Here We Lie (21 page)

‘What is it, Emily?’ Jed points to the paper bag. ‘Is it something to do with that?’

I take a deep breath and hand him the bag. ‘This is fake Valium. At least I think it’s fake.’

Jed takes the bag. Bemused, he peers inside. ‘Where did you get these?’

God, this is so hard. ‘Er, d’you remember me telling you about my . . . my ex, Dan, the journalist who went to the States, from years back?’

‘Dan the reporter?’ Jed looks up, a wary expression on his face. ‘Yes. Why?’

‘Dan . . . he approached me the other day,’ I stammer. ‘He said he’d been investigating fake drugs and had heard about what happened to Dee Dee and he found out some
things about Lish and . . . and . . .’ I’m condensing the truth wildly here, but I need to get the information out and Jed is already looking completely appalled.

‘And
what
?’ he demands.

‘Dan said that Lish . . . that . . . at uni . . . he sells pharmaceuticals, fake ones, stolen ones . . . he’s not sure.’

Jed stares at me, the colour draining from his face. I’m suddenly, horribly, taken back to the morning we found Dee Dee, glassy-eyed and cold, and the look of horrified disbelief on
Jed’s face then.

‘What’s his evidence for this?’ Jed asks coldly.

‘He says Lish sold him the fake Valium. And he . . . he took this off him too.’ I hold up the little notebook. The cover feels clammy in my palm. Jed takes the book and flicks
through the pages, a bemused expression on his face. ‘It’s lists of Lish’s drug sales: what, who to, when delivered . . .’

Jed sits in silence for a few moments, his jaw grinding as he pores over the neat entries. ‘A journalist you used to go out with tells you my son is a drug dealer? And you automatically
believe him? No questions asked?’

I stare at Jed.
Oh God
. ‘Dan said he thought I might be in danger.’

‘What?
How?
’

‘One of the entries is for KCN, which is potassium cyanide. Jed, I’m so sorry but I think it’s possible that Lish poisoned Dee Dee by mistake, meaning it to be me.’

Jed’s mouth gapes.

‘You heard how hateful he sounded on Facebook and there was an anonymous text too and I’ve seen how he looks at me and now Dan says he bought drugs—’

‘Wait. Dan Thackeray told you this notebook and these drugs were from my son? That along with a few odd looks and comments they somehow add up to a belief that Lish wants to
kill
you?’ Jed’s eyes widen.

‘I know it sounds mad, but it makes sense if you—’

‘No, it
doesn’t
make sense. None of it.’ Jed blows out his breath, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. ‘
Dammit,
baby, you are
so
naïve. The
bastard just wants to set Lish up, probably as a way of getting to me:
privileged son of top London solicitor in drug scandal,
great story, well done Dan fucking Thackeray.’

I wince. ‘Dan’s admitted that he started out just wanting to find out about Lish, get a story on you having a drug-dealing son, but now he thinks maybe I really am in danger. When
you link the potassium cyanide to the way Lish loathes me—’

‘Stop.’ Jed jumps up and paces across the room. ‘Just fucking stop right there.’

I gulp. Jed’s fury is palpable, he’s literally shaking with it. He turns. Stops pacing. His eyes burn into me as he sits down. ‘Tell me again,
exactly
, what Dan
Thackeray has told you and what you’ve told him. Start from the beginning.’

Squirming under the ferocity of his glare, I explain how Dan sought me out in the car park and how I agreed to visit the student pub which Dan claimed Lish was dealing from.

‘You went all the way to Southampton with your fucking ex and you didn’t mention it?’ Jed’s voice rises. ‘What else did you do with him?’

‘Nothing.’ I can feel my cheeks reddening. No way am I admitting to my illicit ransacking of Lish’s student room, and the letter I found from Zoe. ‘This isn’t about
me and Dan, it’s about Lish. And the only reason I didn’t tell you before was that I didn’t want to worry you.’

‘What . . . about the fact that my son was into drug dealing? Or that you were having a day out with your fucking ex-boyfriend so he could shaft me by writing a story about it?’
Jed’s voice is like ice.

‘That’s not fair,’ I say, stung. ‘I didn’t know Dan wanted a story at first. He only told me that today
and
he promised he wouldn’t write one.
He’s given us the proof against Lish.’

‘These drugs and this notebook prove nothing, baby, except that Dan Thackeray tells lies and you are ridiculously gullible.’ Jed sighs. ‘I suppose he tried to fuck you while he
was at it?’

