The Last Girl (57 page)

I didn’t want to burn.

I stepped a little closer, testing the floor with my toe before I risked putting my weight on it. The floor was wooden boards, pitted with holes and dry as dust. The whole place would go up in a heartbeat if she did. Old straw. Old wood. A breeze through the open door funnelling air up to the damaged roof, making a natural chimney for a flame that would burn until there was no fuel left at all, until there was nothing but ash. They would find our bones, though. It was surprisingly hard to burn human bodies until they disintegrated.

The petrol can slipped out of her hand and clattered on the floor, something that surprised her as much as me.

Derwent started forward instinctively then stopped with his hands up as she lifted her clenched fist in warning.

‘Lydia, it’s all right. I know you got a fright, but it was just the can.’

‘It was empty.’ The first words I had heard her say so far, and her voice was dead.

‘Give me the lighter, Lydia. You don’t need it. That’s not the way to go.’ He took another step towards her.

‘Stay where you are.’ She pointed a shaking finger at him. ‘Don’t come close to me.’

‘It’s all right.’

‘It’s
not
all right. It’s
never
going to be all right.’ She had sounded like a teenager on the phone that morning, giggling about her plans for the day, but now she sounded like a child. Her voice was high-pitched and mournful and somehow distant, as if she had gone to a different place already, somewhere that we couldn’t reach her.

If I stretched out my hand, I could touch her arm.

I didn’t know what to do.

‘Tell us what happened this morning,’ Derwent commanded.

A sob and she shook her head over and over, sending a fine spray of petrol over me. I shuddered a little, not liking it, wanting to tear off my top and wipe my skin. It was the worst way to die, I’d heard. Painful beyond belief, and that was if you died quickly. People died weeks later, sometimes, after unimaginable agony. People lived with terrible scarring. I tried not to think about it. She was just holding the lighter in her fist, and loosely. She had dropped the can. She was weak. I was quick and strong, and I had the advantage of surprise.

I looked at Derwent, and saw him change his stance a little, ready to move. I looked at Lydia’s hand again. I was almost sure it would be all right.

Almost.

I don’t know if I could have done it if I hadn’t heard
sounds
from outside, heard the cavalry turning up at the wrong bloody moment. If they crashed in, she would turn around and see me, and she would be angry. Angry enough to burn? I didn’t want to test it out.

I grabbed her wrist like I was pinning down a poisonous snake and held on for dear life, trying to peel her fingers away from the lighter with the other hand. A second later Derwent’s arms were around hers, pinning them to her sides so she couldn’t fight me off. Her hand tightened around the lighter instinctively but it was small, and slippery, and as we struggled it slid out of her grasp and on to the floor. I kicked at it without thinking and sent it skittering away into the shadows by the door.

‘Careful,’ Derwent said sharply. ‘Don’t do that again.’

‘Sorry. I was just trying to get it away.’

‘It could have exploded when it fell on the floor, and then you kick it? Christ.’ This was all over the top of Lydia’s head; the girl was limp in Derwent’s arms. She was crying hard, her body shaking with each sob that tore out of her.

‘It’s all right. It’s going to be all right.’ Derwent smoothed her hair with a hand he had got free somehow.

‘It’s not. You don’t know what I’ve done.’

‘We know, Lydia. We were in the house.’

‘And so was I.’ Her father had a particularly resonant voice – years of practice at being heard in large rooms – and he delivered his line like a Shakespearean actor giving his all to his very last performance. ‘What are you doing, Lydia? What were you trying to do?’

‘Daddy?’ She had twisted in Derwent’s arms to see him. He was standing beside Godley and Liv, with Dornton behind them, all with matching expressions of shock on their faces. I couldn’t think about how we looked. Terrified, probably. There was no colour at all in Derwent’s cheeks.

‘Let’s not worry about that now.’ Godley put his hand
on
Kennford’s arm. ‘Let’s think about that later. The first thing is Lydia’s safety.’

‘The first thing is to find out what happened, surely.’ He looked back at his daughter. ‘Why did you do it, Lydia? What was the reason? You must have had a reason.’

