There was so much to work through she barely knew where she would begin. All Chloe knew was that there was no more time to be wasted. She had already wasted far too much. It didn’t matter any more that these files had come at such a high price. Now she had them, she could finally do something constructive.
She opened the file that contained the police interview with her brother. Just seeing his name at the top of the screen brought a lurching sickness to her stomach, a sense of sadness so intense that Chloe had never been able to describe it in just one word.
She turned the volume up on the laptop and sat hunched forward as though to cover it, as though to prevent any detail it held from escaping her. She knew that hearing Luke’s voice for the first time in so long was going to throw everything off balance.
DS Barrett: For the purposes of the recording, could you please confirm your full name.
Luke Griffiths: Luke Griffiths.
DS Barrett: You understand that you’ve been arrested on suspicion of the murder of Emily Phillips? You’ve been read your rights and understand that this interview is being recorded and anything you say may be used against you later in court?
Silence.
DS Barrett: Please respond verbally for the recording.
Luke Griffiths: Sorry. Yes, I understand.
DSB: You’ve told officers that you went to a party with Emily Phillips last Saturday night, is that correct?
LG: Yes.
DSB: Could you tell us where that party was?
LG: Michael Parry’s house. He’s in our year at college. He was having a party while his parents were away. He lives on the other side of Emily’s estate.
DSB: Did you meet Emily there or somewhere beforehand?
LG: I met her there.
DSB: Can you tell us what happened when you and Emily left the party, Luke? What time did you leave Michael’s house?
LG: About 10, I think.
DSB: We have eyewitnesses who say it was 9.15.
LG: OK. 9.15. I can’t remember exactly.
DSB: Please tell us, in as much detail as you can, what happened after you left the party.
LG: We walked back to Emily’s house. We stopped at the shop for a bottle of Coke. She had a headache. I thought maybe a bit of sugar would help. She’d had too much to drink. When we got back to the house I made her a cup of tea and some toast. She went into the living room to sit down and take off her shoes. She came through to the kitchen then, when I was making the tea. She was crying. I thought it was just because she’d had too much to drink.
Silence.
Then the faint sound of crying. Luke.
Chloe closed her eyes, gripping the sides of the laptop. She pictured her brother sitting there in that interview room, eyes red and nose running, alone with the realisation that the people who might prove his innocence were the very people who were convinced of his guilt.
She remembered sitting in the waiting room at the station in Cardiff that day. Her parents had been there; her mother’s visit so brief that she might as well not have bothered at all. Chloe and her father had sat opposite one another, both with their heads bent forward, each avoiding eye contact with the other. So many hurtful, hateful things had been said between them in those previous few months. This should have brought them together.
DSB: Do we need to stop the interview for a while?
LG: No. I don’t need time, I just… I didn’t kill her. I swear; I didn’t touch her – you’ve got to believe me.
DSB: Let’s stick with the facts for now, please, Mr Griffiths. You say Emily took her shoes off in the living room and then came through to the kitchen where you were making tea. She was crying. What happened then?
LG: I asked her what was wrong. She said she was sorry, that she—
The recording became inaudible; Luke’s words lost amidst his sobs. The interview was terminated.
Chloe went to the kitchen and made herself a coffee. She longed for something stronger, but she needed to keep a clear and sober head. Against her wishes, tears escaped her. She gripped the edges of the kitchen worktops, trying to cling to some remnant of normality. She hadn’t allowed herself to cry enough, fearing where those tears might lead her. Once she started, how would she stop?
Trying to push back a flow of tears, Chloe returned with her coffee to the living room and to the recording of her brother’s police interview. What she’d heard was painful, yet she knew what was still to come would be so much worse.
DSB: Interview resumed at 11.42. You said Emily came into the kitchen. She was crying. You said she apologised. What was she apologising for?
LG: She said she couldn’t do it any more. She said she was sorry, but she didn’t want to be with me any more.
The cup in Chloe’s hand wobbled slightly, sending coffee trickling down its side. She didn’t want to hear about this, not again. This was why everyone had assumed Luke was responsible for Emily’s murder. She had wanted to end the relationship with him. He couldn’t accept it. So simple, when it was put like that.
The sound of her brother’s tears, muffled by the interviewing officer’s words, filled the room. She wasn’t sure they would ever leave. She would continue to hear them long after she stopped pausing the recording.
DSB: She wanted to end the relationship?
Silence.
DSB: For the recording, please, Luke.
LG: Yes.
DSB: And how did you feel about that?
LG: I was shocked. I thought everything was fine.
DSB: Emily hadn’t given any previous indication that she didn’t want to be in the relationship any more.
LG: No.
Even in his single word responses, the change in Luke’s voice was obvious. His increasing hesitation, his heightened tone: he knew the implications of the interviewing officer’s questions.
DSB: What did you say to her when she told you that?
LG: I said I didn’t understand. Everything had been fine, I didn’t know why she was saying that.
DSB: Did you argue?
There was a lengthy pause. Chloe had abandoned her cup on the coffee table, the smell of it alone making her nausea worse.
LG: Yes.
DSB: Did the argument become physical?
LG: No! I asked her why she was doing it and she wouldn’t give me a proper answer. I told her she was drunk, that she didn’t know what she was saying. I left. I slammed the front door behind me; I was upset.
DSB: Where did you go when you left Emily’s house?
LG: I just walked around the estate for a bit. I was going to go home, but… I don’t know, I didn’t want to. I just wanted to be by myself.
DSB: But you went back to see Emily?
LG: Yeah. I wanted to sort things out with her.
DSB: Even though she was drunk? By your own admission, it sounds as though you thought she didn’t really know what she was doing or saying. Why go back then? Why not wait until the following day, until she’d sobered up, to go back to speak with her?
LG: I didn’t want to leave her on her own. Her mother was away and—
Luke stopped mid-sentence. It was almost as though he’d sensed the trap he was about to walk into and had decided not to venture any further. Honesty didn’t always pay. Sometimes saying nothing was far less incriminating than speaking the truth, even when that truth fell from the mouth of an innocent.
DSB: And that gave you an opportunity to go back and kill her.