Intentional, not an accident as he had told the police. Hiding in the shadows, her husband’s killer watched him die. She was sure of it. Her mum, dad, said it was her job. She was naturally untrusting, and sometimes it was just an accident.
Richard was the only one of a handful of people on her side. They trawled through the evidence. He spoke to his contacts at the police, but there was no evidence to suggest anything suspicious.
It had to be something to do with the story he was working on, but his latest evidence wasn’t in any of his correspondence. His note book, something he used in every story was missing.
‘Sarah, I wish there was more I could do, but I’ve asked around. My contact at the police said there was nothing wrong with his motorbike.’
‘He is . . . was the safest rider I know,’ Sarah said, not giving up. The room, in total darkness, she followed the voice of her friend. ‘Something isn’t adding up. Where was his notebook? He kept everything in there.’
‘It could have been lost in the accident . . . I know you want to believe there is something more to this, but you’ve no need to feel guilty about him picking you up that night.’
I felt guilty, but not for the reason he thinks. Too focussed on my story, to ask how his had been going. Losing my sight, I still carried on working. Losing my husband, I still can’t stop.
Leaving Richard with his story, it was only natural I carried on with Graham’s.