Watching You (34 page)

Marnie looks up from the page. “I have a real father. His name is Thomas John Logan and he’s here today in the public gallery. Owen Cargill is not my father—he’s the monster who killed my husband and my mother and my baby brother.”

Owen’s head is swinging back and forth. Leaping to his feet, he roars, smashing his head against the glass.

“I’M YOUR FATHER,” he screams.

Marnie continues, her knuckles white on the page. “I cannot forgive the horrors this man inflicted on my family. I
will not
forgive him.”

“I DID IT FOR YOU. I KEPT YOU SAFE.” Blood drips from Owen’s nose down onto his lips, staining his teeth. “YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH! YOU FUCKING COW!”

Judge Baum yells for order and demands that the prisoner be removed. Owen is still screaming: “WE’RE FAMILY, YOU CAN’T CHANGE THAT.”

Marnie folds her statement and steps down from the witness box, passing the dock as she walks toward the door. She stops opposite Owen, who is fighting with the security guards, his face contorted with rage. They restrain him, twisting his arms behind his back, forcing his face against the glass. In that brief moment, Marnie stares into Owen’s sightless sockets and seems to fight an emotion that is ancient but still potent. Then she turns and walks out of the courtroom.

Joe finds her inside the main entrance. Judge Baum has given Owen Cargill three life sentences.

“You were amazing,” says Zoe, giving Marnie a hug.

“I’m still shaking.”

Thomas dabs at his eyes with a white handkerchief. “You made your old man cry.”

“I meant every word.”

A restaurant has been booked, champagne on ice.

“Are you sure you won’t change your mind?” Marnie asks Joe, picking up his hand and putting her fingers between his.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“You’re my patient.”

“Can’t you be my friend too?”

“I don’t want to have to define those boundaries.”

Marnie pouts sadly, showing her dimples. She cups the back of his neck and kisses both his cheeks, leaving a smudge of lipstick. Then she hugs him close, pressing her face to his chest and her body against his loins. “You can get mad if you want to, but allow me this.”

Joe can smell her perfume and the fragrance of her skin. She pulls away and waves goodbye as she takes her father’s arm. Elijah and the nanny are waiting for them at the restaurant. Zoe falls into step beside Ruiz, who has also been invited to the celebration.

DI Gennia appears at Joe’s shoulder. The detective takes a stick of gum from his pocket and unwraps it slowly. He spits out the old wad into the silver foil and wraps it in a tight ball. The new gum is concertinaed against his tongue and he chews it reflectively. Above his head a passenger jet is descending west toward Heathrow, leaving a thin vapor trail like a chalk mark on a blue board. “Marnie Logan is your problem now,” he says. “I hope you’re up to it.”

“She’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?”

Joe turns to him, wanting an explanation. Gennia shrugs, giving the impression that he’s simply making conversation, but Joe knows the detective isn’t prone to asking pointless questions.

“Ever heard of Stephen Rudolf?”

“No.”

“He’s an insurance broker; works at a place called Life General; has an office in Tottenham Court Road. He was the guy who was handling Marnie Logan’s life insurance claim on her husband. A few days before Patrick Hennessy was murdered, Rudolf had a meeting with Marnie Logan and he rejected her claim. The next day he fell down a set of stairs at a car park in the West End. Fractured his skull. Broke his leg.”

Gennia pinches the gum between his teeth and pulls it into a long strand. “Maybe the guy tripped. Maybe he’s looking for a pay-out. Wouldn’t that be ironic?”

“I don’t understand,” says Joe.

“Owen Cargill confessed to pushing Rudolf down the stairs, but that’s not possible. He wasn’t in the West End that day. We have CCTV footage and mobile phone records that put him somewhere completely different.”

Joe doesn’t respond. Gennia tugs the collar of his jacket around his neck and plants his hands in his pockets.

“Like I said, she’s your problem now.”

Each time I finish a novel I think, that’s it—I’m all out of ideas, characters, plot twists and one-liners.

“There’s nothing left,” I tell my wife, “I’m an empty shell, a hollowed-out human being. From now on I’ll have to get a proper job.”

And she says, “You’ll be fine. Take a break.”

So I sit for an hour and twiddle my thumbs, do the crossword, perhaps sweep up some leaves, before deciding to tidy my writing room (formerly known as “Dad’s pit of despair,” but since we moved house it is the “cabana of cruelty”).

This is where Vivien will find me some time later, feverishly scribbling notes and tapping at the keyboard.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve had an idea.”

“I thought you were an empty shell, a hollowed-out human being.”

“That was before.”

Watching You
is my ninth novel and thankfully the words are still coming. It would not have been possible without the support of my publishers, editors and agents, friends all. In particular, I wish to thank Ursula Mackenzie, Georg Reuchlein, David Shelley, Mark Lucas, Richard Pine, Nicky Kennedy, Sam Edinburgh, Josh Kendall, Lucy Icke, and Thalia Proctor.

For my home away from home in the UK, I am repetitively grateful to Mark and Sara Derry, and many other friends who stop me getting homesick when I’m abroad. Last, but never least, I wish to honor the woman who married me twenty-five years ago. Without Vivien there would be no time for books, or children, or life. She’s the reason I do this.

Michael Robotham has been an investigative journalist in Britain, Australia, and the United States. A bestselling author both in the Unites States and abroad, he is one of the world’s most acclaimed authors of thriller fiction and lives in Sydney with his wife and three daughters.

michaelrobotham.com

@
michaelrobotham

The Suspect

Lost

The Night Ferry

Shatter

Bombproof

Bleed for Me

The Wreckage

Say You’re Sorry

To receive special offers, bonus content, and news about our latest ebooks and apps, sign up for our newsletters.

Sign Up

Or visit us at
hachettebookgroup.com/newsletters

For more about this book and author, visit Bookish.com.