by Vicky Jones
Pam’s little blue Nissan was parked up on her drive when she passed it, but Katie wasn’t here to see her today. She carried on past her childhood home, so as not to attract Pam’s attention again, hoping that Pam hadn’t got that much of a good memory these days for unfamiliar looking Renault Clios prowling along the quiet, leafy road. Katie pulled up three houses down and got out of her car. As inconspicuous as she could be, she slid up the driveway and disappeared around the back of her old home, which appeared to be unoccupied. A for sale board at the corner of the front garden was clearly not gaining any interest and the house had been left to wither in the winters that had passed since any life had been present there.
She walked along the side of the derelict building but still definitive memories weren’t triggered. Gliding her hand along the top of the splintery fence, she let the feathery tops of the overgrown weeds that lined the perimeter run through her fingers.
The back garden was long, grassy, and widened out at the bottom where it also dipped at quite a gradient. There, as if no time had passed at all, was the cabin shed that filled the whole of the last 100 feet square of the overgrown garden. As she walked closer, she could see the windows were now cracked and broken at the edges, the putty holding them in their frames crusted and worn. The wood was dark and lichen-covered, with rough circular holes where the knots had once been. The felt on the roof was ripped along the edges, and one end had completely folded back on itself. It was a wreck, barely standing, but the most morbidly intriguing thing Katie had ever laid her eyes on.
In her mind, she started to see hazy pictures of faces she couldn’t put names to. The story told to her by Pam and Bill started to play out, as if actors had walked out of the wings and across the stage in her head and begun their performance. She stood motionless, a yard away from the steps leading up to the front door of the cabin, looking up at the imposing structure. Haunted and cold, the building seemed to look back at her, through soulless window-framed eyes. As if mirroring her emotions, the sky began to darken, the clouds above her swirling into grey, edgeless shapes. Air pressure had started to build, and the first drop of rain splashed onto the back of her jacket collar, trickling its way down her neck and chilling her spine.
“What happened here, Mollie? Help me to remember,” she breathed into the air.
Once around the back of the cabin, Katie felt the slope descend underneath her feet, and with the rain now falling freely, it began to give way, making traction beneath her trainers almost impossible. She slipped and skidded until she managed to reach out and grab the bottom of one of the decking banisters. Recovering herself, she looked down at the spot where she guessed Mollie may have landed. Katie couldn’t stop the tears from falling now, the grim reality of the event she had no memory of. She sank to her knees and pressed her palm flat to the cold, wet earth.
Her thoughts were deafening. I can only hope you can forgive me. It must have been an accident. You must have been so scared. I hope you didn’t feel any pain. I’m sorry I didn’t get help straight away. I promise you, if I had my time again, I would do nothing but protect you. I just needed to be here. I need to work out what I do about this now. I’m so sorry, Mollie. I’m so sorry.
Katie leaned back against the muddy footing of the cabin and made no effort to stop the tears streaming down her face. They mixed with the rain that was now lashing down. By the time she heaved herself up from the sodden earth, she was soaked to the skin. The clouds were starting to separate and a beam of bright sun shone down on her, warming her icy cold, wet face. She trudged back around to the front of the house and down the driveway to her car twenty yards down the street. With nothing else to stick around for, she started the engine and tapped in the postcode to Brighton.
Six hours later, after hitting every traffic jam on every motorway she drove along, she put her key in her front door and stepped through into the hallway, feeling as if her stiff and weary legs would give way at any point.
“Thank God you’re home. I’ve been worried sick,” Tom exclaimed, rushing over to her and wrapping her in a tight embrace. He pulled away and frowned, noticing her white long-sleeved t-shirt was covered in dark mud and bloodstains. “What the hell?”
“Not now, Tom. I’m exhausted. I just want a shower and my bed.”
“No, you need to tell me what the fuck is going on.” He led her carefully to the living room and sat her down on the sofa. “You can tell me anything, you know that. What happened up in Liverpool to get you in this state?”
“You really want to know?”
“Yes!”
“I’m a murderer.”
Tom stood staring vacantly at a patch of chipped green paint on the kitchen wall as he stirred a third teaspoon of sugar into his coffee. He snapped out of his daze as Katie appeared behind him, now showered and dressed in a blue wool jumper and jeans. She leaned on the doorframe.
“You did ask,” she said.
Tom turned around to face her. “How the hell could I know that was going to be the story? Never for the life of me did I think you were going to say all of that.” His face was ashen, his normally kind eyes cloudy. “All the time we’ve known each other, you never mentioned anything about that.”
“Of course I didn’t. Did you not hear the part where I told you I didn’t have a clue myself?” Katie replied wide-eyed.
“I know, I know,” Tom said, shaking his head. He raked his hands through his thick, brown hair. “It’s just a shock, you know?” He checked himself after a sharp look from Katie. “Yeah, yeah, of course you know. Well, it explains why your sister is the way she is with you. She’s known all this time and never told you. That’s messed up, that.”
“It was for my own good, apparently. Though I’m not sure what genius thought that up? Like I was never going to find out?”
“And you can’t remember a single thing about that day?” Tom quizzed.
