_OceanofPDF.com_The_Girl_on_the_Train_-_Paula_Hawkins

neglected . . . Christ, she just wouldn’t fucking shut up. So . . . I don’t
know, I just needed her to stop. So I picked up a rock”—he stares down
at his right hand, as though he can see it now—“and I just . . .” He closes
his eyes and sighs deeply. “It was just one hit, but she was . . .” He puffs
out his cheeks, exhales slowly. “I didn’t mean for this. I just wanted her
to stop. She was bleeding a lot. She was crying, making a horrible noise.
She tried to crawl away from me. There was nothing I could do. I had to
finish it.”
The sun is gone, the room is dark. It’s quiet, save for the sound of
Tom’s breathing, ragged and shallow. There’s no street noise. I can’t
remember the last time I heard a train.
“I put her in the boot of the car,” he says. “I drove a bit farther into the
wood, off the road. There was no one around. I had to dig . . .” His
breathing is shallower still, quickening. “I had to dig with my bare
hands. I was afraid.” He looks up at me, his pupils huge. “Afraid that
someone would come. And it was painful, my fingernails ripped in the
soil. It took a long time. I had to stop to phone Anna, to tell her I was out
looking for you.”
He clears his throat. “The ground was actually quite soft, but I still
couldn’t go down as deep as I wanted. I was so afraid that someone
would come. I thought there would be a chance to go back, later on,
when things had all died down. I thought I would be able to move her,
put her somewhere . . . better. But then it started raining and I never got
the chance.”
He looks up at me with a frown. “I was almost sure that the police
would go for Scott. She told me how paranoid he was about her screwing
around, that he used to read her emails, check up on her. I thought . . .
well, I was planning to put her phone in his house at some point. I don’t
know. I thought I might go round there for a beer or something, a
friendly neighbour kind of thing. I don’t know. I didn’t have a plan. I
hadn’t thought it all through. It wasn’t like a premeditated thing. It was
just a terrible accident.”
But then his demeanour changes again. It’s like clouds scudding
across the sky, now dark, now light. He gets to his feet and walks slowly
over to the kitchen, where Anna is now sitting at the table, feeding Evie.
He kisses her on the top of the head, then lifts his daughter out of the
chair.
“Tom . . .” Anna starts to protest.
“It’s OK.” He smiles at his wife. “I just want a cuddle. Don’t I,
darling?” He goes over to the fridge with his daughter in his arms and