Page 67 of The Last One to See Him

‘Yesterday you said you trusted me, so?—’

‘That’s not exactly what I said, Kate. I said we all have to pick a side. It doesn’t mean I trust you. I just said I don’t trust Harper.’

‘Please, can we meet today? There’s got to be a way we can prove Harper’s responsible for Jamie’s death, and if we get our heads together then?—’

‘Hey, I’m a true-crime podcaster not a detective.’

‘Yes, but you’re a very creative one. Please, Faye.’

Faye exhales loudly. ‘Okay. But you’ll have to come to my place. I have a home studio and I’m a bit chock-a-block today. Say around lunchtime – one o’clock? I’ll send you my address.’

‘Thanks,’ Kate says, ‘I’ll see you then.’ She hangs up before Faye can change her mind.

Kate gets to Stoke Newington before twelve and finds a coffee shop, slipping inside to escape the biting cold while she waits.

After forcing down a barely lukewarm coffee that’s far too bitter, Kate wraps her scarf around her neck and makes her way to Brighton Road.

She sees the glaring lights of the ambulance as soon as she turns onto Faye’s road; two police cars are parked haphazardly, and a swarm of onlookers are huddled on the pavement.

Kate walks faster, checking door numbers as she goes. Outside number fifty-two – Faye’s house – a police officer stands guard by the door, while two paramedics carry out a woman on a stretcher. It’s Faye, her long braids dangling over either side of the stretcher.

Rushing over to them, Kate tries to get closer, but she’s ushered away by the police officer. ‘You can’t go in there,’ he says.

Kate stares at him, then looks back at Faye. Her face is unrecognisable under the deep red blood and purple bruises. Kate claps her hand to her mouth.

‘Do you know her?’ the officer asks, his voice warmer now.

Kate’s about to tell him she does, but she can’t be any part of this. ‘No…sorry, I thought it was a friend of mine but it’s the wrong house. How awful. Will she be okay?’

‘I’ll need you to move back, please,’ he says, ignoring her question.

‘Will she be okay?’ Kate repeats, feeling as though she in a trance.

‘It doesn’t look good. Now stand back, please.’

Kate slowly moves back, folding herself into the crowd of onlookers that’s expanding by the second. And then when no one is paying her any attention, she slips away and rushes back towards the station.

The first thing she does when she gets home is check her phone again. There’s no news about Faye on any social media so she calls Homerton hospital, the closest one to Faye’s house, only to be told that they can’t give out any information about patients over the phone.

Frustrated, Kate ends the call and scrolls through Faye’s Instagram. It’s too much of a coincidence to believe that this has nothing to do with Kate. She’d only just spoken to Faye and arranged to meet her, and then she’s attacked.Because she was helping me.But with no news of it anywhere online, Kate can only speculate.

Putting her phone in her pocket, Kate grabs her coat and leaves the house.

By six p.m. she’s outside Rowan’s practice in South Kensington, hovering on the pavement, waiting. A young man leaves, pulling up the hood of his coat to shield himself from the cold, and then a few moments later, Frieda steps out.

Kate waits until she’s disappeared around the corner, then crosses the road and heads inside. She can’t worry about what Rowan will think of her turning up like this – there’s too much at stake.

She calls his name as she steps inside, just to warn him of her presence.

His door opens and Rowan stands there, frowning, his arms folded in front of him. ‘Kate. Um…this really isn’t?—’

‘I know what you’re going to say – but there’s no one else I can turn to. Please will you just listen to me for a minute? And then I’ll leave you alone – I promise. I’ll go to that person you’re referring me to. It’s just…you’re the only one who knows everything.’

Kate can tell from the way his eyes narrow that Rowan’s not convinced she’ll go to another therapist this easily. He doesn’t want her in his clinic, but she will stand her ground.

Rowan glances past her. ‘Come in, then,’ he says. ‘But I don’t have too long. I’m going to the theatre tonight.’ He leaves the door open and gestures for her to sit. ‘This is highly inappropriate, Kate. I know you must realise that. You’re putting me in a very difficult position. All the things I know – I really have to be informing the police.’

She nods. ‘But aren’t you always telling me things are never black and white? You’re the only person I can speak to about what’s happening. And isn’t it okay now that technically you’re not my therapist any more?’

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