Talking to Strangers, page 31
Caro nodded.
“Nicky Donovan wasn’t there with Archie, was he?” Elise said. “He was at his mum’s having a ham salad.”
“But who was?” Caro said. “We’ve got nothing to put Ash Woodward there. All we’ve got is Archie and Xander.”
SUNDAY:
DAY 16
EIGHTY-ONE
KIKI
Sunday, March 1, 2020
Annie Curtis won’t answer her phone this morning, and I force myself out of bed to drive over to her hotel. I know that if I don’t, other reporters will find her and I risk losing my advantage.
I go straight up and tap softly. I can hear movement and I’m calling, “Annie…” when Xander opens the door. He looks as if he’s just come out of a deep sleep, his eyes unfocused as he rubs his face.
“Mum’s not here,” he says.
“Oh, that’s a shame. Will she be back soon?”
His eyes narrow. “No. She’s taken Gav home. To the house. I’m staying here. I keep telling her we need to leave the area, but she won’t listen.”
I need to get straight over there but something about him makes me hesitate. I nod sympathetically. “How are you doing?” I say softly. “You look a bit out of it. How are you coping?”
“I’m okay,” he croaks. A door opens across the hallway, and an inquisitive face appears.
Xander stands back out of sight and then waves me in so he can shut the door.
“Do you want a coffee?” he mutters.
“Er, I can’t really stay,” I say, but he’s already tearing open packets of instant.
“Is Emily coming down to be with you?” I say, taking the only chair.
“No.” Xander squares his shoulders and pretends to be busy with the drinks.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “It must be hard for her to take it in. Hard for everyone.”
“What did you want Mum for, anyway? The lawyer has said she mustn’t talk to anyone,” he says, moving me on and perching on the corner of a bed.
“To tell her some news about a man called Ash Woodward.”
“Not that sad little fantasist who killed himself?” Xander mutters.
“Er, I don’t think they’re saying it was suicide,” I correct him.
“Oh, right,” he says.
“He told your mum he was in Knapton Wood the day Archie died,” I go on.
Xander’s mouth hardens and he does a half-hearted shrug. “Yes, she said. But I told her he was probably just a nutter who wanted to get himself noticed,” he says.
“You don’t remember him? From back then? Did you ever see him in the wood?”
Xander’s head jerks up, and he slops some of his coffee on the duvet.
“No,” he snaps.
“So it was just you and Nicky Donovan?”
He nods. I can smell his distress, the sharp scent of sweat.
“I’m sorry to bring all this back up, Xander, but your mother wants it to be revisited—by me and the police. She has questions. Did you know that Nicky Donovan’s mother told your mum he’d chatted to you the week before in the wood? That you’d got on well. Had a connection. That was why he went back.”
“I’d never seen him before,” Xander gasps. “He was lying to save his skin. That’s what the police said.”
“What did he say to you that day?”
“I can’t remember. I try not to think about it. For fuck’s sake, I was a child. I’ve spent years trying to put it behind me.”
“I’m sorry, but the thing that really puzzles me—and your mum—is how Nicky Donovan knew Archie was in the wood, too.”
“Mum? When did she say that?” Xander stammers. “I—I don’t know. He must have heard him.”
“Could you hear Archie?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Can you remember which direction Nicky Donovan ran when you pushed him away?”
“I don’t know,” he mutters, fists clenched at his jawline. He doesn’t sound sure anymore. His composure is starting to fray at the edges as we stray deeper into the wood. “I didn’t see. I was too frightened to look back.”
“It must have been terrifying,” I soothe. “And where was Archie?”
When Xander finally speaks, he enunciates each word as if it’s in a foreign language. Like he’s making the words last to delay the next question.
“I left Archie under the big tree. I told him to clear a space for another bit of the camp,” he continues. “And I went to get sticks and stuff to make the walls. He wanted to come, too, but I made him stay.”
“Tell me again about Nicky Donovan,” I press.
“He tricked me,” Xander says quietly. “He had this lovely smile and gave me one of his sweets.”
“But why did you trust him?” I ask. “Weren’t you afraid of talking to strangers?”
Surely his parents had warned him? Mine did. Hinting and nudging at the unspoken horrors lurking behind such an encounter. I should have listened, shouldn’t I?
“He called me ‘son,’ ” Xander whispers under his breath. And I’m not sure I’ve heard him right.
“ ‘Son’?”
Xander looks up at me, eyes unfocused, still in that moment. “He said, ‘Hello, son,’ when he saw me. And he smiled his lovely smile. And I just wanted him to be my dad for a moment. I let myself believe it. It wasn’t real, but when he said he could come back to the same place, same time, I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”
“So you did meet him before?”
Xander nods reluctantly.
“And you went back?” I edge him on.
“But it wasn’t like the first time,” Xander says softly, as if to himself. “He still smiled. But he got hold of me and touched me and I knew it wasn’t right, what he was doing. And he wanted me to keep it a secret. He was just like my real dad, wanting me to keep secrets.”
A tear trickles out of one eye.
“What happened then, Xander? Did you push Nicky away?”