Katie shook her head. Tom’s brow furrowed. Katie shot him an angry glare. “What?”
“It’s just…just quite a big event in your life for you not to remember a thing about it,” Tom replied.
“Don’t you think I know that? And how the hell can I go back to work now? With the job I do?” Katie’s eyes filled with tears again for what felt like the millionth time.
“Maybe just take a few days off. Say it’s compassionate leave or something? Dawn will understand, with it being just after the funeral and all.” He looked down at Katie’s forearms, now covered with her long-sleeved wool jumper. “And they will need some time to heal too. You can’t go showing people them. They’ll think you’re losing it.”
“Are you serious, Tom? I can’t ever go back there again. What part of ‘I’m a murderer’ did you not hear? I killed a child and you think I can go back to work at a nursery? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Katie snapped.
Tom rushed over to comfort her. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant… Look, why don’t I make an appointment for you at the doctor? You can talk it over with them. It was twenty years ago, and the police didn’t prosecute, so you’re not in any trouble. And you’re not a…murderer. Your sister died, and they put it down to an accident. But you were barely seven years old. How could you know what you were doing? Maybe the doctor can refer you for bereavement counselling?”
“Doctor? So you think I’m fucking nuts now?” Katie wrenched her arms away from Tom’s grasp, wincing as she did so. She stormed over to the stairs and disappeared up them, slamming the bedroom door behind her. Tom blew his cheeks out and stood in the almost darkness of the kitchen trying to process what his girlfriend had told him.
The morning light streamed through the blinds in the bedroom window. Katie squinted her eyes and lifted the duvet over her head. A gentle tap on the door made her look. The door opened and Tom’s face appeared. He pushed the door open and stood there with a tray of tea and toast.
“I’m sorry,” he said, laying the tray on the bed and sitting down. He reached over to stroke her h
air.
“Where did you sleep?” Katie mumbled, still half asleep.
“Spare room. I didn’t want to disturb you. I checked on you before I went to bed and you were well out. Must have been exhausted.” Tom stroked Katie’s hair.
“I was. Thanks for this,” She reached over and picked up a piece of toast, nibbling the corner. “I’m sorry too. I missed you being next to me. I woke up at 5 a.m. and texted Dawn to tell her I wasn’t coming in for a few days.”
“Was she OK about it?” Tom replied, taking a piece of toast and munching on it.
“Yeah. To be honest, she wasn’t surprised. She said she knew I hadn’t been myself, and with seeing Jenny again, she’d sussed out that I felt up the wall with it all. I didn’t tell her the truth, though, funny enough.”
“We need to take some time to decide how we tackle that part, don’t we?”
Katie nodded and looked at him through tired eyes.
“Just let me look after you, OK? No arguments. You’ve been through hell, physically and emotionally. You need some time to heal. Process it all.” Tom kissed Katie’s forehead.
“I know.”
“Just promise me you won’t do that to yourself again.” He nodded down to her arms.
“OK.”
“Right, I’d better get to work. Those boat engines won’t fix themselves.” He kissed Katie on the head again. “I’ll get us a takeaway on the way home for tea. OK?”
“See you later.”
“Love you.”
“Love you too.”
Tom returned home from work to find the house exactly how he’d left it. No lunch plates cluttering up the kitchen sink, the sofa cushions hadn’t been crushed under the weight of someone sitting on them, and the TV remote hadn’t moved from its position on the arm of his favourite chair. He cast his glance upward and heard no signs of life. Panicking, he raced up the stairs, taking two at a time, and burst into the bedroom, dreading what he might find. There, to his relief, he saw Katie, sitting on the edge of the bed. Next to her was her overnight bag, packed yet again and ready to go.
“What the hell?” He stared at Katie, who stared back.
“I’m going back up to Liverpool.”
Chapter 16
“Morning, boss,” Mags said as she walked past Rachel at the bike rack in the police station car park. Rachel looked up from her combination lock and breathed in Mags’ perfume.
“Oooh, that smells nice. What is it?”
“La Vie Est Belle, by Lancôme. Chip buys it for me from the duty free every time he goes away on a golfing trip. Probably so I let him go. He doesn’t know I secretly love the peace, so don’t tell him.” Mags grinned. “Did you have a nice evening?”
“Yeah, thanks. Just a quiet one.”
“Our young DC is doing well, isn’t she? Putting us all to shame.”
Rachel smiled. “She’s a promising talent, that one.”
A glint appeared in Mags’ eyes. “She’s definitely ambitious. Sharp by name, sharp by nature.”
Rachel frowned. “That’s good, isn’t it?”
Mags narrowed her eyes and leaned into Rachel. “Some people don’t care who they climb over to get to the top. Chloe might come across as butter wouldn’t melt, but just be careful with that young lady.” She gave Rachel a slight nod before walking into the police station.
“Excuse me, do you work here?” a voice piped up behind Rachel.
She turned around to meet the tired eyes of a young dark-haired woman wearing a blue wool jumper and jeans. She looked like she had slept in the clothes she was wearing, Rachel deduced, from the creases in her jumper. Her ponytail was askew, leaving wispy brown strands untied in it. Down the right side of the woman’s cheek there were two fine red lines the width of a seatbelt apart.
