by K. L. Slater
‘Wait in here, Zachary.’
‘Where are you going?’ He watched me walk to the door.
‘I’m just going to check everything’s OK down there. Stay here with the door closed, I’ll be back in a minute.’
Zachary growled in frustration but when I looked back he’d sat down on the bed, his eyes wide and troubled.
Downstairs, the two detectives stood facing Owen. His eyes darted around the living room, his fingers chafing on his jeans.
‘Is everything alright down here?’
‘Everything’s fine,’ Sharpe told me smoothly. ‘We were just asking Mr Painter about one or two things.’
‘They want me to go to the station with them, Esme.’ Owen’s voice sounded thin and peculiar.
‘It’s a request, not an order at this stage, sir,’ Lewis said calmly. ‘Just to answer a few questions.’
‘Can’t you speak to Owen here?’ I said. Surely the questions were only routine?
‘We could, but some people prefer to go to the station than to go through the process at home.’ Lewis looked at Owen. ‘Sometimes the family home isn’t the best place to do it, especially when there’s a child around.’
Owen was petulant. ‘I’ll go then,’ he said. ‘It’s no big deal, right?’
The detectives didn’t answer but both moved swiftly towards the door.
‘Let me know if you need me to pick you up afterwards,’ I told Owen, following them into the hallway.
‘We can arrange a lift back for him, Ms Fox,’ Lewis offered. ‘No need to inconvenience you and your son.’
Owen looked tetchy. I lay my hand on his arm, our previous tensions forgotten.
‘Call me when you’re finished. It’ll only be routine questioning, I’m sure.’ I looked to the detectives for confirmation.
‘Shouldn’t take too long, hopefully.’ Lewis said, non-committal. They all trooped outside.
While Lewis led Owen towards the unmarked police car, Sharpe doubled back suddenly.
‘One thing before we go, Ms Fox. May I step inside again for a moment?’
I stepped back into the hallway to let him in. He glanced up the stairs as if he was mindful of Zachary and then indicated we should move to the living room.
‘What is it?’ I said tersely.
‘Can you tell me anything about your ex-husband’s whereabouts the day your sister went missing?’
I thought for a moment. ‘I suppose the first sign I had she was missing was when she didn’t turn up for the work meeting. Owen actually called me at work a couple of hours later.’
‘That was unusual?’
‘Not unusual exactly, he often calls me about arrangements for Zachary. But Owen wasn’t due to see him until the following day.’
‘Can you tell me what you talked about during that call?’
‘He was calling to see if Michelle was definitely picking Zachary up from school.’
‘And that was because…’
I hitched my shoulders up. ‘He didn’t say but I told him Michelle had gone AWOL and wasn’t answering her phone. He offered to pick Zach up and then drop by the house to see if Michelle had returned.’
‘Did he say where he’d been, up until calling you that day?’
I shook my head. ‘He doesn’t have to be accountable to me for how he spends his time. We’re separated.’
‘So I understand. Just to confirm then, Owen picked Zachary up from school and where did he take him?’
‘He brought him back here, to the house. I left work soon after Owen’s phone call and I came home to see if there were any clues as to Michelle’s whereabouts. I got back before Owen and Zachary did. I told you when we last spoke, I went to ask the staff at the supermarkets if they’d seen her and Owen stayed here with Zachary.’
‘Yes, you did and that was very helpful, thank you.’ He looked down at the floor and frowned. ‘One more thing. Did you see anything of Owen yesterday?’
‘Yes. When you’d left here, I was upset and I called him. I told him Michelle had been found and he offered to watch Zachary while I went to the hospital.’
‘What was his reaction… when you told him what had happened?’
‘He was shocked, as you might imagine! Why are you asking stuff like this? You’d be far better spending your time looking for the mystery man she was seen with outside school.’
‘Of course, and we have that in hand. We have to cover all bases as early as possible in the investigation. It gives us the best chance of hitting the ground running in a case like this, where there are very few leads.’
