Bill listens without saying a word, a look on his face I can’t read. None of this is what I wanted. I never set out to reveal what Amy did all those years ago. But I’m left with no choice but to defend my position. Amy is guilty, weak, selfish. The police should be able to see that now. But for all their razor-sharp insight and knowledge of the criminal profile, they’ve clearly missed something. I go on. ‘I know. What are the chances. Even to me, it sounds implausible. But the problem is, what if they believe her?’ My voice drops to a whisper as I clutch his arm. ‘I didn’t do it, Bill. Even though I’ve no way of proving it. You have to believe me.’
‘Of course I do.’ His face is grim. ‘We’ll see what they have to say. If you’re sure there’s nothing else I should know, let’s get this started.’
I shake my head. ‘Thanks for coming.’ I’m genuinely grateful, my words heartfelt but I’m nervous. Not only is he my best hope, he’s my only hope. If Bill can’t help me, then no-one can.
*
In all the years as a solicitor, for the first time I’m on the other side, with someone else acting on my behalf. When PC Page and DI Lacey return, Bill is straight onto it.
‘I’d like to know exactly why you’re holding my client.’ Bill speaks with an authority that comes from years of experience, that so many solicitors lack.
‘Then let us tell you.’ The DI is unruffled. ‘In 1996, a teenage girl tragically died. At first, her death was thought to be an accident. But a post-mortem revealed she’d ingested enough digitalis and hemlock to cause respiratory and cardiac arrest. Her grandmother was a herbalist and had a collection of dried herbs and extracts, which she kept in labelled jars. There was, however, one jar that was kept separately. A jar that someone found and that day, deliberately added to her drink, so that she ingested enough poison to kill her.’
‘What does this have to do with my client?’ Bill’s voice is calm.
‘The teenager’s name was Kimberley Preston. She had a sister, Emily, who was close friends with Ms Rose. In fact, it’s fair to say you were very close, weren’t you, Ms Rose?’
‘You don’t have to answer that.’ Bill interrupts. ‘Go on.’
‘Ms Rose had a crush on Kimberley’s boyfriend, Charlie. Between them, Ms Rose and Emily Preston cooked up a herbal concoction to make Kimberley fall out of love with Charlie. It was concocted from fairly benign substances – but at the last minute, somebody added something else, primarily the digitalis and hemlock that killed Kimberley. According to our witness, that was you, Ms Rose.’
It’s what I’d known Amy would tell them. By getting in first, she’s ahead of me, her story already lodged in their minds. Bill’s quiet for a moment. ‘And apart from this so-called witness, what proof do you have of this?’
The DI sits back. ‘I’d like to hear Ms Rose’s version of events. Ms Rose?’
The moment of truth, when I explain why she’s told them this. ‘It’s true. We made up this herbal potion. We got a bit carried away. But I never expected Amy to add the poison.’
The DI interrupts. ‘She told us about the small bottle labelled darkness.’
Silence fills the room, as I nod, my stomach turning over. ‘Amy was jealous of her sister. She was obsessed with her boyfriend. She wanted Kimberley to dump him, but at the last minute, I think she saw her chance and got carried away.’
DI Lacey shakes his head. ‘And the pair of you told no-one.’
Ashamed, I nod. ‘But in actual fact, Kimberley was hit by a car.’
‘Which would never have happened if the poison wasn’t taking effect,’ the DI points out. ‘In any case, the post-mortem showed she’d ingested enough of it to kill her.’
‘I don’t remember the details.’ My voice is low.
‘Tell us the reason you and Emily kept your secret all this time, Ms Rose.’ The DI’s voice is harsh.
I shake my head. ‘I think we both wanted to forget. Nothing we did was ever going to bring Kimberley back. My parents moved me to another school. After that, we lost touch.’
‘Let’s go back a bit.’ The DI pauses. ‘To right after Kimberley was hit by the car. What did you and Emily do next?’
‘I don’t know. We were too shocked to do anything. It was horrific.’ My shoulders tense as I remember.