She was crying again. She turned her face into Derwent’s neck and stayed there, her head on his shoulder, as if she was too weak to hold it up. He held on to her hair, shushing her. To Kennford, he said, ‘Drop it. Now’s not the time. We’ll find out later.’

‘I want to comfort her.’ Kennford stepped forward. ‘She’s my daughter.’

‘And you’ve never behaved like her father,’ Derwent hissed. He was still gripping her tightly, but it was to support her, not restrain her.

‘I’m still her father, for all that. She’s my daughter, whatever she’s done.’ Kennford sounded like he was on the edge of hysteria. ‘I love her. I might not have been the best at showing it, but I do love her. For all her faults, she’s all I’ve got left, and I’m not going to abandon her now.’

‘What did you say?’ Zoe was standing behind the group in the doorway, her eyes wide. She had bags from the supermarket in one hand; her car keys were in the other. ‘What’s happened?’

I went forward, my hand out to her. ‘Zoe, there’s some bad news, I’m afraid.’

‘What did he say?’ She switched her focus to Kennford again. ‘What was it? Who is all you’ve got left?’

He gestured in Lydia’s direction and Zoe saw her. She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God. What are you doing?’

‘You should ask her what she’s done.’ Kennford’s voice was rough. ‘Then you’ll understand.’

‘I don’t – why––’ She looked around at us. ‘I thought – do I smell
petrol
?’

‘Lydia tried to kill herself.’ Derwent, cutting to the chase as usual. ‘We stopped her in time.’

‘You tried to burn yourself?’ She glanced down and saw the lighter beside her foot. ‘Using this?’

‘She’s been disarmed.’ Derwent sounded almost cheerful. ‘Nothing to worry about. She’s safe now.’ He gave her a little shake. ‘You’re safe now.’

‘Zoe, I need to tell you what’s happened.’ I put my hand on her arm, which was stiff. ‘It’s Savannah. I’m so sorry.’

She wasn’t looking at me. She was staring at Lydia. I didn’t even know if she’d heard me. I tried again. ‘Savannah’s dead, Zoe.’

Lydia twisted in Derwent’s arms. ‘She knows.’

I felt the tremor go through Zoe. Shock.

‘What do you mean?’

‘She was there.’

Zoe started to shake her head. ‘No, Lydia. That’s not true.’ To me, she said, ‘I don’t know why she would lie. Unless she’s trying to blame me.’

‘Blame you? I don’t think––’

‘What did you do?’ Zoe demanded, ignoring me again. ‘What did you do?’

‘You know what.’ Lydia’s face was contorted as the tears began again.

‘Do you think you could tell us about it?’ I said gently. ‘Take your time.’

Derwent put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Come on. You’ll feel better if you spill the beans.’

In the high childish voice she’d used before, Lydia said, ‘Everything was lovely this morning. We were having fun. Then I was in my room and Zoe came and got me. She said she’d lied to the police because Savannah asked her to. She said Savannah killed Mum and Laura. She told me I had to get revenge for them. I owed it to them. She said Laura would have done it if she’d lived and I’d died.’

Zoe took a step towards Lydia and I put my hand out to stop her. I was distracted by Lydia’s story but I had
enough
awareness of what Zoe was doing to notice her bending down. I looked back as she straightened up.

And the lighter wasn’t on the floor any more.

I didn’t even think as I stepped forward; I certainly didn’t hesitate. I smacked her hand as she lifted it, as hard as I could, hitting it underneath so the lighter flew up, and over her shoulder, and out into the open air. It spun and disappeared into the grass. I heard Derwent swear; I was aware of an exclamation from Philip Kennford and of Ben Dornton going outside to retrieve it.

‘What the hell did you think you were going to achieve?’ I demanded.

‘I wasn’t going to do anything.’ Zoe glared at me. ‘You overreacted.’

‘You panicked. You didn’t want Lydia to say what she’s about to say.’ I turned back to the girl. ‘Go on, Lydia. Tell us what happened.’

Lydia had closed her eyes tightly, and kept them closed as she went on. I wasn’t even sure she’d noticed the interruption.

