by Carol Wyer
The nose-blowing stops and he is brought back to the present. He’s in the headmaster’s office, his mother in one of the two voluminous chairs opposite the headmaster. He, however, is standing upright, hands behind his back. He’s guilty of a crime.
‘I can’t think what got into him,’ says his mother, as if he weren’t in the room. ‘He’s normally very gentle. A gentle giant,’ she adds and tries to smile at Mr Gordon. Mr Gordon never smiles and he isn’t about to start now.
‘If Miss Tideswell hadn’t heard the commotion, heaven knows what would have happened.’
His mother shakes her head. ‘That’s ridiculous. He’s only ten years old. He isn’t likely to have caused much damage. The girl is exaggerating the entire affair out of all proportion. He’s not got a malicious bone in his body.’
‘Nobody is saying that. I’m merely suggesting the boy doesn’t know his own strength and it will be best if he keeps right away from the girls in his class. It will be better if he stays in the classroom during playtime for a couple of weeks at least, and then we’ll reassess the situation.’
‘That’s outrageous. You can’t keep him cooped up like a prisoner. He’s a little boy. He needs to go outside and enjoy fresh air. Besides, it’ll ostracise him further from his classmates if you single him out and keep him inside every day.’
The headmaster considers the logic of what the boy’s mother is saying, and although the boy doesn’t understand what ‘ostracise’ means, he knows she’s on his side. He never meant to hurt Sherry. He’d wanted to check if her hair felt the same as the doll’s hair, and when he’d spotted her sitting alone on one of the benches in the class cloakroom, in front of a row of duffel coats, he’d never meant to frighten her. He’d crept up behind her, intending only to briefly stroke the golden curtain that hung to her hips, but she’d sensed his presence, leapt to her feet and started screaming. Miss Tideswell had rushed in, followed by half the class and Sherry’s friends who’d stared at him with big googly eyes, hiding behind each other while Sherry had sobbed.
He might have got away with it had her friends, Gail Shore and Kitty Francis, not told Miss Tideswell he’d been watching all of them doing handstands from behind the wall. They said he was always staring at Sherry, especially on the school bus going home, and it was beginning to scare her.
He’d been questioned but refused to respond. What could he say? He wouldn’t hurt Sherry. He just wanted her to like him. He couldn’t tell them he had a doll that looked just like her and he wanted to know if her hair felt like the doll’s hair. Everyone would laugh at him. Better to let them think he was scary. Then, the teasing wouldn’t happen.
‘Why?’ His mother is speaking to him.
‘I only wanted to be friendly,’ he says, letting crocodile tears fall down his cheeks. His mother sighs heavily. ‘See. He’s a lonely boy and keeping him inside at playtimes won’t help.’
The headmaster seems surprised by the crying and confession and reluctantly agrees to let him keep his playtimes as long as he promises not to go near the girls’ area and never to sneak up on a girl again.
He nods, letting the tears dampen his cheeks. His mother lends him a clean handkerchief – one with violets on – and he blows his nose on it noisily, all the while thinking about Sherry’s face. She was so scared of him. It made him feel powerful.
Ten
WEDNESDAY, 26 APRIL – LATE NIGHT
Lucy stretched languidly and attempted to stifle a yawn. Natalie, bent over paperwork, noticed the act and glanced at her watch. It was coming up to eleven. It had been a harrowing night. They’d examined the video footage Murray had filmed at the crime scene. The sight of Audrey’s body in the party dress had stunned them all into silence for quite some time.
At the moment, Lucy was concentrating on CCTV footage in and around the park, checking movements of individuals there at the time and trying to establish identities, while Murray searched through ANPR cameras, noting registrations and owner details for each vehicle that passed the park entrance at around the time of Audrey’s disappearance. Natalie and Ian were digging through the pile of statements they’d acquired and were attempting to piece together the route Audrey had taken after she left the house at 4.50 p.m. Using a map of Queen’s Avenue on her laptop, they worked their way through the possibilities.
