by K. L. Slater
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.
It was warm outside, oppressively so. The grey clouds hung heavy and low, and she could feel the heat of the sun trying to beat a path through. A downpour was needed. Something dramatic that could break up the humidity.
Behind her, the girls would be watching, trying to get the measure of her. They were possibly even glancing at each other. Silently communicating in some way.
The detectives in the viewing room would be watching for that, and Dana would be able to review the CCTV tape herself afterwards, which should hopefully offer up further clues.
After all, she had to bear in mind that these were ten-year-old girls, not hardened criminals or expert psychologists. They would make mistakes in ways they weren’t even aware of, mistakes that would assist Dana in her quest to find out what had happened at Bessie Wilford’s house that morning.
She stood at the window a few moments longer to allow the girls time to absorb just how ordinary she was. The fact Dana wore no uniform or official badges and there was no note-taking or awkward questions.
The message she was sending was a resolute no threat.
Thirty seconds later, she released the blind, the crack of the hard plastic slats fracturing the room’s eerie silence like a gunshot.
As she walked slowly back to her seat, neither girl met her eyes.
‘Fidget and Jasper,’ Dana said simply. She sat down and inspected her short, unpolished nails.
Both girls’ heads jerked towards her. Finally she had their attention.
Eighteen
Dana took her time, allowed a little space so the girls could think about what she’d just said.
‘Nice names. Unusual names for pets. When I was your age, I had a cat and her name was Tabby. All the cats seemed to be called Tabby back then.’ She grinned. ‘I was wondering how you came up with those names?’
Silence, but their eyes remained on her.
‘Fidget. I know he’s a hamster, but does he belong to you, Maddy? Or perhaps he’s your pet, Brianna?’
Juliet Fletcher had told her in the few minutes they chatted in Room 15A that Maddy thought the world of her hamster; that she’d had to forbid her daughter to get up in the middle of the night to talk to him.
‘Not that it did any good,’ she had added. ‘She still does it most nights anyway. Even more so since she’s not been sleeping so well.’
Maddy’s chest moved faster. Her breathing had clearly sped up. She was keen to hear how her pet was.
‘And I know Jasper is a dog. A Staffie, I think. Is he yours, Brianna?’ Dana paused, watched as Brianna pressed her lips together as if she was physically preventing words from slipping out of her mouth. ‘It’s a lovely friendly name, Jasper. I really like it.’
She allowed a few more moments of silence before she put them out of their misery.
‘Well, I want you to know that I checked with your families, and Jasper and Fidget are doing fine.’ She saw both girls exhale. ‘I’m sure they’re really missing you and want you back home as soon as possible. That’s another reason I want to help you to help the police understand what happened today. I want to get you back home to your pets.’
Maddy’s eyes shone, threatening tears, but she blinked until they cleared. Brianna stared down at the floor, her hands laced in front of her, one thumbnail carving into the soft skin at the bottom of her index finger.
‘Maddy, Brianna, you’re both intelligent girls. I don’t need to tell you how serious this situation is. You must understand that saying nothing at all can only make things worse.’
Dana’s favoured interview method was short but regular interactions. She now felt she’d reached the potential of this first interview, and despite the girls’ continuing silence, she would count it as being a positive start.
There were results to be tallied here. Both children had shown signs of emotion, and they had clearly responded non-verbally when their pets were mentioned. Yet there was nothing at all yet to separate the two of them.
The clock was ticking and Neary’s superiors were getting twitchy. But there was still time for a breakthrough.
Patience was key.
* * *
When she’d finished writing up her notes following the interview, Dana went to Neary’s office to review the visual recording.
A relieved-looking Conor patted her on the back. ‘It went well; there are already signs of improvement there. The pet thing was genius. I know that if anyone can get to the truth, you can.’
The hair above his ears stuck out at odd angles, he had a coffee spill on his tie and his eyes were red-rimmed. The last thing Dana wanted was to rain on his parade, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. She had to speak up.
‘There’s something else I want to try.’ She hesitated. ‘Something’s just not sitting right.’
‘You want to speak to the girls individually?’ He ran his fingers through his hair. ‘I think that’s a good idea, but you want my honest opinion? You’ve nearly cracked them, so I think you should apply a bit more pressure. We’re fast running out of—’
‘That’s not it,’ Dana interrupted. ‘I mean, I do still want to speak to them alone, I think it’s important, but before that, I want to talk to the family. All of them, together. I suspect the fact that the girls have been so stubbornly silent is a symptom of something far bigger. In my opinion, this is a family that’s holding secrets, operating within invisible boundaries. The answers to our questions about what happened in that house lie there.’
‘I’m only interested in what happened to Bessie Wilford.’ Neary frowned. ‘I’ve neither the time nor the inclination to get bogged down in family politics.’
‘It’s not about that.’ Dana pressed on. ‘Kids pick up so much stuff without us noticing. I suspect we’re dealing with a highly dysfunctional family unit here.’