‘Not too shocked to steal away and cut your fingers, then press them together in some sort of twisted little ritual while you swore a vow of secrecy? Minutes after your friend’s sister had died?’
‘That isn’t what happened.’ My teeth are gritted. The only reason he knows this is because Amy’s told him.
‘That’s not what we’ve been told. And you still haven’t really answered my question. Why have you never told anyone?’
I sigh. ‘Emily’s grandmother took the blame – she felt it was her responsibility to ensure the jars weren’t accessible. They didn’t prosecute her, because it wasn’t her fault. But you don’t forget something like that. The reality stays with you. Forever.’
‘Is it true she found the bottle labelled DARKNESS in your pocket?’
Startled that he knows about the bottle, I shake my head. ‘I don’t remember. But if she did, it doesn’t mean I put it there.’
Clearing his throat, DI Lacey looks at the papers on the table in front of him. ‘Emily was punished for her part – eventually, after her grandmother’s death. She left Emily the house, but in the intervening years, she’d planted a memorial garden to Kimberley, so that each day Emily lived there, she would always be reminded of what she’d done.’ He pauses. ‘There was another proviso in her will, that Emily could never sell. If she did, your secret would have been out. Her grandmother had left a letter with her solicitor, addressed to the police, explaining Emily’s involvement in Kimberley’s death.’ He leans towards me. ‘My question to you, Ms Rose, is what punishment did she mete out to you?’
My first instinct is to say none, because I wasn’t guilty. ‘She didn’t need to. She told my parents what happened to Kimberley. They sent me away to a vile school where I was bullied. Then they cut me off. I never went back home again. From the moment she told them, I was on my own.’
‘But at least you were alive.’ This time, the DI speaks quietly. Then he shakes his head. ‘While Kimberley wasn’t. And when you met Mr Roche, you had no idea it was Amy who he was living with?’
‘None whatsoever.’ This time, I’m completely straight. Glancing at my watch, I’m unable to believe how much time has passed. It’s early afternoon already.
DI Lacey notices. ‘We’ll take a break. Twenty minutes. There’s still something I don’t understand.’
*
Outside the police station, I have a cigarette for the first time in years.
‘I’ll go and get us sandwiches.’ Bill looks up and down the street for a shop.
I shake my head. ‘Don’t worry on my account. I won’t be able to eat anything.’
‘This is a mess, Fiona.’ Bill’s voice is quiet, urgent. ‘Your word against Amy’s, no proof on either part …’
‘I know.’ I exhale slowly. ‘There is one factor in this. Emily – Amy – is completely unstable. I wish I knew what she’d said to the police. She’s probably sent them all around the houses before finally coming up with her version of events – a version she believes, even though it’s wrong, because she can convince herself of anything.’ There’s a bitterness in my words that comes from knowing the way she works, her ability to play the innocent victim. ‘We’ve both come across those types of people, Bill. They’re completely unreliable – a nightmare. You can’t believe anything they say. I wouldn’t mind betting Amy’s pushed the police to that point. She’s been charged with Matt’s murder, so they already know what she’s capable of. That has to strengthen my case?’
Bill’s silent for a moment. ‘Let’s hope you’re right.’
*
As we return to the interview room, Bill nudges my elbow. ‘Don’t worry. If all they have is an unreliable witness, it isn’t goin
g to be enough.’
‘I hope you’re right,’ I mutter as we walk inside. After standing outside, the staleness of the air in this room is suffocating. ‘I need to open the window.’ But when I go over and try to, it’s firmly locked.
‘I’ll see if I can get someone to sort that.’ Bill heads for the door, but before he reaches it, it’s opened from the outside as DI Lacey and PC Page come in.
‘Could we open the window?’
DI Lacey glances towards me. ‘Someone was looking for the key the other day. They didn’t find it.’ Pulling out a chair he sits down. ‘Shall we continue?’
