The Night She Dies, page 10
The blog – hidden from public view rather than deleted – made for uncomfortable reading. There are no names, but it’s easy to work out who Lucy’s referencing. The evil ringleader and her flame-haired sidekick. She describes her gnawing fear, but that she doesn’t know what’s scarier: the physical threat of a blade or the relentless humiliation. The blogposts hold plenty of self-criticism too. How she feels weak, cowardly, pathetic for not being able to stand up for herself. But it’s the final piece that turned my discomfort into nausea. Posted on Friday afternoon. Describing how Amber had gone too far this time, that Lucy wouldn’t stand for it anymore.
And from the safety of her bedroom, what she craved.
I wish she was dead.
The only wisp of good fortune is that none of Lucy’s blogposts have hashtags, and she only has one follower – @cariad15, a profile without a photo. She explained to me that the purpose of the blog wasn’t to find a community, but just to expel her frustrations. And that of course she didn’t really want Amber dead.
I wrote a journal all the way through my teenage years, so I understand the need, but I wish she’d just put pen to paper like I did rather than upload it to the web. Because then we could have destroyed her writing, burned it on the fire or something. It sounds dramatic, but it’s the opposite. It would keep life simple, and make sure the police could concentrate on finding out who actually killed Amber.
‘I know how bad it reads,’ she murmurs. ‘But I never thought that something like this would happen.’
‘Of course you didn’t,’ I say, too quickly. I take a breath. ‘But I really don’t think the police will have come across it, so you have nothing to worry about.’ I think I believe it too. After all, it was just a silent cry for help into a virtual black hole. ‘Remember, you’re not a suspect.’
She nods, then gives me a half-smile. I squeeze her hand, then we both climb out of the car.
‘Thanks for coming in, Lucy, sorry to keep you waiting. I’m DC Bzowski.’ The detective drops into the chair opposite and places a thin cardboard file on the laminate table between us. She looks to be in her mid-twenties. Her dark hair is tied back, and her lips are glistening under a fresh layer of plum-coloured lipstick. She smiles at Lucy but doesn’t offer her hand, and I’m grateful for the lack of formality. I was expecting DI Finnemore to appear, but this is better; someone more junior. It makes the whole thing feel less important.
‘That’s okay,’ Lucy says. Her voice is singsong, and it highlights how young she is.
‘I won’t keep you long,’ the detective promises. ‘I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions and give you a chance to tell me anything you know that might help with the investigation.’ She pauses. I wonder if Lucy might ask for clarification, a fuller explanation of what might help uncover a killer, but she just nods.
As my mind wanders to the crime dramas I watch on TV, I realise something is different. ‘Don’t you normally record interviews?’ I ask.
‘It depends on the type of interview,’ the detective explains. ‘Lucy isn’t being interviewed under caution; this is just a chat, which is why we’re in here.’ She opens her palms and I glance around the room. Grubby white walls, thin carpet squares, and no recording equipment. ‘We’re actually hoping to set up an informal interview room at the school to talk to other students who knew Amber,’ she goes on. ‘But there’s some reluctance from the governors, and we were keen to get started while memories are still fresh.’
I smile, but it’s tight. It’s a relief to know Lucy’s words won’t be stored anywhere, but she must be high on their priority list if they’re not waiting to talk to her at school with the others.
‘Okay,’ DC Bzowski says, turning her attention back to Lucy. ‘Lucy, we spoke to Ms Munroe, and she explained that you’d told your teachers that you were being bullied by Amber and her half-sister Jessica Scott.’
‘Yes,’ Lucy whispers. ‘But …’ Her voice trails off. Thank goodness. I don’t want her blurting out another denial about murdering Amber.
‘And did things improve at all with Amber at any point before her death?’
‘No,’ Lucy murmurs, her shoulders hunching up.
‘Okay.’ DC Bzowski nods, moves on. ‘I understand there was a specific incident last Friday at school. Could you tell me what happened?’
‘They stole my sports bag,’ Lucy explains softly. ‘And then emptied it.’