“Yes. I ran off and I banged my head on a branch and it hurt so much. I was bleeding and crying when I got back to Archie.”
I realize I’m holding my breath. Wait, just wait.
“And he tried to comfort me…”
“Archie was alive when you got back to him,” I leap in. Of course he was. There’d never been anyone else there.
Xander puts his hands over his face and wipes his eyes slowly before speaking.
“It was an accident. Archie made me tell him what had happened. About Nicky. And then he jumped up and was shouting that he was going to tell Mum. And I couldn’t let him. It would make Mum cry and I couldn’t bear it. I got hold of the back of his shirt and we were fighting and I lay on him like we sometimes did in play fights. To stop the noise. But then Archie stopped squirming.”
There it is. Finally. Annie’s answer.
I pass him a tissue, our fingers accidentally touching for a split second, making him jerk back.
“What happened then?” I say quietly.
He looks at me, shadows beginning to bloom under his exhausted eyes.
“It was like a terrible dream,” Xander goes on. “When I turned him over, he wouldn’t talk to me. And I knew it was bad and I was going to be in trouble. I tried to sit him up—so he looked like nothing had happened—but he kept toppling over. And his face was all dirty, so I wiped it with his T-shirt. Then I walked out of the wood.”
EIGHTY-TWO
KIKI
Sunday, March 1, 2020
Elise sounds looser than I’ve ever heard her when I ring. They’ve got their man for Karen’s murder. And the buzz behind her is at jubilation pitch.
“Many congratulations,” I say, joining in before I spoil her day. “You’ve done a great job. But, look, I need to tell you about something else.”
“Go on, then.” I can hear someone laughing close to her. “What is it now?”
“Elise,” I say, my voice beginning to shake. “I’ve just had the most extraordinary conversation with Xander Curtis. He told me he accidentally killed his little brother.”
“Stay where you are,” Elise says, voice tight. The confetti guns are clearly going to have to wait a bit.
I meet her in the foyer of the hotel, and she takes my arm and marches me over to a pair of stiff purple armchairs that were never meant for human buttocks. I repeat the bones of the interview, and she sits in silence. She doesn’t look as though she can trust herself to speak for a moment. But she finally blurts: “It makes sense, doesn’t it? It’s what Caro said. All we’ve ever had at the scene was Archie and Xander.”
I just nod.
“Where is he now?” she asks, and I give her the room number. Elise rings Caro. “We’re arresting Xander Curtis for Archie’s killing,” she tells her quietly.
“What do you think Annie will say?” I ask Elise as we wait, and she groans. The next horror show.
“I honestly don’t know,” Elise mutters, the strain showing on her face.
“She told me she wanted answers when she started this,” I say. “But not this one. Never this one.” Elise shakes her head in sorrow. “He said he had to stop Archie telling her—so she wouldn’t cry again,” I add. “How will she live with that?”
“I don’t know,” Elise croaks, and looks at me. “And I’ll have to go and see Nicky Donovan’s mum as well. God, what a shit show.”
EIGHTY-THREE
ELISE
Sunday, March 1, 2020
“I’ll ring the Crown Prosecution Service when I’ve had this and see what they want to do,” Elise said, dunking a sustaining chocolate finger in her sergeant’s tea when she finally got back to her office.
Xander Curtis had just repeated to them exactly the same story he’d told Kiki Nunn. A tale of two children caught up in a tragic accident. And a lie that took root and grew.
“They won’t want to prosecute him for this, surely,” Caro said, moving her tea to safety. “He was only just ten. His birthday was in July—he was just a couple of weeks inside the age of criminal responsibility. God, I could weep for him.”
“And the defense psychologists would have a field day,” Elise murmured. “A distraught child who’d been assaulted by a stranger and didn’t want his mum to know.”
Still didn’t. “Are you going to tell Mum?” he’d whispered to Elise as he was driven to the police station.
She’d have to know now.
* * *
—
Annie Curtis opened the door of her house before Elise had time to knock. She must have seen her in the car, watched as Elise sat staring out the windscreen as the minutes ticked by, wondering and dreading what was about to arrive at her doorstep.
“I’ve got your answer, Annie. I know why Archie was killed,” Elise said, standing in the hall.
Annie flushed, hands to hot face. “Oh, God!”
“And who really killed him.”
“Who?” she whispered, and her knees buckled beneath her. Elise grabbed her arm to support her. She steered Annie into the living room and sat her down on the sofa. She looked so small, shrunken by shock and disappearing into the cushions.
“Annie,” Elise said slowly and simply. “I am so sorry, but Xander has told us this morning that he killed Archie.”
“No!” Annie screamed, her hands flying up as if they could stop the information reaching her, then falling back to her sides. “It’s not true. Why are you saying that?”
“Xander says it was an accident,” Elise carried on, trying to keep her voice calm.
“An accident?” Annie Curtis wept, clinging to the only safe word. “What happened to my boys?”
“Xander went back to Archie after Nicky Donovan assaulted him. Archie wanted to tell you about it, but Xander didn’t want you to know. He tried to stop Archie and there was a tussle. And Archie stopped breathing.”
