by K. L. Slater
When the opportunity at the academy trust had presented itself, she had welcomed the slower pace with open arms.
Her newly painted office, with its comfy upholstered chairs, potted plant and coffee machine, had helped soften the edges of the uncomfortable subjects she often had to raise in there.
Little did she know that it was the place where her professional unravelling would begin, followed swiftly by her personal life.
It was in this job she’d become involved in the case of Collette Strang and the death of her best friend.
An abrupt click, and a door opening to the left of the front desk shook her out of her thoughts. She stood up and smiled as the tall, broad figure of Conor Neary advanced towards her.
‘Dana! Am I glad to see you.’ He gripped her hand in both of his and squeezed it gratefully. ‘Come on through.’
She followed him down a corridor and into an office. He closed the door behind them, gesturing for her to sit the other side of the paper-strewn desk.
‘Before we start, I just want to say thanks. For taking the case, I mean.’ He pinched the skin between his eyebrows and squeezed his eyes closed momentarily. ‘I know you’ve had it rough yourself and this is going to be a difficult one—’
It was painful, witnessing him walking on eggshells like this. Trying to select the least offensive words. It wasn’t his style at all.
‘It’s fine, Conor. Honestly. I can’t remember the last time I’ve thought about anything apart from that damn inquiry, but since your call, I’ve been absorbed in researching events so far online. It makes sober reading.’
Fifteen
Neary leaned forward, lacing his fingers together and resting his elbows on the desk, and began his brief on where the investigation stood thus far. Dana took out a pad and pen from her handbag to make some brief notes.
‘Our only hope is to get the girls talking. When forensics come back it will be all too easy for the powers-that-be to insist we arrest both of them. This really is our last chance to make a breakthrough.’ He sighed. ‘We’ve told the parents not to say anything to the girls about Bessie dying for now. It could scupper our chances of getting them to open up.’
Dana tipped her head to the side and studied the detective.
‘Interesting,’ she murmured.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ The colour in his cheeks rose and he assumed a playful tone, but there was a slight edge to it. ‘If you’ve got something to say, Dr Sewell, then say it. Don’t go using your special insights on me.’
Dana had known Conor long enough to see that something was bothering him. It was as plain as the nose on his face.
‘In all the time I’ve known you, I can’t say you’ve ever dithered once a case seemed tied up, but despite placing the girls firmly at the scene, establishing they were both covered in Bessie Wilford’s blood and now having a reliable witness to boot, here you are giving them one more chance.’
Conor Neary was a fair man, and in Dana’s opinion, a good man. He’d told her once that his job boiled down to something quite simple: he had to ensure that justice was done. Namely, that the right person paid for whatever crime had been committed.
The fact that he’d pleaded with her to take this on so soon after the inquiry spoke volumes to Dana about the profile of the case.
But somewhere along the line, he was troubled by the apparent guilt of the girls. That much was obvious.
‘I suppose what I’m saying is, how about you tell me what you’re really thinking?’
A sardonic smile played around Neary’s mouth.
‘I feel like I just got a timely reminder why I’ve stuck my neck out to get you in here,’ he sighed. ‘And I admit I’m guilty as charged. Something doesn’t add up, though it’s just a gut feeling at the moment. The evidence against them is the only thing the boss is going to be interested in when I meet with her later today.’
He picked up a pen and tapped out a staccato rhythm on the desk before laying it down again.
‘We’ve got to find out from the kids exactly what happened in that house, Dana.’ He fixed his red-rimmed eyes on her. ‘The super isn’t going to let me wait around forever. The press are frenzied, the locals are already baying for blood. I’m not going to be able to shield the girls for much longer.’
She nodded, understanding. He slid two slim brown wallet folders, each with a typed white sticker on it, across the desk to her.
‘There’s one for each girl. It’s everything we’ve got on them so far, their families too. There are official records in there, and observations provided by the school, plus additional notes from preliminary interviews.’
Dana pressed her lips together and slid the folders back over to him.
‘I’ll let you know when I need these,’ she said.
He frowned. ‘Surely you want to avail yourself of—’
‘I will read them, but not yet. These folders are filled with other people’s thoughts and opinions. I’d rather start by meeting the girls myself, make my own first impression of them.’
As the detective nodded in understanding, Dana silently acknowledged that her intuition had got her into trouble more times than she cared to recall, including that last case, which had brought about her suspension from duty. She also knew that despite there being right and wrong procedures to follow, her powerful gut feeling was rarely wrong.
‘Point taken,’ Neary said. He gathered up the folders and placed them in a pedestal drawer, out of Dana’s sight. ‘Let’s go and meet the families.’
Sixteen
Juliet
DS March’s words ricochet around my head.
I’m afraid we’re now looking at a murder inquiry.
I don’t feel the heat of panic like my sister. I feel cold and detached when I think about how this situation could escalate.
I’ve seen it so many times on television as I’ve sat on the sofa with coffee and a biscuit, watching as the family of the accused proclaim their relative’s innocence.
They always sound deluded.
Only this morning, I was loading the dishwasher, planning the evening meal, putting on the laundry I should have set going last night.