‘The family seem perfectly normal to me.’ He shook his head dismissively. ‘They’re bound to be stressed and act a little odd at a time like this.’
‘I agree, any family would be stressed given the situation,’ Dana said. ‘But trust me, Conor, this is not any family. This is a family that’s hiding something. I can feel it in the spaces between their words and the odd dynamic between them all. This may be our only chance to find out what.’
* * *
Dana had been meaning to start back at the gym regularly for months now but hadn’t managed it yet, just the occasional visit. She was tied in to an eighteen-month contract so had been forced to continue the monthly payments even though she hadn’t used the facilities enough to justify the expense. It bugged her every time she checked her bank statement.
There always seemed to be a sound reason not to go as planned: something she wanted to watch on TV, an important task she needed to get done at home like wash the tea towels. She was aware of all the ways her lack of confidence after the job ordeal showed itself but it didn’t make it any easier to deal with it.
When she left the police station, she made a snap decision and drove to the gym rather than back home. Her packed workout bag had been in the boot for weeks, a habit Orla had encouraged her to adopt.
It had been over three years since Orla had moved back to Dublin. Dana had been very sad their relationship broke up but in the end, they’d wanted different things and they had both agreed it was for the best.
Strangely, it was the break-up and a rare gym visit that had paved the way for her meeting Lizzie.
She parked up and walked into the large, airy reception of the gym, striding purposefully with her bag, hoping the nervousness didn’t show on her face. She waved her membership card at the electronic monitor, a beep sounded, a green light lit up and she walked through the turnstile; it felt like she’d never been away.
Her mood lifted as she headed for the smart changing rooms with the piped music.
After she changed and deposited her bag in a locker, she walked to the spinning room and chose a bike on the third row back. The class was nearly full and there was a pleasant buzz which made Dana feel at home, even though she didn’t actually speak to anyone.
It reminded her of the day she met Lizzie here.
The music started for the warm-up and Dana had felt exhilarated. She’d done it! Such great strides in one day: there had been a visit to the station to discuss a forthcoming job with Conor Neary, and now the gym. Life had felt good for the first time in a long time.
A woman had entered the class late, selecting the spare bike next to her.
Just as the music ramped up, the woman had slipped, nearly falling off the equipment. Dana had jumped off her own bike and quickly adjusted the seat height and handlebars for her so she was able to complete the class.
‘Thanks,’ the woman had told her at the end of class. ‘That could’ve been so embarrassing. I’m Lizzie.’
‘Dana.’ She’d shook her small, warm hand.
The woman was diminutive, with a sad air about her, and she had the most incredible amber-flecked brown eyes that complemented her caramel-coloured hair perfectly. Dana remembered thinking she looked like the kind of person who could do with someone to lean on.
Over lattes and polite conversation in the gym café that Lizzie insisted on buying, Dana had felt herself melt a little inside.
Was it too much to hope that her life was finally back on track?
Nineteen
Juliet
All the rooms in this place are faceless, and I sit in one of them now with Chloe, waiting for Carol to bring the girls through to see us.
I didn’t recognise Maddy in that interview; Brianna either, for that matter. Our girls are usually so full of energy and life; it’s a constant battle to get a word in edgeways when the two of them are together.
And now… now, they won’t make a sound, even though at times I can see Maddy battling to swallow down the words.
The only thing that makes sense is that they are traumatised. But how, why…? We think we know our children so well, but is it possible that they are actually capable of such a terrible crime?
I once read a magazine article about how to spot the signs of a killer in childhood. I remember it was in the dentist’s surgery, a way of passing ten minutes’ waiting time when I got there early. Never for a second did I suspect that such subject matter would ever apply to my family.
Setting fires, hurting small animals, uncontrollable aggression and general callousness were all mentioned amongst other horrible behaviours that I felt relieved my daughter had never displayed.
Maddy is a kind girl. She loves her family, loves animals and has shown no aggressive or dangerous behaviours that could possibly indicate that anything is amiss.
Could I ever imagine her hurting an elderly lady? Never in a million years.
Likewise, I’m certain Brianna has never displayed any such awful tendencies, although in my opinion, she isn’t as placid a personality as Maddy. I’ve seen her swing in the space of a few minutes from acting upset and crying to breaking one of Mum’s precious Royal Doulton figurines in the throes of a temper.
Mum and Dad have now gone home to get some rest and feed Jasper. They’ve texted Chloe to say there are rubberneckers on the street, people from out of the area shouting questions about what has happened. Sounds like they’ve gathered at both our houses, judging by Beth’s earlier text warning of people looking through our windows. I expect Mum may soon be back in bed with a headache if it continues.
I still haven’t heard back from Tom but he should have picked up Josh from his school trip by now. I tried calling him but it went through to voicemail.
There are pepperoni pizzas I bought yesterday waiting in the fridge, with Josh’s favourite Ben & Jerry’s cookie dough ice cream for afters. It was to be his welcome home tea, where he could tell us all about his survival adventure at Hathersage.
