‘Will you come with me to talk to the detective?’ Lucy asks.
‘Of course.’
‘And step in if he asks any difficult questions?’
I want to ask what she means by that, what questions she’d consider difficult. But I don’t want to risk losing any ground I’ve made, so I just nod and smile instead. ‘Listen, dinner’s almost ready. I’ve made a green Thai curry.’ The Asian dish is Lucy’s favourite, and I’ve cooked it on purpose because she’s hardly eaten since the incident at school on Friday. Or since I found Amber’s body, it’s hard to tell what sparked her lack of appetite.
‘Amazing, thank you.’ She smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and I ride a wave of sadness. Then I smile too – perhaps if we all pretend everything’s fine, it will become so – and I head back into the kitchen.
‘Nearly as good as it tasted in Bangkok,’ Matt decrees, taking another mouthful.
‘Ignore him,’ Milla cuts in. ‘It’s delish.’ She swirls her fork through the dish, mixing the curry sauce with the rice, then takes a large mouthful. Both of my children have a healthy relationship with food, and I’ve always been grateful for that. Except it doesn’t look that way anymore.
‘Are you not hungry, Lucy?’
Lucy looks up, startled, as though her mind was elsewhere. ‘What? Sorry. I guess I’m just a bit nervous about tomorrow.’
‘What’s tomorrow?’ Milla asks, shovelling another mouthful in.
‘Oh, DI Finnemore – that’s the detective who’s leading the investigation into Amber Walsh’s death – has asked me to take Lucy into the police station for a quick chat,’ I say, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘Just because she knew Amber, and they’re trying to get a fuller picture of who she was.’
Milla puts down her fork. Her face suddenly drains of colour. ‘But Lucy hardly knew Amber – she stayed as far away from her as possible.’
‘I know, I did mention that.’
‘So what can she add to the investigation? I think you should tell him she can’t do it. Say she’s sick or something.’
I narrow my eyes, shift my gaze between my daughters, who seem to be purposely not looking at each other. Have they already talked about this? They can’t have discussed it face to face – Milla was upstairs until I called her down for supper – but Snapchat is their preferred form of communication these days. ‘I’ve already been over this with Lucy,’ I explain. ‘It’s just a chat. Lucy can explain that she never really knew Amber, and that will be it.’
‘But Amber was bullying Lucy. The police might think that gives Lucy motive to kill her. And you know what they’re like – once they decide someone’s guilty, they twist the evidence to prove it.’ Milla turns to Matt. ‘Don’t they, Dad?’
Matt’s smooth head has a new shine, a glean of sweat. ‘Milla, you can’t apply what happened to me to every police investigation.’ He sounds guarded, like he’s hiding whatever emotions are bubbling underneath. ‘I know you’re just looking out for your sister, but Lucy would appear more guilty if she didn’t go.’
‘But you were innocent,’ Milla throws back.
‘True. But for some unknown reason, there was a witness claiming I wasn’t. No one is going to say they saw Lucy killing Amber Walsh, are they?’
Milla stares at Matt but doesn’t answer straight away. She drags her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘No, of course not,’ she finally mutters. ‘I just don’t like that the evil little bitch is still causing her grief, even when she’s dead.’
‘Milla!’ I snap. Lucy is sitting opposite me. Her head is down, but I can hear her breathing become more ragged.
‘Let’s talk about something else,’ Matt suggests, lining his cutlery up on his empty plate. ‘How was school today, Milla?’
‘It was fine.’
‘Care to expand on that?’
Milla lets out a loud sigh. ‘We had a talk about dealing with exam stress. It’s all about breathing apparently.’
‘And good preparation,’ Matt reminds her, still a teacher at heart.
‘Can I leave the table?’ Lucy asks, pushing to standing. ‘I’m not hungry and I’ve got loads of homework to do.’
I sigh, nod, and watch my daughter disappear through the doorway. When I’ve finished my meal, I push my plate towards the centre of the table.
‘Why don’t you go and sit down,’ Matt says. ‘I’ll clear up.’
‘We could both go, leave the dishes until later?’ I know Matt doesn’t like walking away from a messy kitchen, but I’m impatient to talk to him about tomorrow, get his advice on how to handle the police. But he gives me one of his disparaging looks, then reaches for my plate.
I shake my head in defeat and walk through to the living room. I had planned to stop there, switch the TV on. But Matt’s inflexibility has annoyed me, and the industrious banging and clattering from the kitchen is hurting my ears. So I climb the stairs and push on Lucy’s bedroom door. She’s not in there, but the sound of a toilet flushing from behind the bathroom door explains her absence. I’m about to step back, to wait for her to appear, when some words on her laptop screen catch my eye. After a split second of indecision, I walk into her bedroom.
The website is familiar – Google’s search engine is endemic across the world – but the search request sends a shiver through my whole body. Poor Lucy. The words she’s typed don’t incriminate her in Amber’s murder, of course they don’t, but they do explain why she’s scared about talking to the police. Why she’s worried they’re going to ask some difficult questions.
I feel a shadow behind me. Lucy, standing in the doorway. I turn, and our eyes connect for a moment, before we both shift our gaze to the computer screen, and the question Lucy has typed.
How do you hide a blog from the police?
AFTER
Wednesday 8th May
Rachel
I cut the engine and lean back against the headrest. ‘Are you ready?’ I ask gently.
‘I’m scared, Mum. What if they’ve found the blog? All the stuff I’ve been writing about Amber and Jess?’
‘It will be fine, I promise.’ When Lucy realised that I’d seen her search criteria last night, she’d wavered for a moment, angry with me for invading her private space, but relieved that she could finally open up about what’s been eating away at her since Saturday morning. And relief won out because she’d sunk onto her bed and told me everything. How she’d set up the blog a couple of months ago, in an anonymous name, but using her regular email address which is linked to our IP address at home. That she’d taken it down as soon as she heard about Amber’s death but is paranoid that the police will still be able to find evidence of it.
