At the police station, after a brief chat with the officer at the front desk, they were separated. Nathan was shown into an interview room adjacent to the reception area, while another officer pressed numbers on a keypad and escorted her upstairs to DI Turner’s office. After being left alone for more than forty minutes, the layout of the room and its contents was imprinted on her brain.
Pale lilac paint on all four walls and an air force blue carpet on the floor. White vertical blinds closed over the only window, shutting out the night and making the room claustrophobic. She was sitting on the visitor’s side of the desk, in a chair identical to the one across from her. The Bath Chronicle, the Guardian and the Daily Mail were spread on the desk in various stages of being read. A plastic Tupperware box had its lid off, and a half-eaten chicken and lettuce brown roll looked still fresh. On the radiator beneath the windowsill a battered can of Coke was balanced.
She heard a noise in the corridor, and DI Turner appeared in the doorway carrying a tray with two mugs and a sugar bowl.
‘Coffee,’ he said by way of greeting, then nodding at a mobile phone on the tray beside the coffees he added, ‘Quick thinking by your friend.’
Nathan had snapped several photographs of her car while she had stared at it aghast.
‘Sorry about the wait. I sent some officers up to the hospital to hopefully get some CCTV footage from the social club. They shouldn’t be too long.’
Alex breathed a sigh of relief. Any time now she would know who had done this to her. And so would everyone else.
‘Is he your boyfriend?’ Greg Turner asked.
Alex shook her head. ‘No. He’s a colleague. A friend.’
‘And you went to the party with him?’
‘No. I was with my boyfriend and another friend, Fiona Woods. Nathan was at the party and he followed me when I .?.?. Well, I embarrassed myself by getting drunk and Nathan followed me when I rushed out of the club. He was with me when I got to my car.’
‘Not planning on driving, were you?’ Greg Turner asked with a note of disapproval.
Again she shook her head. ‘I just wanted to be alone for a while. I couldn’t have driven it anyway. My keys are still in my bag and my bag is back at the party.’
‘And your boyfriend?’
‘Probably still there. Probably hasn’t even noticed I’ve gone.’
She flushed as she heard the self-pity in her voice, and quickly changed the subject. ‘How are Amy Abbott’s parents?’
He gave a small shrug. ‘Devastated. Unable to come to terms with what has happened.’
‘And the boyfriend? Have you found him yet?’
He looked down at his desk and rubbed a restless finger along the bridge of his nose. ‘We don’t know that she had a boyfriend, only that she was pregnant.’
‘You haven’t been able to find out anything, have you?’ she persisted.
‘Dr Taylor, I really cannot discuss the case with you.’
‘Nor look at me when you say that?’
He raised his head immediately and she saw he was more than capable of keeping eye contact. She felt foolish. He had honed the skill on criminals, who no doubt tried to avoid this very situation.
‘Do her parents believe she did this to herself?’ she asked. ‘Do they think their daughter died because of what she did to herself?’
He stayed silent, but she knew the answer.
‘Of course they don’t,’ she quietly stated. ‘It’s unthinkable and hideous that any young woman would do this to herself. And where was she all the time she was missing?’
His lips moved into the semblance of a polite smile. ‘We don’t know yet. We’re still checking. She had lots of friends. As you know she was found on a street. The last sighting we have—’
‘Is in Kingsmead Square,’ she finished lamely. ‘I know. I read it in the paper.’
‘Look, Dr Taylor, as far as we’re concerned this is not a murder investigation. At the very worst it’s suicide, but more likely it’s a tragic accident. You really must not think this has anything to do with you. Unless of course you know something different to us?’
Her head was throbbing from too much alcohol and the beat of the too-loud music she had left behind.
‘You weren’t there when she died. She was telling me something. I know she was telling me something. It was in her eyes .?.?. She—’
A knock on the door interrupted them. With surprise Alex saw Laura Best enter the room. The woman smiled at her with far more friendliness than Alex recalled. Maybe it was the fact that Alex was now wearing her own clothes and not lying on an examination table that made the female officer regard her as a person rather than as a victim to be questioned. Or maybe she was showing her sunny side for the benefit of Greg Turner?
‘Can I help you?’ he asked.
‘CCTV footage,’ she said, holding up a black video case.
‘Christ, that was quick – what did you do, fly there?’
Laura Best smiled. ‘I was close by, and it was easy enough to pick up. Dr Taylor has had enough to deal with as it is. I’m sure she’s eager to see her attacker.’
The stress on the word ‘attacker’ was subtle, but Alex was sensitive enough to realise it had been a dig.
DI Turner gave the woman a nod and indicated that she should put on the video. From the look and slightly dismissive shrug she gave her boss it was clear Laura Best had already seen the footage and that there was not a lot on the footage. Alex’s heart sank, and stayed that way as she watched the action take place on her car.
The vandal wore a dark bulky top with a hood that obscured his head and face entirely, and baggy trousers and gloves that hid the shape of his limbs and skin colour. There was no way of telling who it was.
‘I think it’s a joke.’
Alex’s eyes shot open. ‘Pardon?’
She wanted to get up and slap Laura Best’s face.
Laura Best glanced at Greg Turner, encouraging him to concur with her opinion. ‘A joke.’
‘A bit of a sick joke,’ Greg Turner replied.
‘Well, yes, of course, but a joke all the same. Or prank, if you prefer.
Alex felt sick as the implication of what she was hearing sank in. ‘You think someone did this because they know I said yes to him?’
Neither of them answered her.
‘You think someone did this because they think I’m an easy lay?’
Greg Turner shook his head firmly. ‘Unless you’ve discussed the intimate details of your case, no one else should know. Do you think it’s possible that you may have told someone, who would then do this to your car?’
She shook her head firmly.
‘Well, I can only suggest that DC Best could be right about it being a sick joke. Possibly carried out by someone who heard about your experience and is now being cruel by turning it into a sideshow.’
Alex struggled to her feet. ‘I’m tired. I want to go home now.’
‘Drink your coffee first. We’ll talk a little more and then I’ll drive you home,’ he offered.
Alex was already walking to the door. ‘I don’t think so. I’m just a joke. Isn’t that right, DI Turner? Well, don’t forget to have a good laugh at my expense.’
‘Dr Taylor, you might want this?’
Alex turned and saw Laura Best holding out her black shoulder bag. Surprised, she went back across the room to take it.
‘The bar lady said you left it behind. Thought you might want it.’