Then again, it was natural for teens to have some secrets from their parents. I’d kept some from my own mum. Nothing very exciting in the grand scheme of things, but enough to have shocked her or got a lecture if she’d found out at the time. Perhaps I’d been naive thinking that you and I were different.
I realised I was hugging the photograph of the boots. Those stupid boots you had loved so much.
‘Umm, can we have the boots back, please? They were a present,’ I explained.
‘We need to keep them for now. Evidence. I wonder if we could take a look in your daughter’s room while we’re here?’
Jacob and I exchanged uneasy glances. ‘Umm, why… ?’
‘It really would be helpful.’
You wouldn’t be happy about a stranger in your room, but what choice did I have, Beth?
Fourteen
It felt utterly wrong to enter your room with two people who didn’t know you. You would have been so embarrassed, I know. In the last few months you had got very protective of your personal space – yet another little sign you were growing up.
Clothes decorated the floor as though the wardrobe had recently exploded.
‘Sorry for the mess,’ I apologised. ‘Typical teenager, eh?’
I bent to pick the things up, but DS Devonport stopped me with a gentle hand.
‘Don’t worry, Mrs Oak. We won’t be long.’
She wanted me to leave her and DC Musgrove alone; I could tell by the way she angled her body, inviting me to go through the door. I hovered, uncertain. Torn between my desire to do everything possible to help the police and my urge to protect your privacy, because you weren’t here.
I could just imagine your reaction when you found out people had been through your things, Beth. First, you’d go red, colour mottling your cheeks and your neck. Then you would put your hands on your hips and start lecturing about how people should respect your personal space. If you were really annoyed, you might even start talking about your human rights being invaded.
‘We could go back to the living room and I’ll make a cuppa, eh?’ Flo suggested brightly.
I shook my head, stubborn.
Instead of going downstairs, I waited at the threshold, your dad behind me with his hands on my shoulders. Watched as the detectives stood in the middle of the room, simply looking at first. DS Devonport picked up a notebook on your bedside cabinet and flipped through it. Casual and cold. I lurched forward at the violation, but Jacob’s hands steadied me. The tremble in them gave away his own feelings on the matter.
Flo brought up two cups of tea. Neither of us wanted them, so she stood awkwardly holding both. No one could take their eyes off the detectives.
The pair of them peered at books, photographs, inside your wardrobe, under the bed… They leafed through papers on your desk and pulled open drawers to glance inside. I bit my lip to stop the cries of protest and stem my guilty tears.
The police were searching your room for a reason, Beth, a good reason. I had to let them.
Finally, they seemed to be satisfied. DC Musgrove picked up your laptop and iPad, but it was his superior who spoke.
‘We need to take these away to check the contents.’
‘Yes, of course,’ I said. Because, despite it being yet another assault on your privacy, it would be worth it if the attacker were discovered. Jacob’s fingers massaged my shoulders, trying to comfort me.
At the front door, DS Devonport paused.
‘Don’t forget, we’re going to put an appeal out on the local news. Prepare yourselves to see that, should you put the telly on. It can be upsetting.’
Jacob and I nodded. Numb. Dumb.
‘Well, I think we have everything we need for now. Thank you.’ She inclined her head again, giving another small, practised smile. ‘We’ll let ourselves out.’
Then she and her colleagues left, leaving us to the ticking of the grandfather clock in one corner of the living room. It shaved the present into manageable pieces for us as we tried to work out what the hell had happened to us in the last three days.
You had lied, Beth.
You had been secretly meeting with someone.
Someone we knew – because we knew everyone in your life.
A thought occurred to me unexpectedly. I turned to Jacob, frowning.
‘Why did you say we were together all night when Beth was attacked?’
Fifteen
The plan itself had worked a dream, but the execution could have been better. The more I watched the attack in my mind’s eye, the more silly mistakes revealed themselves.
‘Next time,’ I found myself thinking. ‘Next time will be perfect.’
But it was too soon to undertake another just yet. The risk of discovery would be too great – even stupid people could put two and two together sometimes. No, my time must be bided for a little longer. My alibi would hold, of that I was confident; it was tighter than cling film over a mouth struggling for breath.
Still, there was an itch growing, one that simply must be scratched. I needed to kill. Smashing watermelons, remembering the thrill of snuffing out a life, wasn’t doing it for me any more – I needed someone’s pain to feed off.
Sixteen
Your dad stood in front of me, his arms open wide in apology. ‘It was just… it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. Think what the police would make of it, if they found out.’
‘You bloody idiot. It’s bound to come out! And when it does, it’s going to look a lot worse than if you’d told the truth.’
I hissed the words, furious. Jacob and I never rowed. Ever. We disagreed, discussed, but never usually rowed.
‘And I’ll tell you something else – I’m not lying for you. Why the hell should I give you an alibi? You’re a complete and utter idiot. If I hadn’t been in such a state I’d never have gone along with it, but with so much else going on I’d not even thought about it until now.’
With so much on my mind, it was only now that I had remembered Jacob telling the police twice we had stayed in together all night. But we hadn’t, Beth.
‘Look, take an hour or so to think about it before you make a decision,’ he begged. ‘It’s not worth me getting into trouble over.’
‘The truth will come out.’
‘Maybe. But it’s not relevant, anyway. If people find out about this, though, they’ll make judgements, they’ll—’
‘Jake, if they find out you’re lying about something like this, it might make them suspect you of bigger lies. Like hurting your own daughter.’
His head snapped back at the verbal blow. ‘You think?’
‘Come on, it’s always the family people suspect first.’
‘Oh! The news – it’s time!’
The change of subject gave me mental whiplash. Jacob gestured urgently towards the television.
‘It’s six thirty; time for the local news! Beth’s appeal!’