My cheeks burn, remembering the longing in Dan’s eyes earlier and how he said I still mattered to him. Rose’s warning echoes in my ears:
Dan Thackeray wants to get back in your
pants.

‘No, he didn’t,’ I say.

Jed snorts. I reach out my hand to him but he bats it away. I can’t work out whether he’s more angry that I’m accusing Lish of drug dealing and murder, or because I’ve
inadvertently helped a journalist research (or in Jed’s view, fabricate) a story about it or because I’ve seen an ex-boyfriend behind his back.

The last of these things is the one I latch onto, the one where I can at least offer Jed reassurance.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I saw Dan, but nothing happened between us.’ I hesitate. ‘If you think about it, I don’t necessarily know about every time you
see Zoe and she’s
your
ex.’

‘Zoe and I had children together, of course we still see each other. That’s completely different. Anyway, I
do
tell you if I’m seeing her.’ Jed looks at me,
contempt in his eyes. ‘Dammit, baby, how could you do this to me?’

I open my mouth to tell him, for the first time ever, not to call me ‘baby’, then I think better of it. Hard though it is, I should cut Jed a bit of slack – after all,
it’s only a few months since Dee Dee and he was almost in tears over her when he got in and here I am dropping a bombshell about Lish. It’s understandable that he is upset.

It has turned dark outside while we’ve been talking. As I get up to close the curtains Jed scrunches the top of the bag over. The paper rustles in the silence.

‘So what do you want to do now?’ I ask.

‘I’ll talk to Lish,’ Jed says. ‘I don’t believe these drugs or this notebook have anything to do with him.’

I turn around. ‘Shouldn’t we get the Valium tested at least? They have those specter-whatsits at the anti-fake and substandard drug organization where you went to that conference,
don’t they?’

‘You mean the spectrometer at the Campaign . . . at CASP? Yes, but . . .’ Jed stands up, the bag of drugs and the notebook in his hands. ‘But finding out if this is fake Valium
doesn’t prove Lish had anything to do with selling it, does it? In fact taking it to be tested would just be playing into Dan bloody Thackeray’s hands.’

‘But suppose Lish lies to you when you ask him about it?’ The words blurt out. ‘He sold drugs at school so—’

‘He never sold
anything
at school, he just had a little pot or whatever for his own use.’ Jed narrows his eyes. ‘Do you
really
think my son is capable of drug
dealing, let alone wanting to murder you? It’s ridiculous.’ He sits forward. ‘I need Thackeray’s number.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I want to make it clear to him that if he tries writing a story about my son I will sue him into next year.’

I gulp. ‘You don’t need to worry, I told you. Dan promised me he’d drop the story, that he’d let us decide what to do with the drugs.’

‘Did he?’ Mistrust darkens Jed’s eyes. ‘I’m not sure that’s enough of a guarantee for me. I want to talk to him, make sure.’

The memory of Dan’s face – and my telling him that I never want to see him again – flashes before my mind’s eye. ‘I . . . I don’t want to call him.’

‘For fuck’s sake, I don’t want you to call him either.
I’m
going to do it.’ Jed storms out to the hall.

I sit, frozen to the sofa. What a mess. I can hardly blame Jed for being angry, but how can he dismiss Dan’s claims so completely out of hand? Is he not in the slightest bit concerned that
Lish has been dealing? That he might have meant . . . still mean . . . me harm? That Dee Dee ended up the unwitting victim of his desire to hurt me? A second later I hear Jed rummaging through my
handbag. Then the beep of a phone.

I jump up. ‘What are you doing?’ I run out into the hall. Jed is standing, the paper bag of drugs in one hand, my phone in the other. He is hunched over the screen, scrolling through
the contact list.

‘Give that back!’ I demand.

‘Let me handle this.’ Jed doesn’t look around.

I launch myself at him, reaching for the mobile. Jed pushes me away. I stumble backwards and Jed bends over the phone again. I watch, helplessly, as he sends Dan’s details to his own
phone. I hear the trill as his mobile receives the message. Still clutching the paper bag, Jed puts down my phone, then picks up his own and heads into the kitchen.

We spend the rest of the evening apart. Jed is clearly still furious with me and I . . . well, I am not sure how I feel any more. Jed comes to bed late. I’m still awake, thoughts tumbling
over and over inside my head.

‘Did you speak to Lish?’ I ask.

‘He says it’s a fit-up,’ Jed says, not looking at me. ‘As I expected he would.’

‘What about Dan?’

‘Left a message telling him to back off Lish and stay away from you,’ Jed says curtly. He stalks off into the bathroom. When he returns he gets straight into bed and turns his back
to me.