‘That must have been upsetting.’
Lucy nods, pulls at her bottom lip.
‘And did you manage to recover all of your items?’
Lucy looks ashen for a moment, the trauma of remembering, then her expression clears. ‘Yes, eventually.’
‘I explained to DI Finnemore that Ms Munroe was dealing with the bullying,’ I say. ‘She asked me to go in after school on Friday, and when I left that meeting, I was confident that it was the beginning of the end. We both were, weren’t we, Lucy?’ I look at my daughter, willing her to agree with me, but she just stares back blankly.
‘Lucy, do you have a phone?’ DC Bzowski asks. Lucy gives her a small nod. ‘Would you mind telling me your number?’
I lean forward in my chair. Why is she asking this? Is she allowed to? Lucy looks at me but I’m no help. I stare back mutely, then give her a small nod. It’s fine; you’ve done nothing wrong. That now familiar trope.
I listen to Lucy whisper the eleven-digit number and watch as the detective checks it against a printout. I can see that she’s trying to keep her expression neutral, but a slight softening of her features gives her away. ‘Thank you, Lucy,’ she says, looking up at her. She waits a moment, then opens the file in front of her. ‘I have Amber’s phone records for Friday night here,’ she says. ‘They show that Amber sent you a text message at—’ she checks the printout ‘—7.22 p.m. And that you responded a couple of minutes later.’
Lucy blinks. My ribcage expands as I hold my breath. A text conversation? With the girl who was making her life a misery?
‘We are hoping that Amber’s sister will be able to give us the code to unlock Amber’s phone when she’s ready to talk to us, so that we can check the content of those messages, but in the interests of time, could you tell me what they said?’
Lucy catches my eye, silently begs for my help. But I don’t know what to say. I was primed to defend a threatening blog, not an exchange of text messages. I want to believe that Lucy just told Amber to leave her alone, but this is the second time she’s kept something from me, and I’m starting to question my grip on the situation. Eventually Lucy turns back to the detective.
‘She asked to meet me,’ she admits in a whisper.
‘Okay. And what did you say?’
‘Um.’ Lucy looks at me, the overhead light flickering against her blue irises. ‘I said no.’
The detective nods, like she believes Lucy. I hope she does, but I’m not sure I do anymore. ‘According to the records,’ she continues gently, ‘there are a further three text messages between you in quick succession, followed by an incoming phone call from your number. What else did you and Amber talk about?’
‘I don’t remember.’
The detective crinkles her brow, an exaggerated gesture, clearly for effect. ‘Really?’ she asks. ‘It wasn’t that long ago.’
‘Um …’ Lucy’s eyes skitter as she tries to find a coherent response. ‘I just told her to stop texting me,’ she finally offers.
‘Wouldn’t it have been easier to block her instead?’
‘I didn’t think …’
DC Bzowski suddenly flashes another one of her lipstick-framed smiles. ‘Okay. So to clarify, you didn’t go out to meet Amber on Friday night?’
I try to make eye contact with my daughter, but Lucy’s avoiding my gaze altogether now. I’m not sure whether that’s because she’s angry with me for not shielding her from DC Bzowski’s questions, or because she’s about to lie. Again. ‘No, I didn’t meet her,’ she says. ‘I called to say I was blocking her,’ she clarifies. ‘And to leave me alone.’
The detective leans back in her chair. She’s quiet for a moment, as though deciding what to say next. ‘Did you go out at all on Friday night?’ she finally asks. ‘I understand there was a big party in the village.’
Lucy’s eyes flit towards me again. I wish she didn’t look so guilty. ‘I didn’t go to the party,’ she says. ‘It was my sister’s best friend’s eighteenth, so it was mainly the Year Thirteens.’
‘So you stayed at home?’ the detective prompts. Her eyes have narrowed with focus and a burst of realisation explodes inside me. She knows Lucy went out. There must be CCTV or something, proof that she was roaming the streets – the village shops might have cameras, and some people have those video doorbells that pick up passers-by.