‘But you do have some? Leads, I mean?’ A channel of heat ran through my chest.
‘We have one or two lines of enquiry we’re pursuing, yes. You’ll be the first to know of any developments.’
I nodded, my hope thinning fast again.
At the front door, Sharpe turned to me. ‘Would you say Owen and your sister have an amicable relationship?’
It was an odd question to ask.
‘They get on OK, if that’s what you mean.’
‘Yes, that is what I mean. It’s just that with Mr Painter moving out and your sister moving into the house, it seems reasonable to wonder if there was a little friction between them.’
I thought about Michelle’s increasing irritation that Owen regularly overstayed his welcome and spent too much time here. The niggling little exchanges they often had, as if they were sniping at each other but managing to keep from me just how deep the resentment lay.
‘There’s no problem between them,’ I said. ‘They get along fine.’
Thirty-Four
It took a tremendous effort to play events down with Zachary. When the detectives and Owen had driven away, I called him downstairs and – terrible mother that I am – suggested he played his computer game to relax.
An hour later, Zachary still wanted answers. ‘Why has Dad had to go to the police station?’
My head was thumping and my legs felt as though they were about to give way. I sat down on the sofa and patted the seat next to me, but Zachary sat aloof in Owen’s armchair instead.
‘They just want to ask him a few questions,’ I said carefully. ‘They’re talking to lots of people because they’re trying to piece together what happened to Aunt Michelle, sweetie.’
He thought for a moment and frowned. ‘But Dad sounded upset. Like he didn’t want to go.’
‘Well, I don’t suppose anyone wants to go to a police station, do they? I expect he would have rather—’
‘Dad said surely you don’t think I’ve got anything to do with it. Do they think he’s the one who’s hurt Aunt Miche in the woods?’
‘No! I don’t think so, Zach. We know Dad wouldn’t hurt anyone, but the detectives don’t know us, do they? They don’t know Dad, or me… they have to talk to everyone so they can tick them off their list.’
‘But if Aunt Michelle tripped in the woods and hurt herself, how is that anyone’s fault?’
I covered my face with my hands. I was trying, really trying, but I was starting to doubt I could do this all on my own. I felt like I might keel over. My mind’s eye was still full of Michelle’s swollen face, buried under a heap of medical equipment.
I felt a small arm slide around my shoulders.
‘It’ll be alright, Mum,’ my son said warmly, resting his head on my arm. ‘Dad will be home soon and then we can all watch a movie together.’
‘What a great idea.’ I pasted a smile on my face and hoped he wouldn’t notice my brimming eyes. ‘Tell you what, I’ll make you a sandwich and a glass of milk and you find a good film for us all to watch later.’
Zachary seemed happy at last so I left him to it and went back into the kitchen. I closed the door and collapsed onto the sofa, just staring out of the glass doors and trying to make sense of what had happened.
After about fifteen minutes, my phone rang. I jumped up and snatched it from the breakfast bar.
‘Ms Fox? This is Nottinghamshire
Police. Owen Painter has asked us to let you know we’ll be keeping him in overnight for further questioning tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ I cursed myself as I realised I’d screeched out and lowered my voice, praying Zachary hadn’t heard. ‘You’re keeping him in for what sort of questions? This is ridiculous. You’re wasting time while the real culprit is still out there.’
‘Someone will be in touch.’
‘But… it’s been so quick! He’s only been gone about an hour. What has he said that makes you think he knows something? Has he been arrested in connection with the attack on my sister?’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to discuss it further with you.’
And that was it, I couldn’t get another thing out of her. My insides turned to liquid. This was really serious. They were keeping him in overnight and that spoke volumes about what they thought he could tell them. Whatever he’d said during the initial questioning must’ve led them to believe he was hiding something.
Had Owen even got a lawyer? I’d never thought to ask the officer who rang because he was innocent. I would bet my life on that. I couldn’t deny things had moved on a step, though. This was clearly not just a few questions he was being subjected to.