‘There are ninety houses on Queen’s Avenue and seventy-four of them are located between number 75, where the Briggses live, and the local shop. Out of those, how many residents were at home at the time she disappeared?’ asked Natalie.
Ian ran through the list. ‘Only fifteen houses in total were occupied and nobody saw Audrey ride past in the direction of the shop.’ He pointed out the convenience store situated at a junction between Queen’s Avenue and Jackson’s Road. ‘The only witness who can confirm any movements is an unemployed woman, Denise Roberts, who lives at number 73, two doors down from the Briggses. She remembered seeing Caroline’s car pull up at about quarter or ten to five, and heard the car doors slamming. Said the baby was screaming its head off. She was at her kitchen sink at the time. Shortly after that, she received a phone call and moved into the sitting room to take it and didn’t see Audrey go past on her bike.’
‘If Audrey headed in that direction somebody ought to have seen her. What about if she turned left and not right out of her house?’
‘She’d have passed fifteen houses and ended up at a junction leading onto a dual carriageway. Again, we have no sightings of her.’
‘How many houses actually face the park entrance?’
‘The road curves at that point, so only numbers 91, 92 and 93 have frontages that actually overlook that part of the park. Out of those houses, only one of the residents, Ned Coleman, who lives at number 91, was at home at the time. I spoke to him. He’s sixty-eight years old and slightly deaf. He was watching television and doesn’t recall looking out of his window. He knows the Briggs family and was quite upset to learn about Audrey. Said she was an engaging girl who sometimes spoke to him and made a big fuss of his dog if she saw him out walking it.’
‘She was obsessed with dogs. Her own got knocked down in that road. How well did Ned know the family?’
‘Difficult to say for sure, but I don’t think he knew them too well.’
‘Okay. Run a check on him all the same. Nothing else useful from the statements you got?’
He pulled a face and rubbed a hand across his five o’clock shadow. ‘Pretty much all say the same thing. Nobody saw Audrey. Many didn’t even know the Briggs family.’ He opened his palms. ‘For goodness’ sake, this is a street occupied by God knows how many people. How can nobody have seen a thing? It’s a real sign of our times, isn’t it? People simply don’t know who their own neighbours are any more, or care. Doesn’t make this job any easier, does it?’
‘We’ve got technology on our side,’ said Natalie with a gentle smile. ‘We’ll track down the owners of all the cars passing the park at around that time and question them about what they saw. There’ll be a television appeal and the press will be supportive. You saw the increasing number of floral tributes outside the Briggs’ home. The public will be behind them on this and will want to help track down whoever is responsible.’
Her mobile buzzed, piercing the quiet of the office. It was Ben Hargreaves, the pathologist. He sounded weary.
‘Thought you should know I passed Ava Sawyer on to Naomi for examination earlier today. There’s far too much tissue damage and deterioration for me to establish cause of death. Naomi might be able to fare better.’
‘You couldn’t determine if cause of death was natural or not?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
There was a brief pause and rustling before he spoke again. ‘We’ve just completed the autopsy on Audrey Briggs. Firstly, there appears to have been no sexual interference. For the record, she was wearing a black ballet leotard and pink tights under the dress. They don’t appear to have been touched. There is no DNA or fluids in or on her bod
y. There are no defence wounds on her hands or face but there is slight grazing on her knees and hands and light scratch marks on the inside of her arms. There are also patches of discolouration around her neck along with a distinctive ligature mark across her throat. More importantly, there are signs of mechanical violence: bruising to the tissues and a fracture of her larynx. There is no sign of a struggle: no fingernail marks where she might have attempted to remove any restraint, or other markings usually associated with struggling to escape, suggesting she was rendered unconscious very quickly. I would therefore assume she was either taken unawares or attacked with such strength she didn’t know what was happening and unable to offer any resistance. To conclude, Audrey Briggs died of asphyxiation caused by strangulation. We had to eliminate other causes of asphyxia death before we could be certain but there’s no doubt she was strangled.’