Now our precious daughters are in danger of being charged with murder. If that happens, they will never shrug off the stigma. Even if it’s proven at some stage that they were wrongly charged, things will never be as they were.
It will raise its head again and again their whole lives, through sly nudges, unsuccessful job applications, friends who fade away… I’m trying so hard to process it, but it’s proving impossible. The thought that life as we knew it could collapse so completely in a day is utterly crazy.
Ten minutes ago, Dad took Mum over the road to Costa. Chloe isn’t in the mood for talking and has been immersed in her phone and I’m just staring at the walls, wondering if Tom has picked up Josh safely. I thought he might have texted me.
The door opens and I sit up straight. Neary walks in, and a tall woman in her early forties enters the room behind him. She’s wearing black trousers and a silky green blouse that complements her short copper-coloured hair and pale skin. She smiles pleasantly at us all. I’m the only one who smiles back.
Neary clears his throat. ‘Juliet, Chloe, I’d like to introduce you to Dana Sewell, a brilliant family therapist I’ve known and worked with for many years now.’
Her name sounds familiar but I can’t think why.
We all shake hands, and as we sit down, I notice that her face and forearms are heavily patterned with freckles.
‘Good to meet you,’ she says in a local accent.
‘Dana has kindly agreed at short notice to come and speak to Maddy and Brianna,’ Neary tells us. ‘We’re hoping she can break through the girls’ silence. It isn’t helping either of them. Do you have any questions?’
‘What do you think you can do to get through to them that we haven’t thought of?’ Chloe asks in a belligerent tone. ‘If the girls won’t even speak to us, their
own mothers, I don’t see why they’ll be any different with you.’
‘At this stage, I can’t promise anything at all.’ Dana moves her hands around gently as she speaks. ‘I plan to start by meeting the girls and hopefully establishing some sort of initial relationship.’
My fingers loosen their grip on the sides of the chair. Her voice is soothing, somehow. She’s the kind of person I think I could trust.
‘And that’s it?’ Chloe gives a disparaging grunt. ‘This is the genius strategy that we’re hanging our hopes on?’
‘Dana has a bit of a head start in that she’s local to the village and has worked at the school your daughters attend,’ Neary offers and I realise I must have heard her name mentioned on a school newsletter. ‘They may well recognise her as a friendly face, and she’s known for her unique ability to quickly form relationships with young people.’
Chloe frowns and peers closer at Dana, as if she’s trying to match her face with a picture in her mind. ‘You’re not that school therapist they had to fire last year, are you?’
Now I remember! Beth, always an expert on local gossip, had told me about a woman who worked at a handful of local schools, including ours. She had overstepped the mark and been struck off, or something similar.
‘She sounds quite a maverick,’ Beth had remarked at the time.
‘I was suspended, not dismissed,’ Dana replies calmly. ‘And I’ve now been fully cleared of any wrongdoing.’
‘Well I’m sorry, but I don’t want her anywhere near Brianna.’ Chloe folds her arms and stares stonily at the opposite wall.
Dana’s face flushes pink, but she doesn’t respond. I cringe inwardly at Chloe’s overt rudeness.
‘Juliet?’ Neary sighs. ‘What’s your view on this?’
‘Why do you think the girls have stopped speaking?’ I ask Dana. Nobody has actually given an opinion on it.
‘There could be lots of reasons – fear, rebellion, anger – but we feel it’s far more constructive simply to get them talking again rather than worry about why they’re choosing not to communicate.’
Chloe gives a derisory sniff, frustration seeming to etch deeper the tiny lines around her mouth and eyes.
‘I welcome anyone who can help us get the girls home, and I think my husband will feel the same way,’ I say honestly. I feel Chloe’s searing glance in my direction and turn to look at her. ‘If Maddy and Brianna recognise Dana from school, they might just trust her enough to open up to someone independent. Someone who’s neither their parent nor a police officer.’
‘That’s my hope too,’ Dana says warmly. ‘We’ve probably got two very frightened and confused little girls who think they’ll get into even more trouble if they speak out of turn. Hopefully I can coax them to help themselves.’
‘Brianna has already indicated through her silence and tears that she’s confused and terrified,’ Chloe says icily. ‘I doubt she’s suddenly going to relax and open up.’
‘We’ll see about that,’ Dana said in a friendly but firm manner. ‘Now, I just want to ask you a bit about the girls. What they love, what they dislike… all very easy stuff but could be crucial in the interview.’
After chatting to Dana a bit about the girls, we’re led from Room 15A down the corridor into the viewing room. It’s a small, windowless space, with one wall made entirely of glass, so we can see everything in the interview suite. ‘When the girls are in here, you’ll be able to see them and hear everything too. You’re entitled to sit in with them during the session, but they’re used to Carol now, and we hope you’ll agree it may be better initially to keep them focused on the therapist.’
‘Fine, but if Brianna gets upset, I want to be with her,’ Chloe says in a clipped voice.
‘Me too,’ I add.
‘Of course.’ Neary nods. ‘I appreciate you both agreeing to this.’
