By the time Leighton had been released from the police station, it was gone ten o’clock in the evening. His house keys were returned to him, separated from the car keys that had been given to the forensics department. The spare change he’d had in his pocket was also returned. The police kept his phone. He racked his brains for what might have still been on there, or what they might be able to find when they looked into its history. The police had ways of retrieving deleted messages and information, but he had been careful: he’d never given Leah his personal number but had used a pay-as-you-go mobile on which she was able to contact him. There was nothing to be found on what they had.

Melissa was in the reception area waiting for him. She looked tired, but mostly she looked angry. Her eyes bore evidence of tears, though she had reapplied her make-up in an attempt to conceal their aftermath. Her strength had once been one of the things Leighton had admired about her. She didn’t give in to anything. She wore a mask even on her toughest days and found a way around every obstacle thrown in her path. There had once been something attractive in her resilience.

Now he wondered. Was it a mask, or was she simply in denial? Had she stood by him because she was a strong woman, or because she was inherently weak? Either way, he knew he had long ago stopped deserving her forgiveness.

She refused to meet his eye as they left the building, and they walked to the car park in silence, both lost in their own thoughts. She unlocked her Mini convertible and got into the driver’s side. Leighton got in beside her, resentful of the silence. He might almost have preferred her anger visible, he thought, as he’d seen it back in the days when she had screamed, fought, retaliated. This silence was the worst form of treatment; unbearable.

‘Have you been charged?’ she eventually asked, five minutes into their journey home.

‘No. Not yet. I’ve been released on police bail.’

‘Meaning what exactly?’

‘Meaning I’m still under investigation.’

‘They interviewed me.’

‘What did you tell them?’

‘The truth.’

Leighton nodded and turned his head to the window. ‘They’re going to ask again. When they do, tell them—’

‘I get it,’ she said, cutting his sentence short. ‘You’re going to do the right thing … for once in your sorry little life.’

---

That night, Leighton slept in the spare bedroom. Melissa had gone to bed as soon as they’d got back to the house, their conversation having ended abruptly in the car on their journey home. He hadn’t tried to resurrect it. She knew what had happened. The rest of his truths would have to come out now, but for tonight they could wait. He wasn’t yet sure how he was going to break it to her.

He had retrieved the pay-as-you-go phone from the cupboard in the office and taken it upstairs to bed with him. He passed his bedroom, where he could hear Melissa crying. The thought of going in and attempting to console her barely crossed his mind; he had tried that before and it had never been welcomed. More often than not it had resulted in a blazing row, one of which had only been ended when the neighbour came over to complain about the noise.

Their younger daughter, Olivia, was in bed; there was no sound from her room. He wondered how much she knew about what was going on. She was sixteen and they barely saw her these days – he barely saw either of his daughters; when she wasn’t in her bedroom, she was at her boyfriend’s house. Her AS level exams had finished a couple of weeks earlier, though she’d barely spoken about them to either of her parents. Perhaps he should have taken more interest, but like everything else, it was now too late.

He turned the phone on and pressed the sound off. There were five missed calls and four messages, all from Leah.

Where are you? I need to speak to you.

Call me when you get this.

Was it you?

I need to speak with you. Please call me.

He stared at the messages, wondering where his life had gone so wrong. Of course he knew the answer to that, but fooling himself that there was still someone else to blame was an attempt to shield himself from the effects of all the damage he’d done. It didn’t work. This was his fault, all of it.

He remembered the night he had met her, all those years ago. She had been young and beautiful and exciting; all the things his life had been missing at the time. He’d had so much responsibility at such a young age, and he wasn’t ready for any of it. He knew it was a pathetic excuse, but it was the only one he had. He’d seen something he wanted. He’d taken it.

It had become a habit he’d never quite been able to break.

The screen lit up, the name Sean flashing up at him in the darkness. It was her. He had stored her number under a different name – the name of one of his colleagues at the university – in case Melissa ever found the phone.

He ignored it. It didn’t matter what she did now; she had caused enough damage. There was nothing more she could do.

The call ended, but the phone lit up again within moments. Then again. And again. A message came through. I’m outside.

Leighton sat up in bed. He didn’t doubt for a moment she was telling the truth; the girl was crazy enough. He pushed open the door to the spare room and stepped out onto the landing. There was silence from his bedroom; Melissa would be asleep by now. He eased his way down the stairs, taking two at a time.

Another message came through. If you don’t come out now, I swear to God I’ll scream the place down and tell her everything.

He went into the living room and pushed the closed curtain to one side. His stomach flipped at the sight of her standing on the driveway looking up at the bedroom window. He dropped the curtain and tried to catch his breath. An involuntary image appeared in his mind: his hands closed around her neck, squeezing the life from her; making her finally go away, for good this time.

If he went out there, he was sure he would end up killing her.

He went to the kitchen and left the house through the back door, walking down the side of the building to meet her on the driveway.

‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’ he hissed.

‘We need to talk.’

There was little time in which to consider his options, and a mere moment was sufficient time to realise he didn’t have any. Melissa was going to find out the truth soon enough anyway, but he didn’t want it to be that night. Not like this. He grabbed Leah by the arm, his fingers pressing into her skin.

‘You’d better let go of me,’ she said, her warning slick and assured.

He dropped her arm, his eyes narrowing. ‘I’ll talk to you,’ he said, ‘but not here. Follow me.’

She followed him down the path that ran alongside the house and into the garden. Leighton crossed the lawn, heading for the summer house at the end. He opened it and ushered her inside, closing the door behind him.

‘It’s over,’ he said, before she had a chance to speak. ‘I’ve told the police who you are.’