Page 37 of What Have You Done?

He thought it had gone relatively well with the detectives the day before. He’d handled it well. Still, they’d asked him for an alibi, and he hadn’t been able to provide one. Will that be the end of it? That really depends on Kelly, he thinks now.

He’s been such an idiot. He didn’t seem to be able to help himself. The glances, the casual touches – he got pleasure out of it. He didn’t think anyone noticed. And once he started, he didn’t know when to stop.

He’s always enjoyed looking at girls. At their young, developing bodies. It’s one of the reasons he became a gym teacher. He likes their long, coltish legs and their swinging ponytails. He likes to watch them in shorts and skimpy tees bending and twisting and stretching. He likes to imagine them in the locker room – especially that. He likes watching the way they develop over the course of a year. When he coaches them, he likes to lean in close and smell their skin, the musky sweat on them, like perfume. To pat them on the back when they’ve done something well. And then he stepped over the line with Diana. What a mistake that was.

Diana, especially, was a temptation, something to be resisted. He’d been fresh out of teachers’ college, and he noticed her right off, last year in September, when she was in eleventh grade. She was a natural athlete, and that appealed to him. She was beautiful, with her large eyes and lightly freckled skin, her long honey-coloured hair. She used to bend over and let her hair hang down as she gathered it up and put it into a ponytail before she started running. He’d stand behind her and stare at her in her running tights, watch the graceful movement as she flipped her head up again, ponytail swishing. God, she was something.

She caught him looking.

What is he going to do about Ellen? She knows something’s wrong. All his attempts to brush off her questions on the phone seem only to have made her more certain that something’s not right. She knows he’s upset about Diana’s death, but she doesn’t know the half of it. She might soon find out, and then where will he be? Will she stand by him?

She has to.

Riley and Evan arrive at Joe Prior’s building on the outskirts of Fairhill. They stare at the ugly low-rise in front of them.

Evan drives around behind the building. There are several parking spots in the lot, and some are empty. At the moment, there’s only one pickup truck in the parking lot.

Evan parks the car on the street and they get out. Riley looks around nervously before approaching the truck. There’s no one around. They both study the truck, looking in the windows, casting glances over their shoulders. They don’t even know if it’s the right truck, but Riley nervously takes some pictures of it with her cell phone, while Evan keeps watch. She doesn’t know what she expected to find – it’s not like he would have left any evidence on the back seat. But she had to look. What if the detectives couldn’t because they didn’t have enough to get a warrant? But there’s nothing remarkable here – a dusty hardhat, a high-visibility vest, and a newspaper on the passenger seat, a dirty coffee cup in the cup holder. This truck is similar to Cameron’s, which is also a black pickup. The hardhat makes it seem likely that the truck belongs to Prior, but they won’t know for certain unless he comes out of the building and gets into it.

‘Is something wrong?’ his wife asks when Graham Kelly comes back downstairs a few minutes after Brad Turner leaves. ‘Why was that teacher here?’

It’s on the tip of Graham’s tongue to deflect, to say that it was nothing, to make up some reason, but before he can marshal his thoughts there’s another knock on the front door.

‘Who the hell can that be?’ Sandra says, moving toward the door.

This is it, Kelly thinks. The police are here. What is he going to tell them?

But it’s not the police. It’s a reporter from KCVS News. He hears her introducing herself to Sandra at the door – I’m Jennifer Wiley, KCVS News – and he feels trapped. Reluctantly, he joins his wife. He’d already said all he was going to say to the press at the school on Friday. They’ve been leaving him alone since. He can’t avoid them for ever, but he’s annoyed that they’ve come to his home.

He recognizes her; she was at the school on Friday, after Diana’s body was discovered. As the principal of the high school, he’d made a statement and spoken to reporters about what a great loss it was to the school and their community, about how lovely Diana was, how much potential she had, and how important it was that they find whoever it was who did this terrible thing. He has nothing more to say. But now Jennifer Wiley looks at him and says, ‘Mr Kelly, I understand that Diana Brewer made allegations of inappropriate behaviour against one of your teachers, Brad Turner?’