‘I went out for a bit,’ Lucy mumbles. ‘I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk around the village.’
‘What time was this?’ the detective asks. I try to blink at Lucy, as though she might be able to decipher the acronym CCTV from my frantic eyelids.
‘Around quarter to eleven.’ My chest shrivels. The lie is out, and I have no idea whether DC Bzowski can prove it or not.
‘On your own?’
‘At first, yes. Then Mum came and we walked home together. About half an hour later.’
‘And you definitely didn’t see Amber?’
‘No, sorry.’
Lucy’s voice is wobbling. I need to do something. ‘DC Bzowski, Lucy’s already told you she didn’t see Amber,’ I say. ‘Can we move on?’
The detective looks at me, her expression hard to read. ‘We’ve been checking CCTV from the post office, and a girl who looks a lot like Lucy passes by, but it was earlier than ten forty-five, before ten in fact.’
Lucy throws me a petrified look. ‘That’s strange,’ I ad-lib while my mind clatters through what to say next. The post office is on Keens Lane, around the corner from the parade of shops. Lucy wouldn’t come into view on the route to the church unless the camera has a very wide-angled perspective. ‘How clear are the images?’
‘Not hugely,’ the detective admits. ‘But we’re keen to work out who the girl is.’
‘Why her specifically?’ I ask. ‘I guess there were plenty of people walking past during the evening?’
‘There were, you’re right,’ DC Bzowski says. ‘But there are reasons why this person is of particular interest.’ She smiles again. I fight an urge to launch myself across the table, grab her shirt collar and demand a fuller explanation.
‘Lucy, have you ever smoked marijuana?’ the detective asks.
‘What? No.’
‘Taken ecstasy?’
Lucy shakes her head. ‘I’ve never done any drugs, ever.’
‘Do you drink alcohol then?’
‘Not really,’ Lucy murmurs, her confidence waning again. ‘I’ve tried wine a few times.’
‘Have you ever drunk vodka?’
I tense. Remember the bottle Lucy stole, the shards of glass hanging from its broken neck in the churchyard. ‘Why are you asking that?’ I say, wishing I didn’t sound so defensive.
DC Bzowski hesitates for a moment then apparently decides she wants us to know. ‘Preliminary reports on Amber’s clothing suggest that there were significant traces of vodka on both her top and jeans. The girl in the CCTV image was carrying a plastic bag with something heavy inside. We wondered if it might be a bottle of vodka.’
Email from DI Finnemore (SIO) to Det Supt Bishop
Subject: Wednesday 8th May update
Sir,
Hope conference is going well. Investigation is in a good place, I think. We have a suspect – but evidence is circumstantial at the moment and I’m conscious we need to strengthen the forensic case against them. Will update you as and when I have more concrete info.
Have received initial post-mortem results for victim (excludes toxicology, DNA, etc.). Cause of death was subdural haematoma. There was bruising and lacerations to the victim’s face and a fracture on the frontal bone of the skull, but the fracture that caused the fatal bleed was to the occipital bone at the back. Initial theory is that the victim was hit face-on with a weapon, causing her to fall backwards onto a rock which ultimately killed her. Blood spatter supports that. No weapon retrieved from scene, but based on size and shape of the front impact wound, plus evidence of tramline bruising, it’s likely to be a blunt cylindrical instrument. Possibly a baseball bat. Forensic team are looking at potential matches. But too narrow for a vodka bottle apparently – see later.
There were also cuts to the victim’s hand. Specks of glass were removed and sent for analysis. No evidence of sexual assault. Saliva detected on skin around mouth. Skin cells found underneath victim’s fingernails signifying some evidence of fighting back. Both sent off for DNA analysis. A couple of hairs found on victim’s top. No follicle on either so can’t retrieve DNA but don’t belong to victim. Long and light in colour – so could be cross-contamination from woman who found the body (Ms Salter). Will get a sample from her for the forensic team. All clothing swabbed. Awaiting results of blood analysis but clear smell of alcohol on victim’s top and jeans – best guess is vodka but waiting for confirmation.
