Second Life

No answer there either; his phone goes straight to voicemail. I guess he’s on a train behind me, with no reception. I leave a message, asking him to call me. I’m on my own.

I sit where I am. I concentrate on my breathing, on staying calm. I concentrate on not wanting a drink.

I try to work out why he’s doing it. Why he’s pretending to be my son’s girlfriend, why he’s luring him to Paris.

I think of the dogs. Largos86.

Finally my mind settles on the last truth it’s been avoiding.

Lukas is Co

The elements begin to slot into place. He must’ve befriended Kate, first, maybe A

And so he came after my son using the only other route open to him. Through me.

Why didn’t I see it? I think of all the times I’d suspected that there was more to our relationship than I knew, all the things I’d glimpsed, and then avoided.

I wonder what Lukas thought would happen. I wonder if he’d hoped I’d end my marriage to be with him, that we’d all become one big happy family.

I think back to those times. Kate, calling me. I want him back. He’s my son. You can’t keep him. I wish I’d never let you take him from me.

Now I know it was him. Lukas, telling her what to say. Lukas, who’d come back for his son. My son.

‘I want Co

Deep down, I know she’d still be alive if I hadn’t said no.

We reach Gare du Nord and I step off the train and get a taxi. It’s dark now, rain falls on the silvered streets of Paris as we glide towards the eleventh arrondissement. I’ve called Hugh and given him A

The screen shows that she’s online, available for a video chat. I press call and a few moments later a window opens on my screen. I can see A

‘Thank God. A

I freeze. She looks distressed, her eyes are wide, tinged with red. She looks terrified.

‘What’s wrong? Where’s Co

She leans in close to the screen. She’s been crying.

‘What’s happened? Where’s my son!’

‘He’s here,’ she says, but she’s shaking her head. ‘Ryan came back. He was angry—’

I interrupt. ‘But you had Co

‘No, no. Co

She looks numb, almost as if she’s been anaesthetized.

I think of the time with David, the incident in the car, the knife.

‘He was angry.’

‘That’s no excuse! A

She leans in, close to the machine. ‘I’m okay. Listen’ – she looks over her shoulder – ‘I haven’t got long. I need to tell you something. I have a gun.’

At first I think I’ve misheard her, but her face is grave. I realize I haven’t, and she’s serious.

‘What …? A gun? What d’you mean?’

She begins speaking quickly. ‘When Kate died … a friend of mine … he said he could get me one. For protection. And I said no, but …’

‘But what?’

‘But then, this stuff with Ryan. I was scared. I …’

‘You said yes.’

She nods. I wonder how it came to this, and whether there’s anything she’s not telling me about Ryan. About what he might’ve done already.

‘But …’ I say. ‘A gun?’

She doesn’t answer. I see her look over her shoulder. There’s been a noise, and then it comes again. A thudding.

‘Listen …’ She’s speaking quickly, whispering. I struggle to make out what she’s saying. ‘There’s something else. Hugh made me promise not to tell you, but I have to—’

‘Hugh?’ His name is the last I expected to hear.

‘—it’s about Kate. The guy. The one they found with the earring. It wasn’t him.’

I shake my head. No. No, this can’t be.

‘What do you mean, it wasn’t him?’

‘He had an alibi.’

‘Hugh would’ve told me. He wouldn’t let me go on thinking …’

The sentence peters out. Maybe he would. For the sake of peace.

‘I’m sorry, but it’s true. He said—’ There’s a noise at her end, loud. It sounds like a door slamming, a voice, though I can’t make out what’s being said.

‘I’ve got to go. He’s back.’

‘A

I never finish the sentence. Over her shoulder I see Lukas. He’s shouting, he looks furious. There’s a flash of something in his hand, but I can’t tell what it is. A

Yet I can hear what’s going on. I can hear him saying he’s going to kill her, and her, gasping, crying, saying ‘No!’, over and over. I call out her name, but it’s no use. I hear a thud, a body against the wall, or the floor. I’m unable to take my eyes off the screen. A

I stare at the screen. The room is quiet. Empty. And still there’s no sign of Co

Desperate, I end the call. In terrible French I ask the driver how long we’re likely to be, and he says five minutes, possibly fifteen. I’m frantic, every nerve hums with energy that won’t be contained. I want to open the car door, to leap out into the traffic, to run to our destination, but I know even if I could it would be no quicker. And so I sit back and will the traffic to clear, the cars to go faster.

I dial Hugh. Still no answer.

‘Fuck!’ I say, but there’s nothing I can do. After a while I begin to recognize the streets. I remember walking here, back in April. Consumed by grief, burning in a fire that I’d fooled myself into thinking I had managed to avoid. How simple things had been back then – all I had to do was get through it, survive the pain – yet I hadn’t even seen it.

Finally we arrive in A

I ask the driver to stop a few doors down from A

It’s Hugh. ‘I’ve just arrived in France. Where are you?’

‘At A

I tell him what I’ve seen, ask him to call the police.

‘A

‘Yes?’

I don’t want to ask him, but I know that I must.

‘The guy they arrested. What happened?’

‘What do you mean, what happened?’

Tell me the truth, I think. Tell me the truth, without me demanding it, and maybe we still have a chance.

‘You told me they charged him.’

He’s silent, and I know what A

I hear him cough. ‘I’m sorry.’

I don’t speak. I can hardly breathe, but I have to stay calm.

‘I thought I was doing the right thing. Julia?’

I tell myself everything will be fine. Hugh will call the police, they’ll be on their way soon. I try to tell myself that whatever he’s done, Lukas is Co