“Oh, God, no,” Annie wailed as the image of that terrible moment played in her head.
“This is my fault, isn’t it?” she sobbed, and looked up at Elise. “I never should have asked you to investigate, should I? Henry said no good was ever going to come of reawakening our ghosts.”
“You simply wanted to know the truth,” Elise said.
Annie looked away, eyes dead now.
“Not this truth,” she whispered. “My poor boys.”
MONDAY:
DAY 17
EIGHTY-FOUR
KIKI
Monday, March 2, 2020
Mrs. Donovan takes a bit of persuasion to open the door. Elise King has already been here first thing this morning, but she’s given me a couple of hours’ head start on the rest of the media. “You’re welcome,” she said down the phone.
She’s releasing a statement at midday, announcing a review of the original investigation by the Independent Office for Police Conduct.
“Who are you?” Sylvie Donovan asks nervously. “What do you want?”
“It’s about Nicky,” I say. “I want to write about what really happened in Knapton Wood.”
Nicky’s mother sits wordlessly at first, then weeps for her dead boy and the years of loss she’s endured. And I take it all down.
“Annie Curtis rang me earlier,” Mrs. Donovan says when her cat settles on her lap. “Have you spoken to her? Poor woman. She didn’t know it, but she lost both her boys that day. It must have scarred Xander’s life. Knowing he’d done something so terrible. Even if it was an accident.”
“That is very generous of you, Sylvie,” I say.
“He was just a child,” she says. “And my son has his own sins to answer for.”
The fury I’d been expecting comes only when Nicky’s older sister arrives, eyes flashing, firing her accusations of police brutality into the air.
“Why wouldn’t they listen to him? They killed him,” she shrieks while her mother looks on in silence.
Afterward, I sit in my car outside for five minutes, letting my head calm. I know the attack on me has left me vulnerable—my skin thinner and emotions too close to the surface—but this case has shaken me more than any other I’ve covered. I can deal with uncontrollable, spitting anger—I’ve had to, a few times over the years—but this has hit me hard. I squeeze my eyes tight shut for a moment, then force them open and start the car, I’ve got to get going—Henry Curtis is due to make his first court appearance in an hour. But my hand trembles as I do up my seat belt.
EIGHTY-FIVE
KIKI
Monday, March 2, 2020
Xander is standing outside the court building with his mother and little brother when I turn the corner. Elise has released him on bail while the CPS make a decision. I walk slower so I can look at him—at the smooth face, the old eyes. Annie is beside him. She calls him her boy, but he’s a twenty-five-year-old man. Old enough to have his own boys.
“How are you doing?” I ask him on the court steps.
“He’s okay,” Annie says, voice brittle, not letting him answer. “Go in, Xander, and take Gav. It’s freezing out here.”
When the boys are out of earshot, she leans in to me and hisses: “We’ve had dog mess smeared on our front door, you know. We’ll have to look for somewhere out of the area to rent.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“This is all his fault.” Annie can’t even bring herself to say her husband’s name. “If he hadn’t chased after that woman, Xander wouldn’t have had his life ruined. His father screwed up his head with his vile secrets. He wouldn’t have gone looking for comfort from strangers. Archie…well, he would still be alive. And my boy would be getting ready for his wedding—you know his fiancée has dumped him? His father and that woman brought this down on us.”
She has squared her circle—Henry and Karen are the villains. Xander, the victim. I look at her bitter, thin face lit up by hate. It never fails to astonish me how people can reshape realities to suit.
Annie disappears inside as Cliff and Mary Simmons arrive, arm in arm, holding each other up.
“Go on in,” I say to them. “You don’t want to wait in the cold.”
“Our family liaison officer, Jenny, is just parking the car. We don’t want to go in without her,” Mrs. Simmons says. “And I don’t want to be anywhere near that family.”
“This is going to be very hard for you,” I say. “Coming face-to-face with your daughter’s killer.”
Mrs. Simmons nods, misery etched on her face. “But we need to. We need him to know that he is seen. That we are here. For Karen.”
Inside, I strip off my coat and take my seat in the press bench, to the side of the prosecuting team. There’s a moment of calm before proceedings kick off when barristers and instructing solicitors whisper strategy and the public gallery fills. Just in front of me, Annie Curtis is bracketed by Xander and Gavin, dwarfed by her protectors. Gavin is sitting too close to his mother, gnawing at his fingernails. And not looking at his big brother. His eyes go straight to his dad as Henry is brought up from the cells.
Henry John Curtis stands in the dock, looking wretched and old in a gray prison tracksuit. Annie Curtis doesn’t even look at him. She and Xander sit with hands entwined.
There’s a sudden shuffling of feet as everyone stands for the magistrates. I sit sideways to watch Xander Curtis as the charge is read to his father and his barrister makes applications. Xander isn’t even in the room. His eyes wandering. His mind elsewhere. I wonder where he is. What life will be like now.
He must feel my stare because he glances over at me, then lets his gaze drift to his loved ones and accepts his mother’s kiss on the cheek with a ghost of a smile.
EPILOGUE
