by Dan Scottow
‘It doesn’t matter. You’re saying you think I could even be involved in this?’
‘Beth, I don’t know! You’ve been acting so weird lately. And then there’s those fucking notes. And the incident with Daisy.’
‘It’s not me, Charlie! You know me. I’m your wife. You’ve known me for most of our adult lives. This…’ she picked up the newspaper, screwing it up, she threw it back at him, ‘is not me.’
‘Well someone seems to think it is.’
They sat in silence. Charlie flattened out the paper and stared down at it. Random words and phrases jumped out of the page at him.
Tortured, over fifty separate injuries, painful, systematic beating, knife wounds.
Charlie screwed his eyes shut, shaking his head. This could not be Beth. But his mind kept seeing the note left at his work.
How well do you know your wife?
‘Charlie, can we go home? Please.’
Charlie turned the key, and the engine roared to life. As he glanced up he noticed Anna holding the curtain back in one of the large bay windows.
Charlie put his foot on the accelerator and drove away from Derek’s house.
‘I can see why somebody might think it was you,’ Charlie said eventually.
‘There is a resemblance, I’ll give you that.’
‘It’s spookily like you. When I first saw it something jarred in my head. I couldn’t put my finger on it… then it clicked. I thought I was looking at Daisy.’
‘Charlie, you know me. Please tell me you know I couldn’t do anything like that.’
‘Yes. I believe you. I do. It was a shock at first. That’s all.’
‘Honestly? I need to know that you’re with me here. I don’t want you thinking… wondering things. If you have any doubts, I need you to talk to me about it. Now.’
‘I believe you.’
Beth nodded.
‘I think we should tell the police.’
‘Charlie, no. I’d rather not. It will cause problems. They’ll want to talk to Daisy, and she’ll be traumatised. I don’t want that for her.’
Charlie flicked on the indicator and took the right turn into the long twisting lane that eventually led to their farmhouse.
‘Beth, somebody has vandalised my car. This is not someone leaving us silly notes anymore, this is getting serious. If some crazy person believes that you are that girl, that you hurt a child… I don’t want to think what might happen next.’
Beth remained silent.
‘I knew we should have done something after what happened with Daisy. If some lunatic thinks you’re wrapped up in this…’ His voice trailed off.
‘I’m begging you, Charlie. I’ll sort the car. I’ll pay for it so you don’t even have to claim on your insurance. But please don’t get the police involved. We’ll have to explain why we think this is happening. And if it makes it into the papers, or gets leaked, then other people might think this girl is me… what would happen then? We would be…’
‘Be what?’
‘Finished here,’ Beth said, sadly.
‘But it’s not you, so you don’t have anything to worry about, do you?’
‘Do you think that matters? Can’t you remember the fuss surrounding this case? There was outrage when she was found not guilty. When the boy got out of jail he got a new identity. But there were all sorts of accusations. Random people got named as potentially being him, with absolutely nothing to back it up. Pure supposition. Their lives were ruined. Do you want that to happen to me… to us? If people thought for one second that I might be that little girl, that would be it for us. We would have to leave.’
‘Do you really think so? People know us here.’
‘You know me better than anyone. And it didn’t stop you asking, did it?’
Charlie didn’t reply. As he pulled up into their drive, he let out a long breath.
‘Please don’t say anything to Margot.’
‘Of course I won’t.’
Charlie turned off the engine, and they crunched their way over the gravel to the front door.
17
Beth and Charlie let themselves in quietly. No sooner had they set foot in the hallway, Cooper came scurrying out to greet them.
They made their way to the living room, poking their heads in the door. Margot sat reclined on the sofa, reading a trashy romance novel. She looked up and waved.
‘Hello, darlings! How was it?’
Beth stepped into the room. ‘Yeah, we had a nice time, thanks. And thanks again for looking after the kids.’
‘No bother at all.’
‘Was everything… okay?’ Beth asked tentatively.
‘Yes, of course. Hardly saw Peter. But Daisy was good as gold.’
The news made Beth relax a little. No danger at the door tonight.
‘Zoe came over for a while. She’s a lovely girl.’
‘Yes. She is.’
There was an awkward silence. Margot glanced from Beth to Charlie, then hopped up off the couch.
‘Right, well now you’re back I’ll be off.’
‘Okay. Sure you don’t want a coffee first?’
‘No thanks, I’m fine. Can’t drink caffeine this time of night. I’d never sleep and would be peeing non-stop.’
Beth walked with Margot to the front door.
‘Is everything okay?’ Margot mouthed to Beth as they stood in the hall.
‘Yes, we’re both tired,’ Beth whispered back. Margot leaned in and gave her a tight hug.
‘See you Monday,’ she said casually as she crossed to her Audi at the end of the driveway.
As her car pulled away she gave Beth a wave through the window, and she was gone.
Beth shut the door, sliding the security chain on.
‘I’m heading up to bed,’ she called through the living room door as she passed.
‘Night then,’ Charlie replied. When he was sure she was upstairs, he pulled the newspaper from his pocket, unfolding it.
The story had been written the day after the trial verdict was reached.
The nation is outraged as seven-year-old Kitty Briscoe walked free from court yesterday. A jury found her not guilty of the abduction and murder of two-year-old Billy Noakes in July.
