The photo was taken on the wall outside my house when we were little. Even then, she had her arm around me. We were so innocent, making funny faces at the camera. I rub my finger over her face and whisper, ‘What happened to us, Faye?’ I put the photo on my bedside cabinet wondering how it ended up on top of the wardrobe.

I convince myself that it must have been in the suitcase when I moved here from my dad’s house. It seems strange that I’m only finding it now. Maybe it’s a sign, telling me to ring Faye. To ask her if she’s okay.

Without thinking twice, I dial her number. With the phone to my ear, I wait for it to ring but I’m asked to leave a message as the contact is unavailable. Faye must be in some part of the hospital with no coverage. She could be in an operating theatre for all I know, saving someone’s life. That’s Faye. I hate to think she’s worrying and has no one she can talk to about this. She needs to know she can talk to me.

‘Faye, it’s me, Tara, ring me when you get this message. We need to talk.’ I put the phone down on top of the photo and hope she might ring back.

Andriu is right about one thing; Faye did go off the rails a bit. Especially that night when she had the big row with him. She barely spoke to me after that.

The night she told me she was leaving Huntley Lodge came as a massive shock. I had just lost my mother and was about to lose my best friend. I couldn’t get my head around it and I was so absorbed in my own pain, I failed to notice Faye’s.

Was Faye being blackmailed? That would drive anyone mad. Especially as she was studying medicine. The white coat and stethoscope were only a few years away. If it got out that she helped me assist my mother’s passing, her career would be over.

But would she not have told me if she was being blackmailed? Especially when it was my fault?

Not if she killed the blackmailer.

Stop, Tara Moore, don’t be so ridiculous. You know that didn’t happen. But something did happen and the only way to find out is to ask Faye.

The sound from the TV travels into the bedroom, cheering, shouting, music. Suddenly there’s a different sound, a ringing. I turn away from the wardrobe and see my phone flashing on the bedside cabinet. I rush to grab the phone and look at the screen. My excitement is short-lived.

Why the hell is he ringing at this hour of the night?

Chapter Fifty-Two

Faye