I lie awake for an hour. Beside me, my phone – on silent – registers that Dan is calling. I don’t answer, then tiptoe downstairs to the kitchen to listen to Dan’s voice
mail. He sounds frantic.

‘Em, your fiancé called me, I think the message was left a couple of hours ago. He’s
furious.
Are you all right? I know you don’t want to talk to me, but
you’ve obviously told him what we found . . . he doesn’t sound like he believes
any
of it and I just need to know you’re okay. I’m worried.
Please
let me know
it’s just me he’s mad at and that you’re all right.’ There’s a short pause, then Dan continues, a tremor in his voice. ‘Everything I found out was true, Em.
True.
Not a set-up like Jed says. And I meant what I said, I had no idea how much it would mean to me when I saw you again. I’ve dropped the entire story because I don’t want to
make things difficult for you, because I care about you.’

I stand still, my phone in my hand, my feet cold on the kitchen floor. Instinct tells me Dan is telling the truth and I’m certain Jed is wrong to dismiss his claims. However, I’m
painfully aware that it would be stupid to trust everything Dan says. Whatever I do now, I do alone.

I sleep badly and wake as Jed disappears into the shower. For a single, blissful second I am just warm and comfortable in my bed. Then it all floods back: Dee Dee’s death, Zoe’s
desire to ‘stop’ me being with Jed, Lish’s links to pharmaceutical drugs, including the very poison that killed his sister. And Jed’s refusal to believe that there is any
connection between these things.

In that moment I realize what I have to do now: I must go to the CASP offices in central London. I will take the drugs and the notebook to them and, with them, turn everything over to the
police. Jed will hate it, but I don’t have a choice. His daughter deserves justice, even if the price of that justice is her brother’s freedom.

I hurry out of our bedroom, intent on looking inside Jed’s briefcase. It’s the only thing in the house that it’s possible to lock and I’m sure it’s where Jed will
have put the bag of drugs and the notebook. As I pass the bathroom I can hear water running. Good. If Jed’s still in the shower I should have at least ten minutes. I scurry downstairs. The
briefcase is in its usual position beside the sofa. As I expect, it is locked, but I know the four-number combination: the date and month of my birthday, 22 July. I fumble as I rotate the lock to
the correct numbers in turn: 2207. I open the lid. The inside is embossed with Jed’s initials: JEK for his full name, James Edward Kennedy. Jed’s files are loaded inside, along with his
tablet. There’s no sign of the drugs or the notebook. My fingers feel clammy against the leather as I close the lid and turn the numbers out of combination. Where has Jed hidden them? They
must be in the house somewhere.

‘What are you doing?’ Jed’s voice makes me jump.

I whip around, his briefcase still in my hand. Jed is in the living room doorway, a towel wrapped around his waist, water trickling from his damp hair.

‘Nothing,’ I lie, setting the briefcase down. ‘Just looking for my phone.’

‘On the counter by the toaster, charging?’ he says suspiciously. ‘Where it normally is overnight?’

I drift into the kitchen. My phone is, of course, exactly where Jed has suggested. I can see immediately that Dan has called again. I pick up the phone and quickly delete the voice mail.

Jed follows me into the kitchen. He makes a show of fetching a juice from the fridge then goes back upstairs to change for work. I tiptoe around the kitchen. Has he thrown the drugs and the
notebook in the bin? I rummage about. Nothing. I check all the cupboards, then go back to the living room and check underneath the TV stand, behind the bookcase and down the sides of the chairs and
sofa.

Still nothing.

I hear Jed on the stairs and dart into the hall.

‘Bye, darling,’ I say breezily.

‘Bye,’ Jed grunts, deliberately not looking at me as he leaves.

I wait until he drives off then hurry upstairs and explore our bedroom, checking carefully in the wardrobe and all the drawers. A similar investigation of the spare room and the study reveals
nothing.
Shit.
I get changed myself and wander back downstairs. Perhaps Jed has taken the drugs and the notebook with him in his jacket pocket. Or perhaps he put them in the car last
night.

I decide to give the living room and kitchen another going over. An hour later I’m on the verge of giving up when I finally find the drugs, still inside their paper bag, wedged between the
ironing board and a large box of washing powder at the very back of the utility room’s most crowded cupboard. There’s still no sign of the notebook but I don’t want to waste any
more time looking. The drugs in themselves along with everything else I know should be enough to open an investigation. Jed will surely be forced to hand over the notebook once the police are
asking questions.