Irritated, I sit down next to Bill, but this time, it’s PC Page who speaks. ‘All evidence so far points to your involvement in Kimberley’s death. You’ve even admitted it.’
As she says that, Bill interrupts. ‘My client has admitted to no such thing. She had no knowledge of the poison, nor of Emily’s intention.’
PC Page is silent for a moment. ‘As I was saying, until we have conclusive evidence that proves that either you did or didn’t administer the poison to Kimberley, we have no choice but to hold you in custody. Ms Rose, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Kimberley Preston. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
Speechless, I turn to Bill. They can’t do this. But he’s ahead of me.
‘Just a moment.’ Bill sounds angry. ‘You can’t hold my client. You already have another suspect in Kimberley’s death.’
‘That’s correct, Mr Merton. But in this case, potentially, we have two.’
Chapter Thirty-Seven
After the paperwork is completed, my fingerprints and DNA sample are taken. Before Bill leaves, he assures me we can work out how we’re going to tackle this.
‘This shouldn’t be happening.’ He looked grim. ‘I’ll do my best to find someone or something to back up your story.’
But as I suffer the indignity of being escorted by a uniformed officer to a cell, Bill’s determination doesn’t stop the feeling of claustrophobia that consumes me. As I step inside, the door is closed behind me. It’s hours until tomorrow. I wonder if Amy is still here or since being charged, she’s been moved somewhere else, as I curse her and her ability to ruin everything for me. Feeling my anger return, I get a hold of myself. I have to believe in Bill, make full use of each one of these hours I’m in here, to think.
Sitting on the narrow bed, closing my eyes, I breathe deeply, trying to centre myself. Shaking off my anger, I tell myself that by tomorrow this will be over; that I’ll load up my car, leave this county and never come back here – not even for my job. It has the desired effect and when I open my eyes again, I’m slightly calmer. Looking around, I study the room, its white painted walls, cheap carpet, the most basic bathroom facilities, aware of how completely closed off from the world I am. Lying back on the bed, I stretch my hands behind my head. Only this morning I was thinking of the future. I never imagined that by this evening, I’d end up here.
*
I sleep fitfully, waking early. The custody process itself wears you down, making you more vulnerable. I’m brought insipid tea and white toast, which I nibble at, only because I know I must fortify myself for what lies ahead. Then I wait, for the sound of approaching footsteps, of other doors being unlocked until at last it’s my turn. This morning, a PC I haven’t met before waits outside the open door. ‘Ms Rose? Would you come with me?’
*
In the interview room, Bill is already there waiting for me. He looks stressed. ‘I’m sorry, Fiona. I didn’t get very far. It isn’t good.’ As he shakes his head, I’m filled with a feeling of foreboding. ‘I don’t know what they have, but …’ As the door opens, he breaks off, then lowers his voice. ‘I think we’re about to find out.’
There’s the usual preamble as PC Page starts the tape, before the DI starts. ‘Ms Rose.’ He settles heavily down in his chair. ‘We’ve been back to Ms Reid’s house – or to clarify for the tape, maybe I should say, the house left to her by her grandmother, Ruth Preston. More specifically, we went to Ms Reid’s workshop. I was interested to know what was in there. You’re probably aware, like her grandmother was, she’s a herbalist. In light of what both you and Ms Reid have said about the potion the two of you concocted all those years ago, I needed to see it for myself.’ His pause is for dramatic effect, keeping me in suspense when all I want is to know what he’s going to say. ‘Of course, we’d already examined the workshop, but that was in relation to Mr Roche’s murder. This time was about Kimberley. Do you remember Amy’s grandmother’s notebook?’
As he stares at me, my skin prickles as a memory surfaces, of small pages scrawled in lines of her grandmother’s handwriting. Entitled with joy, health or similar, all cloyingly benign and well-meaning. ‘Yes.’ I’m silent for a moment. ‘It had her recipes in, if that’s what you call them. She used to go on about intention – and something she called the alchemist’s curse. Some hippy-dippy nonsense about natural forces restoring balance – a bit like karma, I suppose. None of it true, obviously.’ But I’m not as confident as I sound.