I text Tom to say what’s happening and to ask if Josh is OK. I also text Beth to tell her about Dana Sewell’s involvement in the case now I remember she’s the one who told me the gossip in the first place. Movement through the glass pulls my attention away from my phone. Carol walks into the room holding the girls’ hands, one each side of her.
She leads them to a low round table with several chairs set in the middle of the room.
I want to bang on the glass so that Maddy knows I’m here, but instead I close my eyes and offer up a silent prayer that Neary’s plan works and our girls finally tell us what happened in Bessie Wilford’s house.
Seventeen
The police station
Dana entered the comfortable family interview suite from the corridor, where the two girls were waiting in upholstered chairs. Carol sat slightly set back from the interview grouping.
The children were now dressed in their own clothes their grandparents had brought in from their house. The girl on the left, Maddy Fletcher, wore dark pink leggings and a long lemon and pink striped sweater. Her dark hair was gathered in a loose ponytail, framing a pale, slightly chubby face.
Brianna Voce was wearing a floral long-sleeved dress with ankle socks and trainers. Her slim legs were lightly tanned and she had a sportier look about her than her cousin, with her sun-kissed caramel-brown hair pulled back into a high ponytail.
Dana had been told there was just a couple of months between the cousins in age, but Brianna looked older, more poised somehow.
Before he’d taken her to meet Juliet and Chloe, Neary had furnished Dana with more information on the case, including some disturbing photographs of a badly injured Bessie Wilford taken as officers arrived at the crime scene.
The image of the old woman’s neat grey hair matted with clumps of blood and brain matter would stay with her a long time.
Looking at the girls now, she knew she must eradicate the gruesome images from her mind. The only way to reach the truth was to start with a clean slate, to form her own crucially untainted opinion.
She had seen some horrific things in the ten years she’d worked with troubled youngsters – violent deeds, family abuse and acts of delinquency at a relatively young age – but her mind struggled to pair these two innocent-looking children with the vicious attack on great-grandmother Bessie.
‘Hello, girls.’ She sat down in the empty chair she’d asked to be positioned facing Maddy and Brianna across the low round coffee table. It was vital she keep the interaction as low-key and friendly as possible, and to that end she didn’t offer a handshake, but smiled at both children instead.
The girls fidgeted in their seats and Maddy glanced briefly at Carol, but neither child returned Dana’s greeting.
Still, her entrance had already told her something.
When she’d stepped into the room, Brianna’s eyes had widened fractionally and fixed on her just a beat longer than was absolutely necessary. It suggested recognition, possibly from Dana’s visits to school, and as far as she was concerned, recognition was a very good start when it came to gaining trust.
‘First of all, I want to introduce myself. My name is Dana Sewell and I live in the same village you do. In fact, you may even recognise me, because I sometimes come to your school to talk to children there.’
Brianna’s expression remained stony, while Maddy’s heel began to bounce lightly on the floor.
These were the jewels that came from studying body language. In seconds, a single gesture or movement could tell a story of a thousand words. It was the reason Dana had asked to see the girls together without their parents present.
With no familiar adults in the room, she hoped to begin to garner an early impression of the relationship between the two young cousins. Irrespective of their backgrounds, when two juveniles carried out a deviant act together, it was highly likely that one of them was influential in the relationship.
She filled the silence with some additional information about herself.
‘I want you to know I’m not a police officer or a teacher. I’m not a social worker or a doctor, either. I’m a family therapist, which
means I’m here to help you and your parents and grandparents in any way I can.’
She turned her palms upwards and rested her hands on her knees. She was ultra-aware of her own body placement, careful not to cross her arms or legs in a defensive or threatening manner. She had also ensured that the seating area was arranged informally.
It didn’t seem like much, but it was important to avoid subconscious barriers that might prevent the girls from opening up. The smallest details could stop them feeling they had the freedom to communicate in a way they had been unable to do so far with the other authority figures, including their own parents. Dana intended calling on every tiny trick in her considerable arsenal of experience to help her build rapport quickly.
‘I know you must be feeling scared and confused,’ she said gently. ‘That’s completely natural, but I’m here to help you help yourselves, if that makes sense. We can start to sort all this out, and we can do it together. The three of us. Does that sound OK?’
Maddy twisted her fingers together before stuffing her hands under her thighs. Brianna stared at Dana and blinked rapidly. It wasn’t the verbal communication she’d hoped for, but it was a response of sorts and she felt a flicker of hope.
All signs of communication, no matter how tiny, must be logged and considered.
She assumed a pleasant but neutral expression, looking from one girl to the other in a relaxed manner. She wanted to give them space whilst encouraging them to feel safe in her presence. In a strange place, with a police officer still in the room, it wasn’t the easiest task.
‘A nod is fine,’ she said so softly it was almost a whisper. ‘Just so I know you both understand what I’ve said.’
But there was no response from either child.
Dana stood up and walked past Carol, over to the small window.
She lifted a couple of slats in the venetian blind and peered out at the car park with its small green verge and the red-brick housing estate beyond.
