Académique Documents
Professionnel Documents
Culture Documents
indd 3
02/04/2015 16:02
HarperCollinsPublishers
1 London Bridge Street,
London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
Published by HarperCollinsPublishers 2015
Copyright Jonathan Freedland 2015
Jonathan Freedland asserts the moral right to
be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library
ISBN: 978-0-00-741368-3
This novel is entirely a work of fiction.
The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are
the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is
entirely coincidental.
Typset in Sabon by Palimpsest Book Production Limited,
Falkirk, Stirlingshire
Printed and bound in Great Britain by
Clays Ltd, St Ives plc
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be
reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted,
in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical,
photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior
permission of the publishers.
278KK_tx.indd 4
02/04/2015 16:02
Chapter 8
The phone had been buzzing all day and was buzzing again
now, vibrating its way across her desk. Maddy glanced down
at the screen and decided she would treat this the same way
as the rest, that she would not pick up.
She had ignored Weibo altogether, or rather she had
avoided the continuous flow of messages directed at her. She
did not want to read words of condolence, no matter how
touching or heartfelt. She had, however, taken a look at
Abigails timeline: so far it consisted of tributes and declar
ations of shock many of them addressed to Abigail herself.
She skimmed her sisters Facebook page too, filling up with
messages in a similar vein. But for herself, she wanted none
of it.
She had made two exceptions. The first was a call from
Katharine, saying that Enrica was on her way over with a vat
of soup and that she would not take no for an answer. At
that moment, Enrica had grabbed the phone, proving she was
not in fact on the way, and said, Darling, dont even talk to
me. Just let me into the kitchen. Ill be silent, Ill be invisible.
But you have to eat. Maddy had conceded, but just hearing
her bereaved friends voice had apparently proved too much
for Enrica. She sent something like a howl down the phone,
63
278KK_tx.indd 63
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 64
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 65
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 66
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 67
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 68
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 69
02/04/2015 16:02
70
278KK_tx.indd 70
02/04/2015 16:02
Chapter 10
She was driving south on the 5 when she realized she didnt
know what day it was. She had been in such a blur since that
phone call, she had lost track of time. For most insomniacs
that sensation, at least, was not so unusual. When you have
no nights, it can be hard to keep a grip on the days.
But in LA, as she had learned through direct experience, it
could be costly. Get caught driving on, say, a Thursday in a
No Thursday vehicle and youd get more than a lecture about
smog and pollution from the Highway Patrol. They could
revoke your licence on the spot. You had the right to appeal,
but while you did you were off the road. Appealing was all
but pointless anyway. There was no case you could make,
short of a life-and-death medical emergency and even then
the court would ask why you didnt get a taxi or hitch a ride.
Keeping the smog out of southern California was a state
priority. Everyone mocked it, but the slogan that launched
the scheme was now engraved into the Californian collective
memory. School kids could sing the jingle even now: Everyone
can drive sometime when no one drives always.
She had to work her way back to getting kicked out of the
sweatshop, reconstructing the sequence event by dreadful
event, before she realized with relief that today was still
76
278KK_tx.indd 76
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 77
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 78
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 79
02/04/2015 16:02
this scene, from the back. She would be there, at the front:
she, Quincy and her mother, the mourners. Quincy would
doubtless demand one of them do what this man was doing
right now: deliver a eulogy at the wake, offering a few words
about the life of Abigail. She realized her eyes were stinging,
but the tears did not come.
He stopped speaking now, held in a long, silent embrace
by his father. The mother was hugging the aunts who were
hugging her back. The rest were shuffling on the spot, uncertain where to put themselves, waiting for a moment to speak
to the family.
Maddy held back, examining more of the photographs on
the walls, trying to work out how each of those she could
see here related to each other. Eventually she found herself
next to the brother. She extended a hand.
He took it, showing her a puzzled brow. Are you one of
Rosarios friends?
No, Im not. Though I wish I was. She sounds like a great
person.
She was.
Im here because I lost my sister too.
OK. Um, Im sorry.
It just happened actually. In quite similar circumstances to
Rosar She stopped herself. To your sister. Is there somewhere we can talk?
He led her first into the kitchen, but that was packed even
more tightly than the living room. The hallways were jammed
too. Finally, he ushered her out back, into a tiny concrete
yard. There was no option but to stand close together, their
faces near. He introduced himself as Mario Padilla. She said
her name was Madison Webb.
Hold on a second, I know that name. He checked his
phone, scrolling down, as if looking for something.
Is there something wrong?
80
278KK_tx.indd 80
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 81
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 82
02/04/2015 16:02
278KK_tx.indd 83
02/04/2015 16:02
seconds it would take to get to her room? Or even the bathroom? The only reason itd be out here, is someone followed
her home, followed her into the house, did this thing to her
and that someone didnt want to get caught.
Maddy paused, looked back towards the front door, as
if taking in what Mario had just said. And did she look
as if she had been ... hurt in any way?
Thats it, you see. Police said there was no sign of a
struggle. Couple of scratches here and there, but they said
she could have got those anywhere.
Maddy girded herself for what she was about to ask. Did
the police suspect anything else had happened to your sister?
She let the question hang in the air, the weight on the words
anything else.
His head sunk onto his chest. No. Im grateful for that.
No. He looked up, his eyes conveying a question.
No, Maddy replied. Nothing like that either . . . All right,
she said finally. Thank you for telling me all this. It sounds
like weve suffered something very similar.
Tell me, Miss Webb. Do you think the person who killed
Rosario killed your sister? Is that what youre saying?
I dont know. He looked at her with great need, an expression she recognized. It was the face she had seen in the mirror
a matter of hours ago, her own need for answers reflected
back at her.
He showed her out, leading her to the front door. You
should have a mask on, he said.
She wheeled around, feeling very suddenly exposed. Had
her emotions been that obvious, written all over her face?
For the smog. I told Rosario that all the time. You gotta
wear a mask when its like this. He paused, staring into the
street, ignoring the couple touching him on the shoulder by
way of a goodbye as they left the wake. I was worried about
her.
And then, as if remembering himself, he reached into his
84
278KK_tx.indd 84
02/04/2015 16:02
85
278KK_tx.indd 85
02/04/2015 16:02