PC Page is silent for a moment. ‘I’ve been looking into it. I have a quote taken from her notebook, about how nature perseveres, quite markedly, until balance is restored. Maybe that’s what’s going on now.’
‘I strongly object to this line of questioning.’ Bill sounds adamant. ‘It’s pure speculation. There is no proof that any such thing exists.’
‘I think you’ll find there are plenty of people who’d disagree with you, Mr Merton.’ PC Page shakes her head. ‘And whatever you think, you have to consider the train of events that have led to Ms Rose being here.’ She pauses briefly. ‘If you’ll let me finish … The notebook that belonged to Amy’s grandmother had been added to. In the last pages, she created two more remedies for two specific people. You, Ms Rose, and Amy. I’ve been examining the constituents of each and while they’re similar, there are significant differences. I’ve taken copies of the relevant pages.’
As she hands me two sheets of paper, I stare at the titles: For Emily. Then, For Allie. Then at the lists carefully written beneath in the same handwriting.
PC Page’s voice cuts through my thoughts. ‘I can take you through them, but basically Amy’s is designed to remind her of what happened, to protect her against evil and make sure justice is done – perhaps in the form of the living punishment that her house is. The one for you, however, is different. It’s about hatred, jealousy, recklessness, danger – and justice again. It’s easy enough to read her hidden message. It was you, not Amy, who was the dangerous one. Her only crime was allowing you to sweep her along.’
Beside me, Bill stiffens. ‘That’s outrageous. This is supposition. You can’t possibly use this as proof.’
‘Along with the statements we have from both Ms Rose and Ms Reid, it tells a story,’ DI Lacey talks over him. ‘In the absence of being able to believe what anyone says, we look for clues. This, no question, is one.’
‘There is another remedy.’ PC Page’s voice is quiet. ‘It’s for Kimberley. The meanings are innocence, sorrow, regret, sweetness and purity. Kimberley’s death affected so many lives, and all because of a single act of foolish recklessness.’
It takes every ounce of self-control I can muster to stop myself contradicting her, to tell her not to judge, to walk a hundred miles in someone else’s shoes, until she knows what it’s like.
‘Can I ask what you’ve done in the years since leaving school, Ms Rose?’
I stare back at her. ‘I’ve had various jobs over the years. I wasn’t well qualified when I left school and I had nowhere to go. I had to earn enough to keep a roof over my head.’
‘And you started training as a lawyer when?’ PC Page seems overly interested all of a sudden.
‘Six years ago,’ I say shortly. ‘I wanted to change my life.’
&nb
sp; ‘You’re successful. You work for a good firm. Life must be very different.’
‘It is.’ I frown, wondering what they’re driving at, but then I find out.
‘I would imagine you have far more credibility these days. Wouldn’t you agree?’ DI Lacey’s eyes bore into me. ‘Rather than your flitting around days, going from job to job, struggling to pay the bills.’
‘I didn’t flit around and it wasn’t a struggle.’ I try to sound dignified. ‘I just wanted to prove something to myself. It was about self-respect. And money, too – I won’t lie.’
‘But somewhere at the back of your mind, you must always have known, that as a lawyer, you would have far more credibility than Amy would. Did you always suspect this moment might come? That pitched against each other, each of you with your own version of what really happened, the police would have to decide which one of you was plausible?’
His incisiveness flabbergasts me. This was never supposed to happen. Between me and Amy, there’s no question which of us is most credible. Under the table, I clasp my hands together to stop them shaking, feeling the arguments stacking up against me. ‘That’s hardly the reason to embark on a law degree. It was a major undertaking fitting it around a full-time job.’
As he goes on, his voice is smooth. ‘Perhaps that suggests just how desperate you were, to change the way others perceived you. It was a driving force, wasn’t it? Your hatred of Amy?’
The Vow: the gripping new thriller from a bestselling author - guaranteed to keep you up all night! Page 23
