Page 147 of The Jealous Girl

‘And you assumed it was because you’d chosen the wrong thing?’

I nodded. ‘To Ryan, a decision should be quick. Almost instinctive. But the wrong decision…’

‘I’m not Ryan,’ Ben said softly. ‘If I don’t like something, I’ll tell you.’

I glanced back at the busy café. The thought of manoeuvring through the crowd, waiting in line, none of it appealed.

‘I don’t want a drink,’ I said quietly. ‘I’d rather just keep walking.’

Ben grinned. ‘Then that is what we’ll do.’

We fell into step side by side until, finally, the noise faded behind us.

‘So, what now?’ Ben asked.

I stopped and leaned against the painted blue railing.

The police had already formed their opinion. Their case. And all of it was against me. I couldn’t count on them to realise their mistakes. Charlotte had made sure of that.

I turned to Ben beside me. ‘I keep thinking about what David Harcourt said.’

‘Look at the Blackwaters,’ Ben said, repeating David’s words.

I nodded. ‘Exactly. But how do we do that? I’ve already been through the office in the stables. There was nothing there.’

‘The house?’ Ben said tentatively.

I frowned. ‘That’s a bit different to just sneaking in through an open window in the tack room at night.’

‘Besides, someone would always be there,’ Ben added. ‘There are too many yard staff around in the daytime, and the Blackwaters would be in the house at night.’

I turned back to the sea, squinting at the white limestone of Old Harry Rocks in the distance.

‘Unless everyone is out,’ I said, suddenly standing up straight and pulling my phone from my pocket.

‘That never happens,’ Ben said automatically.

‘Except when they hold a memorial for one of their own.’

He frowned. ‘What memorial?’

I opened Canva. ‘The one we are about to organise.’

‘What?’ Ben blinked. ‘How?’

‘I still have access to the Blackwater Stables social media accounts,’ I said, moving to the bench behind us. ‘All I have to do is create a graphic announcing the details and post it.’

‘But…’ Ben followed and sat beside me, still looking stunned. ‘When?’

I drummed my fingers against the phone screen. ‘Tomorrow’s Sunday. More people would be free. And who knows how much time I have before the police turn up again?’

‘Okay,’ he said, slowly warming to the idea. ‘But we still need a location.’

My gaze drifted across the bay towards Ballard Down. ‘Where she died. At 2 p.m.’

He grimaced. ‘Isn’t that a bit weird?’

I tipped my head to the side. ‘Probably. But where else can we have it? The stables would be the logical place⁠—’