At that moment, it occurred to me then that I should let Owen’s parents know, but I couldn’t stand the thought of dealing with Brooke, his overbearing mother, on top of everything else that was happening. Yet the alternative was to manage all this alone, as well as feeling sick with worry about Michelle and trying to protect Zachary from any fallout.
It was starting to feel an impossible mountain to climb.
The only thing I could do was to pray this all got resolved, and soon. That the police would completely exonerate Owen and focus their efforts on whoever was really to blame for attacking Michelle.
Like the mystery man Zachary saw her with at school.
Thirty-Five
I don’t know how, but the next morning I managed to get Zachary to school.
He looked so tired and pale and I felt rotten sending him, but I knew it was for the best. Routine stabilised him, stopped him overthinking and, although ‘normal’ was out of the question right now, I knew school would give a bit of structure to his day and enable me to focus on getting some kind of a plan together.
My efforts to be truthful with Zachary had fallen through yesterday following the phone call from Nottinghamshire Police informing me they were keeping Owen in for further questioning. I couldn’t possibly tell him what was really happening to his dad, it would have been impossible for him to sleep a wink.
A few minutes after I’d put the phone down and sat staring hopelessly at the kitchen worktop, Zachary came in.
‘Mum? I found a film I think Dad will like, too. It’s about this soldier who’s trying to find his brother and—’
‘That’s great, Zachary,’ I’d said lightly. ‘It’ll just be you and me tonight though, Dad’s tired and got a headache so he’s gone back to the flat to rest.’
His face fell. ‘Those stupid detectives have ruined everything! Can I ring Dad? He can rest here while he’s watching the film.’
‘Maybe tomorrow, sweetie. As I said, he’s exhausted.’
Wordlessly, he’d gone back to the living room and I felt like a failure for lying to him, even though it had seemed the right thing to do to spare him the details.
He slept in my room again and although he cried out in his sleep a couple of times, he rested better than the previous night and his leg didn’t keep him awake at all. More than could be said for me. In between staring at the clock and battling the terrible low I felt when I thought about Michelle, I combed through every conversation, every interaction between Owen and Michelle that I could recall. Was there something more between them that I’d missed… more than just the odd bit of sniping and bickering? Were the detectives right to interrogate Owen about the attack? At 3 a.m. it seemed a distinct possibility. At 7 a.m., it seemed a completely ridiculous notion he had anything to do with what happened.
‘I don’t want to go to school,’ Zachary said when I suggested it was time to get ready this morning. ‘I want to see Dad. And Aunt Miche.’
‘I know you do. I don’t want to go to work either, but then later we can do something nice. Just you and me.’
He scowled. ‘What about Dad? He missed out on the movie last night so he needs to come over to make up for it.’
Last night, I’d sat through ninety minutes of a film I couldn’t recall one line of dialogue from. I’d just zoned out and thought through a thousand terrible scenarios involving Owen, Michelle and the police.
‘We can call Dad later,’ I said. ‘If he feels well enough I’m sure he’ll come over.’
‘When can I visit Aunt Miche in the hospital?’
‘Soon, I promise.’ I chivvied him into the bathroom, feeling like my head might blow off if he asked me one more thing. ‘Wash your hands and face and let’s get moving. Sooner we’re out, sooner we get back home, yes?’
He ran the tap and stared down into the sink. When I left the room I heard him close the door softly behind me.
I silently offered up thanks when Zachary went to school without further debate. I waited with him in the playground and when Miss Carling, his class teacher, came to the classroom doors to greet the children, I took the opportunity to grab a quick word with her.
‘Zachary might be a little delicate in class for the next few days. His auntie is in hospital.’
Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I heard a group of parents discussing something that had happened but I didn’t know if it was just gossip. Has she been… I don’t want to pry but—’
‘She’s been attacked, yes. She’s in a really bad way.’
