Soul Fire (24 page)

‘If I give you my number, will you promise to text me before you go anywhere near J’s father?’ I ask Gabe. ‘Please? I’ll be in this area, anyway. But I guess I
should see my friends or they’ll wonder what I’ve been up to.’
Friends?
Tonight has little to do with friendship. It’s my last – and my best – chance to
watch my suspects, and catch them unawares. And right now, I should be on my way to talk to Lewis about the Burning Truths photo.

Gabe nods. ‘Thank you.’

‘Don’t thank me, Gabe. I know Javier wouldn’t have wanted you to face this alone. And I
need
to see this through.’

Lewis’s room is like something out of a Bond movie. His bathroom is twice the size of our shared hostel bedroom, and the view from the twelfth floor is like looking down
from a giant ocean liner. If
I
was staying here, I don’t think I’d bother going out at all.

Lewis doesn’t notice what’s beyond his window, or bother asking how my day’s been. He’s too busy frowning at his laptop screen.

‘You need to see this, Alice.’

He’s pulled up the Burning Truths site. I look over his shoulder.

There’s a close-up photograph of a crystal wine glass.

‘What’s that supposed to . . .’

Then I notice the lip print, in darkest crimson. A shade Meggie never wore; it was too garish for her golden colouring.

Yet that cupid’s bow. I’m pretty sure it’s hers. She went through a phase of signing off all her letters with lipstick prints and the perfect shape on the glass matches those
exactly.

This is the image I couldn’t see:
MeganForster _lips.jpg
.

‘That’s just weird.’

Lewis nods. ‘This picture. And the other one,’ he scrolls down to the first photo posted there, of Meggie’s lifeless hand.

‘I know it sounds odd but they almost remind me of collector’s items – like you’d see in a museum.’

I think of another interpretation and it makes me shudder. ‘Or the pictures they take on crime shows. At the post mortem.’

Lewis nods. ‘If we can find out who took these, I think we will have found the killer.’

It’s only what I was thinking, of course, but when he says that, the danger I’m in hits me harder than it ever has before. And it’s not just me, but also Lewis. Or all of us.
All of us, except the person responsible. And I can’t help wondering . . . Was Sahara
following
me earlier on?

‘Alice, there’s another thing. I don’t want to worry you, but I wonder if I should take this down. At the moment, hardly anyone has found the site. But if one person stumbles
on these photos and realises what they are, it could go viral. And then . . . well, it might be a lot harder to get at the truth.’

‘You can do that? Take the site down.’

‘I could launch a denial of service attack right now. There’s a ninety-nine per cent chance it’ll work, at least until after the fiesta – until we’ve had a chance
to talk to Zoe.’

‘You still think it’s her?’

‘Alice, I
know
it’s her. After the conversation we had last night about
la Feé Verte
, someone searched for information about me for hours and hours. And she
wasn’t quite as careful as she is when she’s coding her site. I tracked the searches down to an area off the Ramblas called Raval. That’s where Zoe lives. It’s too much of a
coincidence.’

I nod. I knew it already, really. ‘But where would she have got the photos from?’

‘Or who?’ Lewis says as he sits down at the computer. The bin’s full of Coke cans. This is a real home from home. I wonder if he’s slept at all since he’s been
here, and how much time he’s spent at the conference he’s supposed to have come here for.

‘Lewis, do you see now? Why I’ve got doubts about Tim being the one who killed Meggie?’ I ask.

He doesn’t look at me. ‘It could still have been Tim who took those photos, couldn’t it?’

‘But he was going out with her. Why would he need to photograph her lips on a glass?’

‘If he did murder her, Alice, then I don’t suppose he’d have been worried about a bit of illicit photography.’

‘Lewis, you don’t really believe he killed her, do you?’

He smiles wearily. ‘Look, I’m not saying your hunch about Tim is wrong. Zoe’s reached the same conclusions, after all. She’s trying to warn people. But she’s afraid
to come out with it openly. And with good reason, I guess, when you think that we’re dealing with someone who might have killed two people, now.’

‘She’ll realise, if you take the site down. She’ll know it’s you.’

‘I know. But I can time it for when we’re at the fiesta. Give us a chance to talk to her. She might
want
to talk, you know, Alice.’

‘I’ve tried, but—’

‘Try again. You’ll probably get further than me.’

‘Why?’