“I’m Detective Inspector Rachel Morrison. Can I help you?”
“My name is Katie Spencer. I’ve killed someone.”
Rachel and DC Chloe Sharp observed Katie through the one-way mirror into the interview room where Rachel had asked her to wait. She was sitting straight-backed in an uncomfortable wooden chair behind the table, wringing her hands and staring at the door.
“Is that really what she said?” Chloe asked. Her eyes were wide with incredulity.
“Yep,” Rachel replied. “Came straight out with it. Driven up here from Brighton. Set off at 4 a.m.” She turned to look at Chloe. “Right then, I can’t wait any longer for Mags to get off the phone. Let’s you and me do this.”
They entered the room and sat down opposite Katie, who was sitting still, her hands now clasped together on the top of the table, which was fixed to the ground. She was looking, through unseeing eyes, down at the laminated card of instructions stuck to the tabletop. Hearing the door open, she lifted her eyes to meet Chloe’s curious blue-eyed gaze. Chloe put a machine coffee down in front of her.
“Here you go. Black, no sugar, right?”
Katie murmured her thanks and took a sip from the coffee.
“Right, Miss Spencer—” Rachel began.
“Please. Katie’s fine.”
A loud, irritating beep sounded as the recording machine went through the startup process, and when that had finished, a small light on the control panel began to blink, indicating that everything was working properly.
Chloe nodded to Rachel, letting her know she could begin.
“Katie, this interview is going to be tape recorded. My name is DI Rachel Morrison, and the other officer present is DC Chloe Sharp. At the conclusion of the interview, I’ll explain how you can obtain a copy of the recording, but the short version is that if you are subsequently charged with an offence, you or your solicitor will automatically be provided with a copy.”
Katie nodded, looking worried.
“Katie. You’re not under arrest and are free to leave at any point. You are also entitled to free and independent legal representation while you’re here. Before we started, you told us that you did not want a solicitor present. However, if you change your mind for any reason at any stage of the interview, please tell us and we will stop the interview at once and arrange for one to be provided. Do you understand?”
“I do,” Katie said, “but I don’t want a solicitor. I just want to get this off my chest.”
“Very well. You said something very serious to me outside and I’d like to talk about it with you. Before I do, I must caution you. That is, you do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you fail to mention something that you later rely on in court, and anything you do say may be used in evidence. Do you understand that?”
“Yes, I do,” Katie said quietly and took a deep breath.
Chloe leaned forward and watched her carefully, her pen poised over her notebook.
“For the purpose of the tape, will you repeat what you told me outside, please, Katie?” Rachel said.
“Like I said to you outside, I recently found out that I am responsible for my younger sister’s death. It happened over twenty years ago, when I was seven. My older sister knew all about it, as did the rest of my hometown. But I was never told the extent of what happened. For some reason I must have blocked it out completely. I was sent to live with my aunt in Brighton and from then until now I was living a normal life. But my aunt died a few weeks ago, and at the funeral my older sister was there with her five-year-old daughter, Charlotte. The next day I went to see them, as I want to try and get to know my niece, you know? And reconnect with Jenny, hopefully. That’s my older sister, by the way. I wanted to feel like I have some family left. But while I was there, I found out about a child called Mollie. I asked Jenny and she wouldn’t tell me, so I decided to come up here and dig around in my childhood area. I spoke to my old next door neighbour, Mrs. Parker, who knows everything, and one of my dad’s friends and, well, I found out everything. Mollie was my five-year-old younger sister. A sister I couldn’t even remember having, until a few days ago.”
Katie paused to take another deep breath.
&nbs
p; “What happened the day Mollie died, Katie?” Rachel asked, leaning forward and interlocking her fingers on the surface of the table.
“They told me I’d had an argument with Mollie and I pushed her off the balcony of a cabin shed thing we had in the back garden of the old house. She fell about ten feet, onto some rocks below, cracking her neck on the corner of the steps. I went there the other day and saw where it happened. She died instantly, I was told.”
“Who told you, Katie? How do you know all of this is true?”
“My neighbour. She told me it was a massive story at the time. That the news and press were crawling all over the street when it happened. And my dad’s best friend, Bill Thompson, remembers being there that day. The day it happened. He saw it happen.”
Rachel looked at Katie, a sympathetic smile on her face. She got up and laid a hand on Chloe’s shoulder. “I’ll be back in a minute, Katie, OK?” Katie nodded.
“For the purposes of the tape, DI Morrison is leaving the room,” Chloe said as the door closed behind Rachel.
Katie sat with Chloe’s eyes fixed on her. “Bet you think I’m a right crank, turning up here with a story like that, don’t you?”
“No, of course not. I can imagine you must be really confused by all of this,” Chloe said. “And it’s not for me to judge you anyway. We just want to get the facts to see if there’s a case to investigate. Why did you come all the way up here today? Why not a police station in Brighton?”
“I’m not sure. But it just seemed like the right thing to do. I came back up to try and piece together this whole mystery. It’s not every day you find out you’re responsible for killing someone you didn’t even know existed, is it?”
“You’re right on that one.”