‘Any idea what was used to strangle her?’
‘It’s not my field of expertise. Again, I’d bow to Naomi’s judgement on this. I’ll pass the body across to her. Sorry I couldn’t be of more help.’
‘You’ve been very helpful. Thank you, Ben.’
Ben seemed surprised at the praise. ‘You’re welcome,’ he blurted before hanging up.
Natalie faced her team. ‘Right, we know for sure Audrey was murdered and we’ll continue to treat Ava’s death as suspicious. Bearing that in mind, I think we ought to look at any connections between Audrey and Ava, and examine the lives of these two girls. Something or somebody connects them and we need to ascertain who or what that is. I propose we start with the most obvious – the birthday party at Uptown Craft Centre in July 2015. Both girls attended it and Audrey was aware Ava left the games to go to the toilet. There’s a lot to consider and I don’t think we should purely focus on the party at this stage. I want to make sure we examine all avenues. For now, I’m going to call it a night and suggest we reconvene at eight a.m.’
She shuffled her paperwork into order and smiled her thanks at each of her team as they trooped towards the door.
David was still awake in bed when Natalie got in. He removed his glasses and put aside the book he’d been reading.
‘It’s very late,’ she said as she peeled off her clothes and removed her lenses. ‘You should be asleep.’
‘I wasn’t tired. Besides, I wanted to see if you were okay. There was a report about a missing girl on the late news.’
She came out of the bathroom and flopped onto the side of the bed. ‘Audrey Briggs. Her body’s been found now. She was friends with Ava Sawyer and was at the party in 2015 when Ava went missing.’
‘Oh, I’m really sorry. Is that relevant?’
‘I think it might be… I don’t know. It’s all… pretty crap.’
‘Come here.’
‘I haven’t cleaned my teeth yet.’
‘Come here,’ he urged, throwing back the duvet.
She slid into the cool sheets and he drew her to his chest, arms around her. His body was warm and he smelt of citrus fruits. She allowed him to hold her, knowing she ought to draw comfort from his concern. She should feel affection and even love at such a tender act, but all she could think of was Mike and his team, still searching around the body of a little girl in a party dress.
Eleven
THURSDAY, 27 APRIL – MORNING
Morning couldn’t come quickly enough for Natalie. What little sleep she got had been punctuated with visions of a young girl tied to a chair, alone in an abandoned warehouse. The nightmares associated with Olivia Chester’s murder had plagued her every night for months and had only gradually withdrawn to the recesses of her brain, thanks to the intense therapy she’d undergone. Now they were back. She had to shrug off the dire feeling that accompanied them. She wouldn’t be able to function properly if she dwelled on the failures of the past.
At the first sign of light, she’d propped herself up on one elbow and studied her sleeping husband on his back, mouth slightly open. He’d woken several times thanks to her restlessness but hadn’t complained. It wasn’t easy being married to a detective. She resolved to take some leave after this case to work on their marriage. It required more effort on her part if it was to survive.
The urge to escape her thoughts became overwhelming. Some days they closed in on her so much she wanted to hide from the world…
‘What frightens you most about these nightmares?’
‘The silence. Olivia looks at me, accusingly, yet says nothing. I beg her to forgive me but she continues to stare as if I’m the person solely responsible for her death.’
‘We both know your superiors made the decisions that resulted in the death of Olivia Chester. You were not culpable.’
‘I was part of that investigation and the team. I thought they were handling it incorrectly and I ought to have been more vocal. I might have dissuaded them from their decisions.’
‘You can’t spend your life blaming yourself, Natalie.’