He shrugs. ‘I don’t think she’s keen on strangers, do you? But I’ll tell you what I see when I look at that site, apart from the dodgy graphics. I see fear, but also a
desperation to confide in someone. To share her suspicions.’

I nod, even though I can’t help wondering why she can’t just go and tell the police directly. I wonder if they’re still watching the site – or if the detectives have
already forgotten about my sister’s case now that the murder team’s been disbanded?

‘Shall I see you later, then?’ Lewis asks pointedly.

‘You want me to go now?’

‘I am
supposed
to be working.
Net
working. God knows this hotel room is costing me enough, so I should at least make an effort to do something productive other than stalk Zoe
on Burning Truths.’

‘Oh. Only I was wondering if I could use your laptop – just for a few minutes. There are a few emails I want to send.’
And another conversation to be had with a dead boy who
just a few hundred metres from here
.

He frowns. ‘Oh, Alice. For once I’m saying no. You’re not running a FTSE 100 company. I’m sure they can wait. Why don’t you go to the beach and eye up the boys or
something, like a normal teenage girl?’

I look through the window, down to the shore, and then to the city beyond. Firecracker flashes light up streets and squares. I can’t hear anything, but it’s definitely getting wilder
out there.

The line between normal and out of control seems to be at its narrowest in this city.

The hostel is a shock after the luxury of Lewis’s hotel. Our room smells of Cara and Sahara’s competing perfumes, and there’s an oily layer of sand on the
floor that sticks to my feet as I get changed.

I keep checking my phone, but Gabe hasn’t been in touch. I hope he doesn’t break his promise to wait till I’m there before he goes near Javier’s father.

‘I’ve had such a lovely afternoon,’ says Sahara. ‘The Picasso museum is incredible. I could spend a week there.’

Is she lying? I thought she was going to spend the afternoon back at the hostel, away from the crowds. ‘You went on your own?’ I ask her.

She nods. ‘Adrian’s the perfect boyfriend in almost every way, but he doesn’t have much patience for art, do you?’ And she reaches out to stroke his neck.

‘I have tried,’ he says, ‘but I’m a cultural pleb.’

‘Anyway, I’d rather have the chance to go at my own pace. I literally studied some of the paintings for twenty minutes. People were staring at me,’ Sahara laughs.

‘Cara smiles. ‘Well, we had a great afternoon at the beach, didn’t we, Alice?’

I frown at her. I never agreed to be her alibi. Then again, I don’t want to make Sahara suspicious.

‘Time’s gone so fast today,’ I say vaguely.

‘And we had a lovely late picnic lunch,’ Cara adds.

Sahara frowns. ‘A
liquid
lunch, was it?’

I look at Cara: she seems slightly cross-eyed, and her make-up’s on the smudged side.

Cara pulls a face. ‘We are on
holiday
, in case you’ve forgotten.’

‘All the same, Cara,’ I say, ‘Zoe says this fire festival can get quite out of control. We should be careful. And she reckons we need to cover up a bit.’

Sahara holds up a balaclava and red scarf she bought earlier, and Ade is pulling on a thick blue cotton shirt with long cuffs that will cover his hands.

‘Blimey, Alice, give it a rest. It’s only a party. Seriously, mate, you never used to be such a worrier,’ Cara says.

Sahara stares at her. ‘Is it any wonder she worries about the people she cares about after what happened to Meggie? Honestly, Cara. You don’t deserve her as a friend if you
can’t understand
that.’

Cara blushes. ‘Sorry,’ she says to me. ‘OK. You win. I’ll cover up when it’s time.’

‘We’re still going to have a great night,’ I say. ‘I know we will. But there’s safety in numbers, eh? So long as we all stick together, we’ll have the time of
our lives.’

All the firecrackers in the world must have been shipped to Barcelona for tonight.

And now the sun’s going down, they’re being lit across the city. The flashes are almost constant, so it feels like day again.

The bars are full except for an Irish pub with a terrace where people are clustered round tall tables. Even though the evening’s sultry, the locals are dressed in cold weather layers,
while the tourists wear thin cotton shirts. Suddenly I see how Gabe could tell I was foreign; we stand out a mile among the smart Catalans.

Still no message from Gabe. I’ve been checking my phone every couple of minutes. I even texted to remind him, but I’ve heard nothing back.

‘Zoe definitely knows we’re here, does she?’ Lewis asks. It’s ten past eight now. We were supposed to meet at eight, so we could find a spot with a good view
and
a
fast escape route.
You don’t want to get lost in the crowd
, she’d warned us.

