. ‘There’s something wrong with that place. You shouldn’t be there.’
I know, I wanted to scream. The ruby in my throat, the lassoed-stomach knots, the visions of another life, the cairn of dead bodies. The supernatural pulse that had lured me here to begin with. It was all so cruel and terrifying.
But you can’t leave, said something both inside and outside myself. Whether a thought or a threat, I wasn’t quite sure.
Furnishing my tone with a defiant tilt, I said, ‘You wouldn’t stop driving on a road just because there had been a few car crashes.’
‘Car crashes aren’tmurders, Lottie. Jesus. You’re young and beautiful and talented, just like Janie and the others. What’s to say it won’t be you next?’ He groaned viscerally. ‘Please. I can’t bear the thought of anything happening to you. It would destroy your mother and me.’
I closed my eyes and sighed. ‘I know.’
And I did. I thought of Janie’s parents at her funeral, the animalesque hysteria from her mum, the weeping stoicism from her dad. How could I risk doing that to my own family? I was their only child. I was Dad’s ‘kiddo’ and Mum’s ‘sweetheart’. Was I being selfish, staying here to investigate? The thought of home was like a warm comfort blanket. I could leave right now, leave all this behind, and let someone else bring Janie’s killer to justice.
Suddenly, as though sensing my wavering will, the ruby in my throat seared red hot – and then the roots wrapped around my windpipe, gripping so hard I choked. It loosened a moment later, but the meaning was clear: a warning from the North Tower.
Panic rose in my chest, filling my lungs like smoke I couldn’t breathe through.
I had to get away from this supernatural pulse. It would be uncomfortable, at first, like it was on the bus when my stomach churned and my vision blurred and I nearly fainted. But then the lasso would snap and I would be free, and I would be alive, and my parents wouldn’t have to go through the worst pain imaginable.
‘Okay, Dad,’ I said tightly. ‘I –’
The ruby’s roots seized my throat more fiercely, robbing me of my breath. I gagged silently, as though there were invisible hands wrapped around my neck.
The stairwell grew dark and spotty around me as stars danced across my eyes. I dropped the phone to the concrete ground and it skittered away.
I could die. I could die right now, and I would be powerless to stop it. My breathing was shallow and fast.