My mind goes to what Anna told me. Lukas’s usernames. Argo-something-or-other, I know. Crab, Baskerville, Jip. They’re related, I’m sure of it, though I can’t work out how.
Baskerville is easy, I think. There’s the typeface, of course, but the only other reference I can think of is Sherlock Holmes, The Hound of. Slowly it comes: Jip is from David Copperfield, as well as The Story of Dr Dolittle, and Crab is from Shakespeare, though I don’t remember which play. And Argos is from The Odyssey.
They’re all dog’s names.
I see it all, then. A burst of realization. A few years ago, when Connor was nine or ten, the three of us went on holiday to Crete. We stayed in a hotel, near the beach. One night we were at dinner, discussing our names, where they’d come from, what they meant. Later Hugh had looked them all up online, and at breakfast he told us what he’d found. My name means ‘youthful’, his means ‘mind’ or ‘spirit’.
‘And mine?’ asked Connor.
‘Well, yours is Irish,’ said his father. ‘Apparently, it means “lover of hounds”.’
The truth I’ve been dodging is no longer avoidable. Right from the beginning, from the very first time Lukas had messaged me, calling himself Largos86, it’d been about Connor.
All along.
Chapter Thirty-Two
We emerge from the tunnel into dusk. I grab my phone but there’s still no signal, and as I wait I look out of the window.
The French landscape looks unreal, shrouded in a thin gauze. I see the desolate hypermarkets, their huge car parks without a sign of the shoppers who’ve driven there. The train seems to have a different rhythm now, as if the mere fact of travelling to a different country has caused the world to shift, just slightly. I put my watch forward by an hour; my phone has set itself automatically. A minute later I see three bars in the display and a second after that my phone beeps with a waiting voicemail. It’s from Anna.
I listen to it. ‘Julia!’ she begins. Already I’m searching for clues; in the background I can hear what sounds like the bustle of the station, and she sounds excited. Good news? Can it be? She goes on.
‘I’ve got him! He was just getting off the train as I got here.’ Her voice is muffled, as if she’s holding her phone against her chest, then, ‘Sorry, but he won’t speak to you.’ She lowers her voice. ‘He’s embarrassed, I think. Anyway, we’re just sitting here having a milkshake, and when we’ve finished we’ll head back to my place. Ring me, when you get this, and we’ll see you there.’
Relief mixes with anxiety. I wish she’d sit with him, where she is, or take him somewhere else. Anywhere but back to her flat, I want to say. She doesn’t understand the danger she’s in.
I call her back; the phone rings out. Come on, I say to myself, over and over, but she doesn’t answer. I try her again, then a third time. Still nothing. It’s no good. I leave a message, it’s all I can do, and then I try Hugh.
No answer there either; his phone goes straight to voicemail. I guess he’s on a train behind me, with no reception. I leave a message, asking him to call me. I’m on my own.
I sit where I am. I concentrate on my breathing, on staying calm. I concentrate on not wanting a drink.
I try to work out why he’s doing it. Why he’s pretending to be my son’s girlfriend, why he’s luring him to Paris.
I think of the dogs. Largos86.
Finally my mind settles on the last truth it’s been avoiding.
Lukas is Connor’s father.
The elements begin to slot into place. He must’ve befriended Kate, first, maybe Anna around the same time. It’s possible neither knew of the existence of him in the other’s life; perhaps he was friends with Kate online only. He’d have been the one persuading her to try to get Connor back, and then, just when it looked like it might be about to succeed, she’d been killed.
And so he came after my son using the only other route open to him. Through me.
Why didn’t I see it? I think of all the times I’d suspected that there was more to our relationship than I knew, all the things I’d glimpsed, and then avoided.
I wonder what Lukas thought would happen. I wonder if he’d hoped I’d end my marriage to be with him, that we’d all become one big happy family.
I think back to those times. Kate, calling me. I want him back. He’s my son. You can’t keep him. I wish I’d never let you take him from me.
Now I know it was him. Lukas, telling her what to say. Lukas, who’d come back for his son. My son.
‘I want Connor,’ she’d said, over and over, night after night.
Deep down, I know she’d still be alive if I hadn’t said no.
We reach Gare du Nord and I step off the train and get a taxi. It’s dark now, rain falls on the silvered streets of Paris as we glide towards the eleventh arrondissement. I’ve called Hugh and given him Anna’s address; he said he’ll meet us there. Now I try Anna again. I have to speak to my son.
The screen shows that she’s online, available for a video chat. I press call and a few moments later a window opens on my screen. I can see Anna’s living room, the same furniture I’m used to, the same pictures on the walls. A moment later she appears.
‘Thank God. Anna—’
I freeze. She looks distressed, her eyes are wide, tinged with red. She looks terrified.
‘What’s wrong? Where’s Connor?’
She leans in close to the screen. She’s been crying.
‘What’s happened? Where’s my son!’
‘He’s here,’ she says, but she’s shaking her head. ‘Ryan came back. He was angry—’
I interrupt. ‘But you had Connor with you!’
‘No, no. Connor was waiting outside. But… I couldn’t stop him. The pictures on his computer… I think he’s going to send them to Hugh. And… and he hit me.’
She looks numb, almost as if she’s been anaesthetized.
I think of the time with David, the incident in the car, the knife.
‘He was angry.’
‘That’s no excuse! Anna, you have to get out of there!’
She leans in, close to the machine. ‘I’m okay. Listen’ – she looks over her shoulder – ‘I haven’t got long. I need to tell you something. I have a gun.’
At first I think I’ve misheard her, but her face is grave. I realize I haven’t, and she’s serious.
‘What…? A gun? What d’you mean?’
She begins speaking quickly. ‘When Kate died… a friend of mine… he said he could get me one. For protection. And I said no, but…’
‘But what?’
‘But then, this stuff with Ryan. I was scared. I…’
‘You said yes.’
She nods. I wonder how it came to this, and whether there’s anything she’s not telling me about Ryan. About what he might’ve done already.
‘But…’ I say. ‘A gun?’
She doesn’t answer. I see her look over her shoulder. There’s been a noise, and then it comes again. A thudding.
‘Listen…’ She’s speaking quickly, whispering. I struggle to make out what she’s saying. ‘There’s something else. Hugh made me promise not to tell you, but I have to—’
‘Hugh?’ His name is the last I expected to hear.
‘—it’s about Kate. The guy. The one they found with the earring. It wasn’t him.’
I shake my head. No. No, this can’t be.
‘What do you mean, it wasn’t him?’
‘He had an alibi.’
‘Hugh would’ve told me. He wouldn’t let me go on thinking…’
The sentence peters out. Maybe he would. For the sake of peace.
‘I’m sorry, but it’s true. He said—’ There’s a noise at her end, loud. It sounds like a door slamming, a voice, though I can’t make out what’s being said.