‘She took me into the room and she showed me where to put the knife, but I couldn’t do it, so she stuck it in first and then made me do it too. I thought Savannah would wake up, but she didn’t. She just died. Zoe went and showered, and got changed, but I just stayed with Savannah. I thought I should have hated her, but I couldn’t. She was so nice to me. I couldn’t understand how she could have killed them, but I didn’t know what else to believe.’

Kennford said something under his breath, something I didn’t quite hear. His face was sheet-white.

‘Then Zoe said I had done the right thing, but no one else would understand and she would get the blame if they knew she’d been here. She said I was to say Savannah confessed everything last night. Then I took the opportunity to kill her today, while she was asleep. And then Zoe hugged me and she left.’

‘Why did you try to kill yourself?’ Derwent asked gently.

‘I was scared of going to prison. I was so sad about Savannah, too.’ She covered her face. ‘I wasn’t any better than her once I’d killed her. I’d seen the petrol in the garage, and I knew there was a lighter in the kitchen. I got it, and then took the petrol and came in here. I was ready to do it, but I wasn’t brave enough.’ The high-pitched voice broke and faltered. ‘I wanted to be a sacrifice. I wanted to make everything right again. But I couldn’t do it.’

‘This is total rubbish.’ Zoe’s voice was strained and shockingly loud after Lydia’s quavering recitation. ‘You can’t possibly believe it. She’s murdered her family, she’s killed my girlfriend and now she’s trying to frame me. Look at her. She’s crazy.’

I did look at Lydia, whose teeth were chattering. Her hair was tangled around her face and her eyes were wild. I had included her in my list of possible suspects but I’d never truly believed she was capable of murder. Now I wasn’t so sure.

‘It’s time to tell the truth, Lydia.’ Her father sounded stern. ‘Not another story.’

‘I am telling the truth.’ It lacked conviction, and over her head Derwent’s eyes were grim.

Zoe put her hands up to her face. ‘I don’t believe Savannah’s gone. How can she be gone?’

‘So you weren’t there,’ Godley said. ‘Lydia’s lying.’

‘Of course I wasn’t.’ She took her hands down and glowered at me again, her eyelashes stuck together with unshed tears. ‘I didn’t know about any of this until I came back. I can’t believe you’re even willing to consider I might have been involved.’

I was still holding on to her arm. ‘Look, we need to investigate it properly. Examine the evidence.’

‘It’ll show that she killed her and I wasn’t there.’ Zoe
was
trembling. ‘This is a nightmare. How could this have happened?’

‘Stop
lying
,’ Lydia shouted. ‘Tell them I haven’t made any of it up. Tell them!’

Zoe shook her head. ‘It’s a fabrication. It’s insane. She’s insane. I knew we shouldn’t have taken her in.’ She looked at Philip Kennford pleadingly. ‘I know she’s your daughter but you can’t take what she says at face value. She’s trying to frame me. She’s evil.’

‘No,’ Lydia said, her voice raw. ‘No.’

Zoe spread out her hands. ‘Why would I want to kill Savannah? Why would I even think of it? It doesn’t make any sense.’

And my phone rang. I caught Liv’s eye and she came forward to take my place by Zoe’s side as I stepped away. I took two deep breaths of air that was free of petrol vapour once I got out of the barn, as I hooked my phone out of my pocket.

‘Kerrigan.’

‘It’s Colin Vale.’ I’d have recognised my colleague’s nasal voice straightaway, but he was the sort to introduce himself; I was lucky he hadn’t given his rank and badge number too. ‘Your DNA results from the Kennford case have come back from forensics and we’ve got a match on the system.’

I felt my heart jump. ‘Go on. Does it come back to Savannah Wentworth?’

‘Nope. Hannah Clarke, who would now be … let me see … aged twenty-six.’

‘Who?’ I shook my head, baffled. ‘I have no idea who that is.’

‘She has convictions for shoplifting, theft, that kind of thing. Mainly from a few years ago.’

‘Is there a description?’ I listened as he ran through it. It was from a few years before; it would be out of date now. ‘Any distinguishing marks? Scars?’

‘Upper left arm, there’s an inch-long scar in the shape of a teardrop.’