We’d have sat together around the kitchen table and learned how to construct a shelter in bad weather, which wild berries and mushrooms were safe to eat and how long it had taken Josh to spark together two sticks to make a fire.
Now our priority has got to be explaining the situation with Maddy in a sensitive but truthful way that Josh can understand. We agreed that Tom will broach the subject on the journey here, and then we’ll fill in a few more details together.
It occurs to me that I haven’t thought through what I’m going to do with Josh while Maddy is still being questioned. Under the circumstances, I don’t feel comfortable letting him go to Mum and Dad’s. It might seem unfair, but I can’t deny the lack of trust I now have in their ability to keep my children safe.
I look over at my sister. She’s a bag of nerves, scratching, fidgeting, blindly leafing through magazines and tossing them down again. She doesn’t want to chat, that much is obvious. I can sense one of her brooding moods coming on.
There’s so much waiting involved. We’re all at the mercy of other people, telling us the next procedure that must be followed, when all we want is for this nightmare to be over.
It’s that lack of control I find most difficult to cope with.
I just want to take Maddy home, wrap her up in her favourite fleece blanket and cuddle her close. But I can feel the chances of that fading with every minute that passes.
There’s a tap at the door and Dana Sewell comes in.
‘I just wanted to say that I think that went well for a first session,’ she says. ‘There was lots of non-verbal communication.’
‘We’re not going to find out what happened in that house through non-verbal communication, though, are we?’ Chloe indicates speech marks in the air.
Dana completely blanks her comment, and I feel a glow of admiration.
‘I also came in to offer private therapy sessions to you both. DI Neary has approved this.’
‘What do we need therapy for?’ Chloe huffs. ‘The focus should be on the girls.’
Dana thinks for a moment. ‘Kids are very good at picking up underlying tensions in families. It might be useful for us to explore that angle.’
‘Not interested,’ Chloe says shortly. ‘It’s not therapy I need; it’s getting my daughter back home that’s important.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a session,’ I say quietly.
‘That’s great, Juliet. I’ll sort out a time with DI Neary.’ Dana smiles and leaves the room
When I look up, Chloe is staring at me.
‘Mum says Maddy is always dragging Brianna outside to play,’ she remarks spitefully, nibbling at a fingernail. ‘Never happy just to play in Bree’s bedroom or watch stuff on TV these days, she says.’
I look at her blankly. ‘I suppose that’s understandable given the nice weather, isn’t it? Kids like to be outside.’
‘Hmm, maybe.’ Her voice suddenly sharpens. ‘Juliet, are you sure Maddy didn’t talk about this Bessie Wilford woman? She’s never mentioned her to you at all?’
I pull the corners of my mouth down and shake my head. ‘Not to my knowledge. What about Brianna?’
‘Oh, I’m certain Bree doesn’t know her well. She’d have told me.’
I prickle at the implication that lies beneath her words. Maddy’s the one who wanted to play outside, Maddy’s the one who knew Bessie Wilford.
‘Well, Maddy talks to us about everything too, and she’s never mentioned her, but they did both meet her at Mum’s. We know that.’
Chloe twists a piece of hair around her finger.
‘It’s just that… well, Maddy’s the quieter one, isn’t she? More secretive. Like Mum always says, Brianna can’t hold her water; she finds it impossible to keep anything a secret. Remember when she ruined Dad’s surprise birthday tea last year because of her obvious excitement? She’s always been the same. It’s just not in her nature to be silent.’
I know what
she’s getting at; she’s trying to say it must be all Maddy’s doing.
I don’t want to be drawn into an argument, but neither can I sit and listen to her casting unfounded doubt on my daughter like that.
‘Silence doesn’t suggest someone is more likely to beat an old lady around the head,’ I say icily. ‘If we’re looking for differences between the girls, then Brianna’s temper needs to be flagged up.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘I’m discussing the girls’ personalities just like you are,’ I say lightly. ‘But we can second-guess all day. The only thing that’s going to help is to get them talking. We have to know what happened in that house.’
‘But what if one of them did do it, Juliet?’
‘Huh?’
‘We know that when the police arrived they were halfway up the street and they both had blood on them. We keep refusing to believe they had anything to do with the attack, but what if one of them did kill Bessie Wilford and the other one is innocent?’
I’m shocked that she can even utter the words.
‘It’s impossible.’ Every fibre of my being rebels against the thought. ‘I refuse to believe either of them could be capable of doing such a thing. It must have been some kind of awful accident.’
‘We can’t dispute they were there.’ Chloe’s voice drops low.
‘Then why don’t they just say so?’ I counter.
‘Juliet, we have to consider that one of them might have killed Bessie Wilford by accident and one of them could be completely blameless. We can’t let both their lives be ruined because we refuse to face the facts.’
But I know the only fact Chloe would be willing to face is Brianna’s innocence. She might not be so keen on Maddy escaping punishment if the opposite scenario proves to be the case.
Punishment… innocence and guilt… My head feels woozy, as if I’ve been drinking.
‘I need some air.’ I stand up.