Time of death between 10 p.m. and 4 a.m. so not overly helpful based on what we know already. Confirmed that murder took place at scene. No footprints found yet, but CSI are checking route back to the village. It rained quite heavily overnight so not optimistic. Perpetrator could also have driven – there is a car park a fifteen-minute walk south of the crime scene, away from the village. Tyre tracks from two cars visible despite the rain, but these may well be unrelated.
Victim’s sister has moved back in with foster carers but was difficult to interview. Very wary of me. Her mother was beaten to death by her partner – when Jessica was 8 years old, and in bed in the next room – so maybe not surprising. Decided not to ask for DNA sample (for elimination purposes) just yet – will wait for forensics before deciding if it’s necessary. Jess didn’t know the code to Amber’s phone unfortunately, so we only have phone records – and masts are over a kilometre apart, so triangulation results are too broad to be helpful. Jess did admit to knowing her sister wasn’t home at 23.00 – she texted her to ask where she was – but then she clammed up again. My guess is she fell back to sleep, and now feels guilty for it. And we have contacted Meta and Snapchat for access to those accounts but I’m not holding my breath.
CCTV from three shops in the village plus the post office and railway station car park has been collected for the ten hours between 20.00 Friday and 06.00 Saturday and we have started to look through it. Amber picked up three times between 20.12 and 21.47. Always alone. Nothing after that, but the uniforms confirmed she didn’t attend youth club at all. We have started interviewing students at Lord Frederick’s and there is a consistent narrative that the victim was dealing marijuana and ecstasy. Nothing found at the foster home, but toxicology and forensic reports might reveal more on that.
Both reports due tomorrow.
Simon
THE NIGHT SHE DIES
Friday 3rd May
Jess
Jess scrabbles around for her phone. She knows it’s on the duvet somewhere, but she’s too tired to sit up and look for it. Pulling that stunt with Lucy Rose’s sports bag, then getting bawled out by Munroe, has left her exhausted. Eventually her fingers graze over the cool glass screen. ‘She’ll just block you like she did me,’ she warns her sister as she scrolls through for Lucy’s contact details.
‘Just read out her number,’ Amber orders from the bottom bunk. She’s not even trying to pretend they’re equals this evening, and Jess feels a mix of anger and anxiousness. Amber was her usual sassy self when they went back to class after lunch, but she was different when they met up after school. Quieter. Which is never a good sign with Amber.
‘Lucy Rose will meet us tonight, trust me,’ Amber adds.
Jess rises up from her pillow and curls over the bed frame until she can see her sister. But her expression gives nothing away. ‘Why are you so sure?’
Amber tilts her head to meet Jess’s eye. ‘Because I found something in her school bag. Something important. At first I thought it could be bad for us, but then I realised it’s an opportunity. A chance to show Sean what I’m capable of.’
Jess curls back onto her mattress and stares at the ceiling. Her and Amber’s lives have never been good, or stable, or secure. There was time with their mum and Tyler, then a blur of temporary foster homes, followed by Lou and Justin’s, and now this place. But throughout it all, there have been moments when they’ve been able to forget about all that. Amber dressing up in Lou’s high heels and model-walking down a pretend catwalk. Jess feeding her entire meal to the neighbour’s visiting cat without Justin noticing, until the cat gave her away by throwing up on the carpet.
Maybe they’ve got too old, but that kind of fun doesn’t feel possible anymore.
With a sense of defeat, she reads out Lucy’s phone number and listens to Amber tapping on her phone. ‘What are you saying?’
‘Telling her what I’ve got. And to meet us at ten if she wants it back. We’ll be busy before then – I don’t even reckon we’ll have chance to show our faces at youth club tonight, because I promised two Year Thirteens that I’d sort them out in the rec before that big party, and I want to hang around the birthday girl’s house for a bit too, try to make a little extra cash. I’ll message Bill saying we’re back home – they’ll be in bed by then and won’t check – and then we’ll meet Lucy. It’ll be fully dark by ten too.’
