Page 29 of Famous Last Words

‘What?’

‘That he loves you. You and Polly.’ He holds her gaze.

Cam can’t speak for a moment. ‘He said that.’

‘Yes.’

‘Only that.’ Cam can’t … She can’t understand this. Not at all. She’s choked up by it. She’s angry about it. She’s – lost. Just totally lost. What is he doing? What is he thinking?

‘That’s all he said.Tell my wife that I love her. Her and Polly.’ Niall removes his glasses, gets a pair of shades out of his pocket, and slides them on. Aviators. They reflect and distort the street around him into technicoloured fragments. Suddenly, Cam wonders if he kept her out here so he could easily hide his eyes, his expression. His innermost thoughts.

And she thought she might find his contact with Luke reassuring, but she doesn’t. ‘Did everyone hear?’ she adds, and she doesn’t know why, only that it feels vaguely unsettlingto know that he shouted that out, and that the only people who heard him were police.

‘Just me,’ Niall says, which Cam suspects is a lie.

‘Was it some sort of goodbye?’ Cam says, fear firing up through her.

Niall seems to appraise her, silent. ‘Do you think that sounds like a farewell, or an invitation to talk to you?’

‘If he wanted to talk to me, I think he would ask,’ Cam says honestly. ‘He’s a direct sort of person.’

‘Ishe.’

‘Usually.’

‘I think getting you on the line will be really helpful, given everything.’

Cam stares down at her feet. The grass verges are a faded wheatgrass colour against the pavement, their edges a fringed old rug. ‘Niall. Is there a chance he isn’t doing this of his own free will? Like – that he’s been told to?’

Niall raises his eyebrows, his features arranged into the sort of face you’d make at a dinner party if you met someone who did an interesting job. Mild intrigue. Let’s try and get to the truth together. ‘I’m under pressure to get you on the phone. We don’t have much time.’

‘OK,’ Cam says in a small voice.

‘I have some questions: what sort of person is Luke?’ he asks. And Cam’s glad of this. Niall has none of Lambert’s fact-finding. He is all about character.

He brushes a hand over his stubble, and Cam finds herself wondering the same things about him: does he have a wife? Kids? How many hostage situations has he ended? Has he ever killed in order to end them? The last question circles in Cam’s mind like water going down a drain, around and around and around.

‘Happy,’ Cam says definitively. She finds it easy to describe Luke. ‘Enjoys his life. Doesn’t sweat the small stuff.’ As she says this last phrase, she wonders if it is quite true now. That is certainly the man she fell in love with. But is it the man who exists today, who shouts about MOTs? And, if not, when did the change truly begin? Was it just this past week or two, or has it been longer?

Tell my wife that I love her.

Niall gestures for her to follow him into the pub. They sit at a table he leads her to that is scattered with torn beer mats. He takes his sunglasses off. Underneath, his eyes look pale and raw.

‘Ghostwriter is interesting. He didn’t want the public profile?’

Cam blinks. She’d never thought of it like that. ‘No, I think he just likes writing and researching. Was a journalist. It’s … it’s an easy job. Not great money, but not bad either. You can work for yourself, on your own time. That appeals to him.’

‘Why?’

‘He … he likes to do what he wants to do, when he wants to do it.’

Behind Niall, two officers begin working on his phone, attaching a recording device. Cam can’t stop watching them, the intricate motions of their fingers, the reality of this situation rushing towards her. They’re going to call him and try to negotiate. And, if he won’t …

‘Come on, Niall,’ one of them says to him. ‘Two minutes.’

He ignores them. ‘Interesting. You think it could be connected to this?’

‘How?’

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