Anna had pulled back from accepting that wholeheartedly but Hawley, despite his proven innocence, seemed to be at the centre of everything. Yet Woakes’ scepticism stung like a splinter under her nail. She needed to get a better handle on Hawley, satisfy herself he was not a twisted perpetrator leading them up some bramble-strewn garden path. To do that she needed to go back to the victim. Or at least the victim’s family.
She found the address in Clevedon, drove to it and sat outside to gather her thoughts. Ever since she’d seen the photograph of Blair Smeaton a knot of dread began tightening inside her. Like some awful virus replicating and growing that she knew she could not shake off. Though she was here to deal with questions surrounding Rosie Dawson’s murder, Anna couldn’t help but fear for Blair and worry that what had happened nine years before was happening again.
She got out of the car and walked to the front door.
Janice Dawson’s house was a tired looking 1970s semi on Kenn Road. There were steps leading up off the pavement guarded by a painted iron gate. Beyond,. Beyond, a concrete path flanked by a gravel garden and some forlorn-looking pot plants in dire need of watering led to the front door. A black bell sat on the frame next to the white-wood effect uPVC front door. She pressed the bell. A minute later, after a couple of muffled and unintelligible shouts, the door opened four inches to reveal a pretty, short girl of perhaps sixteen in a T-shirt and skinny jeans with flip-flops on her feet.
‘Hello?’ she said.
Anna showed her warrant card. ‘Hello. I’m Detective Inspector Gwynne. Is Mrs Dawson in?’
The girl turned and yelled, ‘Mum, it’s for you,’ before turning away from the open door and stomping, with attitude, up the stairs halfway along the hallway. Anna stood alone on the threshold, taking in the interior. Everything looked clean but well used. The laminate flooring was worn, the scuffed and chipped paintwork on the balustrade spoke of a lack of either funds or the will to redecorate. Perhaps both. The patterned rug on the hall floor had a rip in the seam with strings reaching across towards the skirting board, like the black veins of a fungal disease.
A woman appeared and walked towards her. Anna recognised her from Rosie’s file. Janice Dawson had not aged gracefully. She wore too-tight jeans and her T-shirt clung unflatteringly, emphasising a midriff bulge. She’d used too much product on her hair and it looked frizzy and dry, and the skin around her mouth and eyes was coarse, perhaps from too many cigarettes or too much alcohol. Her gravelly voice backed up Anna’s deductions, sounding, when she spoke, constantly on the edge of a cough.
‘Can I help you?’
Anna reiterated her introduction. Janice looked contrite.
‘Sorry to keep you on the doorstep.’ She turned towards the stairs and said, loudly, ‘Some people have no manners.’ She turned back, her eyes apologetic. ‘She’s sixteen and wants to be twenty-three without passing Go. Come in.’
Anna followed into a brightly lit kitchen, passing a half-open door leading into a room with the TV still on and cigarette smoke hanging like smog beneath the ceiling. The kitchen was smoke-free, however. Janice, Anna surmised, kept her tobacco habit confined to the one room at least.
‘Mrs Dawson, the family liaison officer will have rung you to explain that we are having another look at Rosie’s case.’
Janice nodded. A tight, jerky little movement. ‘She did ring. She told me not to expect too much.’
Anna nodded. ‘She’s right. And I realise how it might be painful to talk about this again.’
Janice had a small tremor and she pressed her hand against the table to control it. ‘No. It’s not. I talk to her every day. Rosie, I mean. I don’t mind taking about her.’ She tried smiling but her mouth puckered and tears brimmed on the rims of her lids. ‘It’s not knowing who did it and why that’s painful now.’ She wiped the moisture from her eyes with a ruffled tissue, took in a deep breath and let it out again before turning towards the sink. ‘Tea?’
They sat at the kitchen table. Anna wondered how long it would be before Janice excused herself to go back into the den for a smoke. Strong tea was the best substitute for now. Anna let hers cool, but Janice sipped at the steaming liquid constantly. Above the fridge was a framed photograph of Rosie. The same one Anna had seen in her file. She may have been missing some baby teeth, but she had a wicked smile.
‘Bernice,’ asked Anna, flicking her gaze back, ‘is she still at school?’
‘Yeah. She got some GCSEs but I have no clue what she’s going to do with them. And before you ask, her dad ain’t here anymore. We broke up three years ago. That hasn’t helped. He’s moved in with a woman over in Knowle. As you can imagine, Bernice was over the moon when that happened.’
Anna nodded, noting too how Janice seemed less bothered than her daughter about the absence of Janice’s father. She’d seen it all before. Family break-ups were common, but in cases involving the loss of a child they seemed almost to be inevitable. She’d read that upwards of 80% of parents simply fell apart from the strain of either trying to pretend life would ever be normal again or wallowing in the guilt and trauma.
‘He blamed my mum for it all,’ Janice said. ‘Said he couldn’t stand to look at her. My poor mum. She never forgave herself, but I mean what can you do if someone comes up behind you and knocks you out? Terry, my husband, said she should have done something.’ Janice shook her head. ‘Truth is, I feel better without him here.’
‘What about your mother?’
Janice shook her head. ‘Fags got her two years ago, though they called it pneumonia.’ She glanced down at her own nicotine-stained fingers. ‘And before you ask, I have tried to give up a dozen times. I’m a lost cause.’ She attempted a laugh and it spiralled into a hacking cough.
You’re committing slow suicide yourself, aren’t you, Janice?
‘I wanted to talk to you about Rosie’s visit to the hospital in Cheltenham.’
Janice’s lids spread open in surprise. ‘Still on about Dr Hawley? Your lot had a thing about him last time. Don’t tell me he’s turned out to be a paedo after all?’
‘No. But I’m intrigued about your visit. Rosie was no stranger to hospitals, was she?’
‘God, no. We spent the first three years at the children’s hospital. Rosie needed surgery aged three for an ASD. That’s a hole in the heart, but I expect you know that. Common in Down’s, they are. Then there was her hernia and the thyroid problem. She had a file as thick as a bible. But that was here in Bristol.’
‘Not where you saw Dr Hawley.’
‘No. We saw him in Cheltenham. We’d been out to Sudeley Castle for the day. All of us. Terry’s from up that way. He loved Sudeley. There’s a maze and a big adventure area, so we’d made a day of it. A windy day of it, as I remember.’
‘Is that important?’
‘It’s what Dr Hawley said might have caused her injury. Rosie didn’t complain much. She was always so up for everything. But she started rubbing her eye that afternoon and in the car on the way home she said it hurt. She wasn’t a crier. We took her to A and E. I sat with her while Bernice and her dad went to get something for us to eat. We promised Rosie a picnic if she was good with the doctor.’
‘What was your impression of Hawley?’
‘He was young but ever so good with Rosie. Gentle and explained everything. She let him put drops in her eyes, poor little thing. Then she sat on my knee and he put her on this machine to look in her eyes and told her what he was going to do. He took this bit of grit out from under her lid. Marvellous it was and she loved it. Always liked attention did Rosie. While he wrote up his notes she whispered in my ear that she wanted to give him a hug. I didn’t think twice about it. I asked if it was alright but before he answered Rosie had run across. He was a bit shocked, to be honest. But he was a sport about it. She gave him one of her big hugs and a kiss on his cheek. Like she did with everyone she loved.’
‘He didn’t reciprocate?’
Janice frowned. ‘He looked terrified. Me and the nurse were laughing and then Rosie started to laugh and I didn’t think any more of it. Until the police came and asked me about it. Like you are now.’
Anna nodded.