Sahara reaches for her phone and texts Zoe again. ‘She’s normally punctual.’

Lewis and I exchange a look. He’s arranged for the Denial of Service attack on Burning Truths to start at eight o’clock, because we thought she’d be safely away from her
computer by then, but what if she’s decided not to join us? Not only will we miss our best chance to talk to her, but she might panic, fight the Denial of Service, stay away.

The idea that all this might be for nothing, that I could go home knowing no more about Meggie’s death than I do now, makes me dizzy. Lewis reaches out to touch my hand.

‘We’ll sort this, don’t worry,’ he whispers. ‘Even if we have to go round to her flat and confront her there. The trip won’t be in vain, I promise
you.’

Cara has seen his hand on mine, and she raises her eyebrows at me, as though I’m up to no good – when, of course, it’s her that’s putting herself at risk. OK, so Sahara
didn’t see anything earlier, but that was pure luck. And if Cara and Ade were brazen enough to kiss in broad daylight, then I’m scared of what they might do under cover of darkness.

I take my hand away from Lewis’s, and lean towards Cara. ‘Let’s forget about the boys tonight. I’d rather be with you than with anyone alive.’

At first I don’t recognise the bandit who arrives at our table.

‘Zoe?’ Sahara says uncertainly, leaning forward to look into the bandit’s eyes.

‘Who the hell else would it be?’ Only her voice gives her away. Her bald head is covered like it always is, but she has a second lime green scarf tied in an upside down triangle
round her face and neck, plus a thick ski jacket, black leather gloves, old jeans and ankle boots. She must be boiling hot.

‘We were about to give up on you,’ Sahara scolds. ‘It’s almost time for the parade to begin.’

‘I told you before, it’s not a bloody parade!’ she snaps. If anything, she’s edgier tonight than she’s ever been. Has she worked out what Lewis has done – or
is something else freaking her out? ‘I wouldn’t dress like this for fun, would I?’

‘Isn’t that what tonight is about? Fun?’ Cara says.

Zoe turns on her. ‘You’re not going into the flames looking like that, are you?’

‘Ugh, not
that
again,’ Cara says. ‘You’re worse than my mum.’

Zoe shakes her head. ‘Things are different here. It’s the culture. You look after yourself. You don’t expect other people to do it for you.’

Cara is wearing the skimpiest of halter-neck dresses. ‘Er, it is midsummer, in case you haven’t noticed. But don’t worry, Ade’s already agreed to lend me his
shirt.’ There’s the briefest glance between him and Cara that only I notice. Sahara is too busy trying out her balaclava and tying the scarf round her thin, slightly greasy hair.

‘I’ll be OK in this, will I?’ Sahara asks.

‘You could probably survive a nuclear bomb in that,’ Zoe says. She turns to me. ‘You’re OK, Alice. Though watch out for your hair. Ideally you’d cover that
too.’

‘I’m a wimp anyway.’ I tell her. ‘I don’t intend to get too close.’

I can’t help thinking that Zoe’s going over the top. How can the wide boulevard we walked down yesterday turn into some fiery vision of hell?

‘Assuming I
don’t
turn into a human firecracker, what happens?’ Cara asks. ‘We dance in the flames for a bit, and then what?’

‘When I came with my parents the first time, they kept me safely on the sidelines and it seemed to last a couple of hours. But if you’re in the thick of it, I think the time will go
lightning-fast. Fear does that.’

Sahara’s taken her balaclava off now, but her eyes are wide open, as though she’s half expecting Satan himself to pop up out of the barrel our drinks are resting on.

I take my mobile out. No messages.

Cara winks. ‘Not expecting a text from the mysterious
Danny
, are we?’ she whispers.

If only she knew.

Dusk is falling fast and it’s beginning to feel more like Halloween than midsummer. The bars and cafés are all candlelit, but a sea breeze has swept in so the flames keep blowing
out.

It’s still warm, but I’m shivering. Lewis catches my eye and then nods towards Zoe. I know what he’s thinking – if the parade goes on for hours, maybe this is my best
chance to talk to her. If he’s right, and she wants to talk too, then perhaps all I need to do is break away from the group, let her come to me . . .

The others are chatting and laughing as I walk to the edge of the road, brushing past Zoe ‘accidentally’ on the way. I cross over, closer to the harbour and the city museum. There
are lights on some of the yachts, but most of the people are headed to the right, into the city.