‘But I do. Answer me this: how can I prevent myself from feeling such guilt? Some days it’s unbearable. I wake up after one of these dreams and can’t breathe. Last night, I ran a bath. I was so tired I dozed off in the water and suddenly her face appeared, drifting in front of my eyes. I woke with a start and found myself fully submerged underwater, and surprisingly, it felt right. I didn’t want to surface. I wanted to rest there and allow the real world to drift away. I remained underwater, relishing the tranquillity and becoming comfortably numb. It was a heaven-sent release. I stayed like that until I ran out of breath and some animal instinct took over and I came up for air.’
‘How did you feel when you emerged?’
‘Better. Calmer. For a short while.’
‘You might benefit from some breathing techniques that will help de-stress you. We’ll schedule you an appointment and go through some with you.’
She crept from the bedroom to the landing and into the bathroom, where she ran the taps, staring at her reflection while she waited for the tub to fill. Her eyes didn’t see the woman in the mirror. Instead they saw two little girls in yellow dresses. There was a significant connection between Audrey and Ava. It was far too great a coincidence that the day after they’d uncovered Ava’s body, another girl who’d attended the birthday party at Uptown Craft Centre had turned up dead. The dress was a major clue. She’d pursue that angle and also go back over the Ava Sawyer files.
She climbed into the bath, allowing the heat to soothe the tension in her muscles. She wasn’t a shower person. David was. He much preferred to use the shower cubicle in their en-suite than soak in a bath. She shared the bathroom with the children and there were reminders of them everywhere she looked: toothbrushes in mugs, Leigh’s collection of shampoo and bath gels in multicoloured bottles that completely covered the table by the sink, and Josh’s Manchester United football towel, now a faded pink rather than red, hanging from a peg on the back of the door. She thought again of the named coat pegs in the Briggs’ house. She’d have to talk to the parents again today. She sighed at the daunting prospect and ducked further into the water until she was fully immersed and such thoughts no longer plagued her, trying to hold her breath as long as possible and listening only to her heartbeat.
When she finally emerged from the bathroom, she felt better prepared for the day. David was no longer in bed. She dried her hair quickly and scraped it back into a functional short ponytail. She pulled on the same trousers from the day before and a clean white shirt, and then applied a minimum amount of make-up, enough to look pleasant. Her mother had taught her the ‘less is more’ principle, a fact she’d taken to heart. She’d always been the plain Jane in the family, and while her sister had applied false eyelashes and spent hours painting her toenails and going out clubbing, Natalie had buried herself in her books. She shook away thoughts of Frances, her estranged sister. She was relegated to the past.
Downstairs, Josh, still in pyjamas, was shovelling cereal into his mouth and simultaneously staring at his phone. He acknowledged her presenc
e with a grunt. David had made the tea and was spreading marmalade on his toast.
‘Fancy a piece?’ he asked.
‘Not hungry,’ she replied, emptying the teapot into her mug and adding milk.
‘How’s school, Josh?’ she asked.
He rolled his eyes. ‘Same old,’ he mumbled.
‘Dad and I had another talk about those trainers you want. If your grades are decent again at the end of this term, we’ll buy them for you.’
‘Really?’ He looked up from the screen, abandoning the purple balls he was chasing.
‘Yeah, why not?’ she replied.
‘Cool. Thanks.’ He stood up, stuck his bowl in the sink and sauntered off.
‘One happy son,’ she said over the rim of her mug.
‘Happiest I’ve seen him look for a few days. Any sign of Leigh?’
‘Nothing when I came downstairs. Want me to go shake her?’
‘I’ll do it. What time are you going in?’
‘Eight.’
‘And you’re still here?’
‘I thought I owed you at least five minutes before I disappeared. Don’t know what time I’ll be back.’
He shrugged a reply and ate his toast in silence. He’d been in this situation before, many times. ‘I’ll cope,’ he said eventually.
‘I’ll wake Leigh and get off.’
‘Leave her. I’ll do it,’ he said again, a note of sharpness creeping into his voice. She took it as her cue to depart, and placing the empty mug next to Josh’s bowl, pecked David on the cheek and headed off.