‘How awful. I’m so sorry, Esme. Please do let me know if there’s anything we can do here at school to help at all.’ She grasped my hand. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep a really close eye on Zachary. We’ll look after him.’
‘Thanks so much,’ I managed to say, turning away before I turned into a snivelling wreck.
After the school run, I drove to the office and found Mo and Justine sat drinking coffee, discussing some paperwork. Both their mouths fell open when they saw me.
‘Esme!’ Justine jumped up and rushed over to me. ‘How’s Michelle? I could barely sleep for worrying about you both.’
Mo walked over. He looked drawn, his brow furrowing with concern. ‘Listen, Esme, anything I can do… and I mean anything, you only have to say.’
Justine wrapped her arms around me and for a moment I froze, terrified I’d break down. I’d wanted to keep this out of the office, to try and separate my work and personal life. But their warmth and sympathy thawed me almost instantly and I felt so alone and confused… I was fighting a losing battle.
‘Thanks,’ I sniffed. ‘She’s… in a bad way, I’m afraid. Still on the ventilator and they don’t really know what happened to her yet.’
Toby appeared. ‘Hi, Esme, I… I hope you’re OK,’ he said awkwardly from the doorway, twisting his hands together before disappearing again before I could thank him.
‘What actually has happened?’ Justine placed her hands on my shoulders and held me slightly away so she could see my face. ‘Mo said she’s in hospital but how did she get there?’
My breathing felt ragged, my throat raw. ‘We don’t know much yet,’ I managed to croak. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t say too much.
‘Esme, you’re amongst friends here,’ Mo said softly. He looked terrible, like he’d lost weight. ‘Anything you say to us won’t go any further, you know that. You look… exhausted. Are you bearing up? Is Owen staying at the house with you?’
The mention of Owen’s name made me feel sick, like a weight bearing down on me.
‘Listen, I have some good news. Episode two is whipping up a storm – early signs are it’s going to do even better than the first one,’ Justine beamed, squeezing my upper arms. ‘I wanted to give you that brilliant news even tho
ugh it feels inappropriate. Sorry.’
‘No, that’s… that’s brilliant.’ How on earth could I have forgotten about today’s episode? Easily, that’s how. But it was amazing news all the same.
‘What about Zachary… is he coping with it all?’ Justine pressed me.
It was too much. Everything. I just couldn’t hold the emotion back any longer. I dissolved in Justine’s arms.
‘Michelle’s unconscious. She doesn’t even know I’m there.’ I heard myself babbling and when Mo handed me a clean tissue, I covered my nose and mouth with it to shut myself up.
‘But what on earth happened to her?’ Mo asked. ‘How did she get those sorts of injuries?’
I blew my nose. ‘She was viciously attacked, but beyond that… they don’t seem to know anything at the moment. Except…’
I didn’t know how to say it. My chest tightened so quickly it took me by surprise and I sat back on the desk, gasping for air.
‘I think she’s having a panic attack,’ Justine cried.
Mo pushed a brown paper bag near my face then Justine said, ‘Breathe into that, Esme. Slowly, not too quickly. That’s it. That’s better.’
‘Toby?’ Mo called. ‘Can you bring Esme a glass of water, please?’
‘All this… it’s so hard for you to deal with but you’re not alone. We’re here for you, Esme,’ Justine said softly as she helped me lower into a chair. ‘Keep breathing. In, out, nice and slow. That’s it.’
‘They don’t know who attacked her. They don’t know anything,’ I managed. ‘And it gets worse. The police took Owen in for questioning yesterday afternoon. He’s still there.’
‘They’ve got Owen?’ Mo gasped in disbelief. ‘They kept him overnight?’
‘Shh. You can tell us later, Esme,’ Justine soothed. ‘Don’t go upsetting yourself even more. It must be horrendous for you, and for young Zachary, too.’
‘He doesn’t know much yet.’ I dabbed at my damp, hot face. ‘I’m trying to protect him but he’s not daft, he knows things aren’t right and he was there when Owen left with them for the station.’