Billy was snatched from a fair in Perry Barr, Birmingham where he had been enjoying an evening out with his mother, Wendy (29). Briscoe, referred to throughout the trial simply as ‘Girl A’, along with eleven-year-old Kieran Taylor, referred to as ‘Boy B’, took Billy from his mother’s side. They lured him away, then walked with him for over a mile to a disused hotel.
Once at the hotel the pair tortured and killed Billy, inflicting over fifty separate injuries. The toddler’s parents had to leave the courtroom as pathologist Dr Michael Parkes spent over twenty-five minutes outlining the various injuries sustained. He concluded that the child had suffered a painful, systematic beating.
There were various knife wounds on the young boy’s body. The police reports suggest that one or both of the accused had visited Billy’s body several times after his death. The killer, or killers, had also cut some of Billy’s hair off. Eventually the tiny body was set alight (the police believe in a juvenile attempt to dispose of it) but the fire failed to take hold.
The remains were discovered by the local fire crew, who were alerted to smoke by a passing member of the public.
Briscoe denies playing any part in the torture and subsequent murder. She places full responsibility at the hands of Taylor. Taylor also denied all charges through his legal aid but refused to speak during hours of police interviews.
Briscoe’s lawyer, Beverly Whitehouse, claimed that Taylor had coerced Briscoe into helping him abduct Billy. She also claimed that Taylor had at times been violent to Briscoe if she did not do what he told her to. She was afraid, and claims that was why she helped Taylor abduct Billy. Whitehouse surmised that traces of Billy’s blood found on Briscoe’s clothing were transferred to her when she had comforted the child after Taylor struck
him to stop him from crying. Whitehouse also argued that Briscoe was too young to understand the differences between right and wrong. She claimed that Briscoe would also not have completely understood the severity of her actions. Briscoe maintains that Billy was fine when she left the hotel.
The T-shirt Billy had been wearing when he disappeared, the lock of his hair, and the knife have never been recovered.
The jury cleared Briscoe, agreeing that at her age she was incapable of mischievous discretion, but found Taylor guilty of the abduction and murder. There was obvious shock from the public gallery as the jury delivered their verdicts. During the investigation, the Record spoke to chief investigating officer Detective Matt Simms who claimed that being in a room with ‘Girl A’ chilled him to his core.
The judge has ruled that Taylor’s identity may be reported but has banned publication of Briscoe’s identity. The Record is in contempt of court today by printing Briscoe’s name and picture, but we believe the public has a right to know who this monster is. We believe she is a danger to all children, and we think her face should be made public. Her own father agrees and has provided us with her photograph.
We graciously await our punishment.
He placed the paper on his lap. Even now, over thirty years later, the story was shocking. He remembered it, of course, from when he was a kid. It was a huge case. The entire country lapped it all up, everyone feeling the pain of poor Wendy Noakes; a mother who took her eye off her child for a second and would have to live with the painful consequences for the rest of her life.
Charlie would only have been young; around the same age as Kitty Briscoe. His parents protected him from some grizzlier facts. Rumours had circulated the school, as they always did. But a lot of these details were new to him.
Feeling nauseous, Charlie tried to imagine what that poor boy must have been thinking as he was led away by two children.
As he was beaten, stabbed and tortured.
As he cried for his mother, but she never came.
Charlie stared at the grainy picture of the little blond boy, grinning out from underneath the larger photograph of Kitty Briscoe. At first glance it was two happy children. The sinister truth revealed by the shocking words below.
He thought of his own precious Daisy. Looking towards family photos on the shelf opposite him, he saw himself holding her in the park when she was roughly the same age as Billy Noakes.
So small.
So trusting.
So innocent.
He shook his head and folded the paper into quarters, placing it in his pocket, before switching out the lights and heading up the stairs to bed.
18
Zoe Granger sat at a bus stop. The early morning sun bounced off her freckled face. Her ginger curls tumbled loosely about her shoulders, her mother’s emerald silk scarf knotted round her neck. She would have it folded neatly back where it belonged, long before her mother returned from work. Holding her phone in one hand, she unlocked it, scrolled for a few seconds with her thumb, then locked it again. A moment later she repeated the entire sequence.
She tapped like on a few of her friends’ photos without paying much attention to what they were of.
She scrolled some more. Checking the time, she noted that the bus was late as usual. She glanced around and realised she was alone, so she checked her phone again to kill some time. In case she had missed something important in the last three seconds. Her mobile buzzed to life as a text came through. Seeing who it was from, she grinned.
Her heart always danced when she heard from Peter. She didn’t know if she was in love. But she knew she hated being away from him. She had certainly never felt like this about anyone else so far in her fifteen years.
Where r you?
Zoe grinned again as she typed out a reply.
Bus stop. Going to school.
Peter’s reply came quickly.
Come to my house.
Zoe frowned.
Now?
Yes. Parents at work. House to ourselves!!!!!
Her heart fluttered. She fidgeted with her blouse, as crimson blotches spread up her chest. Although there was nobody around, she fanned the ends of the scarf out over her skin.
Her fingers trembled as she hammered out her reply.
I’m going to school!
Three dots appeared under the message. Zoe held her breath without realising she was doing it.
Forget school. This will be much more fun.