Free Blood Ties by Jane A. Adams Page A

.
    â€˜You think?’
    â€˜I don’t know. That’s just it. I really, really don’t know.’

NINE
    â€˜ S o, what did you find?’ Naomi asked Alec later that afternoon when Alec had returned from Eddy’s house.
    â€˜Who says I found anything? You heard me tell Jim and Bethan we still hadn’t tracked the long-lost relatives down.’
    â€˜I did, but I know you.’
    â€˜I should hope so by now.’
    â€˜So?’
    Alec flopped down on the edge of the bed and Naomi joined him. ‘I don’t actually know,’ he said. ‘I only had a quick look before I put it in my pocket.’
    â€˜You didn’t show Susan?’
    â€˜Err, no. And, before you ask, I don’t know why. It was just in such an odd place and I almost missed it.’
    He told her about Eddy’s house. About the threadbare furniture and frayed carpet and the visitor who must have come very late to drink tea and eat biscuits. And about Karen’s room, frozen in time beneath a layer of dust and cobwebs – ‘like that woman in the Dickens novel.’
    â€˜Miss Haversham? Hardly, she’d been jilted.’
    â€˜But you know what I mean. Anyway, what I found was this.’
    She heard the rustle of paper. Something thin and then something else. He laid his finds between them on the bed and Naomi reached out to touch. ‘A photograph,’ she guessed, feeling the glossy front and more matt reverse. ‘Small, one of those photo booth things? No, it feels too thick for that.’
    â€˜I think it’s a Polaroid,’ Alec said.
    â€˜Oh, right. Sam had one of those. Film cost a fortune and you only got eight shots. Fun though. A newspaper clipping?’
    â€˜Yes, Sherlock, it is indeed.’
    â€˜And a key. A little key.’ She frowned. ‘What is that? A suitcase key or briefcase or something?’
    â€˜Um, maybe, but what it reminds me of is that five-year diary you have from when you were a kid.’
    â€˜Ah, my secret diary.’
    â€˜That you kept for about a week.’
    â€˜Oh, it was longer than that.’ She felt the key again. ‘It might be,’ she agreed. ‘OK, so what does the clipping say and how exactly did you find it? I mean, I know in a dressing gown pocket, but . . .’
    â€˜I know what you mean. Folded together. Key and photo inside the newspaper clipping.’
    â€˜Karen might have put them there. I mean, you may well be right about the dressing gown being disturbed, but might Eddy have known about them?’
    â€˜Not likely. The clipping is about Karen’s death and the photo is of her too.’
    â€˜Oh? Read it.’
    â€˜I’ll summarize,’ Alec said. ‘Basically, there were four friends. One, a seventeen-year-old called Oliver Bates, had just passed his test. He’d driven them all to the cinema and they were coming home, didn’t make it. The car was found wrapped round a tree and the report says that Oliver and the front seat passenger – Jill Wellesley, Oliver’s girlfriend – died instantly. Those in the back were Karen and her friend, Sara Coles. Karen and Sara had been staying with Jill. Karen died at the scene before help arrived. Sara survived in hospital for three days before they turned off her life support.’
    â€˜Oh, God, that’s horrible,’ Naomi said quietly. They’d both attended similar incidents; both had had to tell parents that their kids would not be coming home. ‘What caused it?’
    â€˜Well, no one seems to know. None of them had been drinking. There were skid marks on the road but the local police don’t even know if they were linked. And there was nothing to suggest a collision. It was, apparently, a notorious accident black spot. He maybe tried to take the bend too fast and lost control. If another vehicle was involved, maybe something he had to swerve to avoid, then they didn’t stick around