For a moment he’s speechless. He can feel the heat rushing to his cheeks. Then he says tightly, ‘No comment,’ and closes the door in her face. He turns around and finds his wife looking at him with an expression of astonishment.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

ELLEN IS WAITING in her fiancé’s apartment. She tidies up while he’s out, washing the few dishes in the sink, wiping down the counters. She has stopped by without warning because she needs to talk to him. He wasn’t home, but she has her own key. She hasn’t seen Brad since Friday afternoon in the school parking lot. He’d wanted to be alone Friday night, missing their family dinner at the farm, and he’d put her off again yesterday and last night. Why is he avoiding her? What’s going on? She dumps out the worrying jam jar lid full of cigarette butts, puzzling over his odd behaviour. She feels uneasy, as if a storm’s about to break. Is he having second thoughts? Does he not want to go through with the wedding?

She couldn’t bear it if he got cold feet and called off the wedding. All the preparations are made, the invitations have gone out, the money has been spent, and her parents loaned them the down payment for the perfect little bungalow that is going to be theirs on the first of December. What do they do about that? She takes a deep breath and tries to stop her spiralling thoughts. She knows he loves her. She must soothe his nerves if that’s what this is. He comes from an unhappy home. Maybe it’s no wonder he might be anxious. He needs to learn to open up, to talk to her about these things. She can allay all his fears.

She hears the key in the lock and tenses. She often lets herself in, but she usually lets him know first, with a text. She didn’t text him this time because she fears he’s avoiding her. She’s not sure what to expect. She stands in the living room, facing the door.

The look on his face when he sees her – dismay, even panic – makes her heart sink. Things must be worse than she thought.

‘What are you doing here?’ he says, but he’s smiling now, the dismay, the panic, erased. He approaches and sweeps her into his arms so that she can’t see his face. She can feel his heart pounding against hers – it’s a two-storey flight of stairs up to the apartment, after all. They hold each other tight, and she nestles her face in the crook of his neck and breathes him in. Maybe everything is all right after all, and he’s just nervous about the wedding. He whispers her name into her hair, stroking the back of her head.

Finally, they break apart. She studies him. Despite the smile, he looks tense and avoids her eyes. Maybe it’s too soon to hope. She says, ‘Something’s wrong. What is it?’

He looks at her then as if he’s in pain. He runs a hand nervously through his thick, dark hair. He looks like he wants to tell her something, and her blood runs cold. But he doesn’t get the chance to speak because there’s a knock at his apartment door. They’re both startled and turn their faces toward the sound. No one rang the buzzer, but Ellen knows that people can get in the building if they follow someone in.

In a few strides Brad’s at the door and opens it. Ellen immediately recognizes the woman standing there: she’s a well-known reporter from KCVS News – Jennifer Wiley.

Brad takes in the sight of the reporter and wants to close his eyes. This can’t be happening. There can only be one reason why she’s here, and Ellen is standing right behind him. He feels his heart thudding in his chest, pounding in his ears. He feels like he can’t breathe, but it’s the strangest thing – when he speaks, he thinks he sounds almost normal.

‘Yes?’

She smiles, all warm and friendly. ‘Brad Turner?’ He nods. She introduces herself and says, ‘I’d like to talk to you about Diana Brewer, if that’s all right?’

He wants to slam the door in her face, but Ellen steps forward and says, ‘Come in,’ and he wants to kill her. Before he can think his way clear, the reporter is sitting down in his small living room with his fiancée, and Ellen is saying how awful it is about Diana, and how upset he’s been about it. She seems to be excited to be talking to a minor celebrity in these parts. This person who’s going to destroy him. He feels the most awful rage toward the two women in his living room. He can’t ask the reporter to leave now that Ellen’s invited her in – that would look suspicious. He tells himself to remain calm. What does she know? Maybe nothing. She can’t know anything for certain. And Diana is dead.

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