скачать книгу бесплатно
‘Of course. Do you know her well?’
‘Not really.’ She hesitated, then added, ‘My daughter is friendly with Chloe.’ It came out in a rush, as if she didn’t want to say anything about it but knew we’d find out anyway.
‘What’s your daughter’s name?’
‘Bethany.’
‘How old is she?’
‘She’s fifteen. Just turned fifteen, actually.’
‘Younger than Chloe,’ I observed.
‘Yes, but Bethany’s very mature and Chloe—’ she broke off and gave me an embarrassed smile. ‘You’d probably like to speak to her.’
‘Yes, please.’
‘It’s the door straight ahead of you at the top of the stairs.’
I was aware of her watching us as we went up. I didn’t look back at her, even though I was wondering about a couple of things, like her choice of clothes and whether that was why she had sweated through our conversation, and why she had been so concerned about her daughter’s relationship with Chloe. And yet people did behave weirdly around the police, especially on the periphery of a murder investigation, and parents did worry about protecting their children even if they had nothing to hide, and the shock of being close to a violent crime could send your body’s thermostat out of whack. Trust no one … It was a reasonable enough approach, all things considered.
I knocked on the door at the end of the hall and a suspicious face appeared. ‘Yes?’
I showed her my badge. ‘Can we speak to Chloe?’
She was short and middle-aged with close-cropped hair and kind eyes, and I wouldn’t have dared to try and persuade her to do anything against her orders. She peered at me, and then at Georgia behind me, before she nodded.
‘Come in.’
‘Has she said anything?’ I asked in a whisper as I passed the officer, and got a shake of her head in response.
Chloe Emery was curled up on a chair, staring at the rain that was sluicing down the window. She didn’t look round when we walked in. I took a moment to scan the room, more out of habit than anything else, noting amateurishly painted white walls, a crammed bookcase, a single bed, a bedside table with nothing on it but a lamp. Then I shifted my attention to Chloe. She was tall, with slender limbs and long dark hair.
‘Chloe?’
She turned to look at me. Her face was beautiful but somehow blank, with heavy dark eyebrows over blue eyes. ‘Yes?’
‘I’m Maeve Kerrigan. I’m a detective sergeant with the Metropolitan Police. Do you mind if I ask you some questions?’
She shook her head but she drew her legs up to her chest. She looked nothing short of terrified.
I sat down on the bed opposite her. Start with an easy question. ‘How old are you, Chloe?’
‘Eighteen.’
She seemed younger to me, like a child. I couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed an appropriate adult to be with her.
‘I know you’ve had a difficult day, Chloe, and I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I need to ask you some questions. Is that OK?’
She nodded, but warily.
‘Can you state your address for me?’
‘Twenty-seven Valerian Road, Putney, SW15.’
‘And that’s where you live most of the time, is that right?’
‘Yes.’ Her voice was toneless and her eyes wandered around the room as she spoke. I felt she was working hard to stop herself from fidgeting.
‘Who else lives there?’
‘My mum.’
‘And what’s her name?’
She thought for a second. ‘Kate.’
‘Kate Emery.’
‘Yes, Kate Emery.’
‘Do you have the same last name, Chloe?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is that the same name as your father?’
‘Yes.’
‘But your parents are divorced.’
‘Yes.’ Her answers were getting softer. I felt I was wandering onto dangerous ground without knowing why.
‘You were away for the weekend, is that right?’
Another nod.
‘Where were you?’
‘With my dad.’
‘Were the two of you alone?’
‘No.’
I waited but she didn’t say anything else. ‘Who else was there, Chloe?’
‘My stepmother.’ There was a pause and I was about to ask another question when she added, ‘And Nathan. And N— his brother.’
‘Who’s Nathan?’
‘My stepbrother.’
‘And his brother,’ I said. ‘What’s his name?’
She stared at the corner of the room, pressing her lips together. No answer. It wasn’t a question that was designed to trip her up – quite the opposite. These were the easy, factual questions, the ones that gave people confidence, that settled them into an interview. But I was hitting a wall I hadn’t even known I’d find.
‘Do you have any other brothers and sisters?’
‘No.’
‘So you live with your mum. Does anyone else live in the house?’
‘No.’
‘Can you tell me when you left home for your weekend with your dad?’
‘Wednesday. In the afternoon.’
‘Did you see your mother before you left?’
A nod. ‘She was at home.’
‘Did she say anything unusual? Anything that concerned you?’
Another helpless shake of the girl’s head. ‘I don’t remember anything.’
‘Did she seem worried or preoccupied?’
‘N-no.’ She wasn’t sure, though.
‘What did she say, Chloe?’
‘She was talking about work. She was busy with work and she – she wanted me to go. She was afraid I’d be late. She had lots of work to do, she said.’
‘What work does she do?’
‘She has her own business.’
‘Do you know what kind of business?’
‘It’s something to do with babies.’ Chloe shrugged helplessly. ‘She doesn’t really talk to me about it. She doesn’t think I’ll understand. She’s probably right.’
‘What time did you come back, Chloe?’
‘I got off the train at three twenty-one.’ It was an oddly precise answer, as if she’d made a special note of it.
‘Were you expecting anyone to meet you off the train?’
‘No. You see, no one knew I was coming back.’
‘Oh?’
‘I left my dad’s house early.’
‘When were you supposed to come back?’
‘On Tuesday.’ She gave a little gasp of a laugh. ‘I thought Mum would be surprised.’
Surprised. Not missing.
‘Was your mum planning to be away while you were away, Chloe, do you know?’
‘No. She wouldn’t have left Misty.’
‘Misty?’
‘The cat.’ Chloe looked stricken. ‘I don’t know where she is.’
‘Downstairs.’ The FLO gave her a smile. ‘She’s down in the kitchen. I saw her when I went down to get you your cuppa, love.’
Chloe glanced down at the full mug on the floor beside her. It had a thick film on top of it. ‘I didn’t drink it.’
‘That’s all right. We can get you another,’ the FLO said.
The girl looked nauseated. ‘No. No, thank you.’
‘So no one was expecting you to come home,’ I said, dragging the interview back on track. ‘Was there some reason you left early?’
She was bright red, instantly, and she locked her eyes on the floor in front of her. Her lips were pressed together, as if she didn’t want to run the risk of letting as much as a word out. One for the dad to answer, I decided.
‘OK. We’re nearly done. You got a lift from the station, is that right?’
‘Mr Norris saw me. He drove me back here.’
‘Did he come into the house with you?’
A big, definite headshake. ‘I was on my own.’
I looked up from my notes. ‘But he rang 999.’
‘I forgot my bag. I left it in his car. I’m always doing that kind of thing. I should have remembered because I had tried to put it in the boot and he shouted at me – well, he didn’t shout but he told me not to open the boot. It was in the back seat – my bag, I mean. And I forgot.’ She shivered. ‘I just wanted to go home.’
‘So you went inside on your own. Did you notice anything strange?’ Like the dried blood on most of the surfaces …
‘Not at first. I mean, I did, but I didn’t know what it was. I don’t really know what happened. I don’t understand why Misty was shut in and the house was all dirty and Mum wasn’t there.’ Her voice was shaking. ‘I don’t understand anything except that I came home and it was all wrong. It was all wrong and bad, and I don’t know anything except that I want it all to be right again.’ She jumped up, suddenly agitated, and the FLO rushed past me to guide her back to her chair.
‘It’s all right, lovey. You sit down.’
