‘From Ava’s party. I had a blister, and you took pity on me.’ A moment of silence. Milla’s heart punches her ribcage.
‘Yes, of course,’ he finally offers. ‘I’d forgotten about that.’ He smiles at the detectives.
‘And what time was this?’ DC Bzowski asks.
‘I’m not sure exactly.’ Matt tilts his head. ‘Maybe twelvish? Or a bit later?’
‘And did you see anyone at the party?’ the detective asks.
‘Yes,’ Matt says. ‘Ava’s mother.’
Milla shifts in her chair. This is news to her, actual human contact, but at least her dad remembered in time to cover himself.
‘Milla and I had our wires crossed,’ he goes on. ‘I thought she was still at the house, but she was waiting for me further up the road.’
‘And you didn’t go anywhere else? Just to the Ainsworths’ house and back?’
‘I … um, yes, that’s right … I took the long way home though, so I did a full loop of the village.’
‘Thank you, Mr Rose, for clearing that up,’ DI Finnemore says. But her dad doesn’t look relieved, and Milla understands why. Those timings relate to when she was missing. He must have remembered speaking to Ava’s mum and so prioritised covering up for that. But he was out earlier too, searching for Lucy, so how is he going to explain that if they ask?
‘There is another thing we’d like to discuss with you,’ the detective goes on.
Milla shuffles against the sofa cushion.
‘I believe you’re aware that Jessica Scott has gone missing?’
Milla concentrates on her breathing. She’s never had a panic attack before, but one feels dangerously close now. Colour is draining from her dad’s face too. Can the detectives see it?
‘Yes,’ her dad whispers. ‘I heard that she’s run away.’
‘Maybe.’ DC Bzowski purses her lips. ‘How well do you know her?’
‘I don’t know her at all. Well, not personally. She was bullying Lucy with her sister, so I know of her.’
‘Are you aware that Jessica was a student at Oxford Comprehensive before moving to Chinnor?’
Matt doesn’t answer. He’s so still, Milla isn’t even sure he’s breathing. She wonders if she should nudge him.
‘No, I didn’t know,’ he finally says. He rubs his bare head with the heel of his hand.
‘Or that she has links to the victim of the assault you were charged with?’
‘No,’ Matt repeats, his eyelids flitting like butterfly wings. ‘What links?’
‘We can’t disclose that,’ DC Bzowski says quietly.
Milla’s mind whirs. Why can’t they disclose that? If Jess was friends with Sean Russo, surely they’d just say so? And anyway, it would be weird if they were friends. Sean was nearly 17 when he accused her dad, and Jess is only 15 now, so there’s a big age gap. But how else could she be linked to him? They can’t be family. There’s no way it’s anything wholesome like church or scouts.
Milla’s mouth suddenly fills with saliva, as though she’s going to be sick, and she swallows hard. Her dad was first summoned to the headmaster’s office when Sean Russo turned up at school with a black eye and then made his false claim. But it was only when a witness came forward that things got really bad for him. He was suspended straight away, but Mr Pearson kept in touch for a while, and it was during one of their phone conversations that he let slip that the witness was female. But her dad never knew who she was.
At least that’s what Milla had thought.
Could Jess Scott be the mystery witness? Is that her link with Sean Russo?
Whoever it was, they pulled their statement fifteen months later, a year ago now. Milla never questioned why the witness changed her mind – no one in her family did, they were too busy celebrating – but should she have? If it was Jess, could her dad have got to her somehow?
But that doesn’t make sense because Jess and Amber moved to Chinnor after the case was dropped, not before.
Milla lurches forward in her chair with a sudden adrenalin spike, then shifts back slowly as both detectives turn to stare at her. She gives them a relaxed smile, but inside she’s reeling. Did the girls come here on purpose? Wangle a move to Chinnor somehow? Christ, Amber might just have the smarts to do it. But why would they do that unless they wanted to make trouble for her dad?
Did Jess pull her statement so they could inflict their own style of justice? Punish her dad by making his daughter’s life hell instead? Anger throbs in her chest at the thought. Two fucked-up social care kids and a roadman – of course they wouldn’t trust the police, the courts, to defend them. And yeah, maybe they’ve got a point. But taking it out on Lucy? That is too fucking low.
Milla tries to keep her expression clear, calm, in front of the detectives, but damn, it’s hard. Her dad followed her on Friday night, so he was the last person to see Jess. And she might well be the person who ruined his career, and almost his life, before doing the same to his daughter to twist the knife even more.
His favourite daughter. Milla has always known that.
She thinks about the note. My dad will kill you. She chose the words and typed them.
But could it be possible that he carried them out?
AFTER
Monday 13th May
Rachel
My eyes are open, but the room is so dark I can barely see anything. There’s tape across my mouth, sticking to the dry skin on my lips, so I can only breathe through my nose. I know the most important thing is to not panic – that clamouring for oxygen will have the opposite effect – so I close my eyes and try to imagine I’m somewhere else. Lying in my bed at home, Matt snoring beside me; the kids asleep in their respective rooms.
But it’s hard to pretend because my hands are tied together behind my back, and my upper arms are straining in their unnatural position. My legs are clamped together too, at both the knees and the ankles. I’m lying on my side, staring at a thin line of dim light slipping under the door.
When Sean hit me, I rode the pain, but then the bag was over my head a second later. I should have either engaged him in conversation, or tried to kick and punch my way out, but I did neither. I was too disorientated. And then he dragged me into this room, heavy curtains shut tight, and flung me on the bed. My urge to fight finally kicked in at that point, but I was no match for his strength. Despite my flailing arms and legs, he had me tied up in minutes. The bag came off, but he pasted tape across my mouth. He stared right through me for what felt like ages, then twisted around, flicked the light switch, and left the room.
It was a relief then, but that was almost an hour ago. My muscles are sore, and I’m desperate to pee. I also need to know why I’m here. Yes, Sean saw the wallpaper on my phone and worked out who my husband is. But is that really enough for him to tie me up like this? Kidnap me? The incident happened over two years ago, and it’s not like I was directly involved.
Perhaps it’s because this kind of violence is normal for him. He’s high. He’s already been in a fight today. And he seemed paranoid when he came to the door. Is this about Jess? Has he hurt her too, or done something worse?
And if he’s capable of this, could he have been involved in Amber’s murder as well?
The door swings open. I gasp, but the tape across my mouth means it’s more of a chest heave. His shadow appears. I body pop away from him. There’s a click and the room fills with light. I close my eyes against the sudden glare, then gradually peel them back open. There’s wallpaper on the walls, a soft lilac, and the bedspread is pale green. Tranquil. In different circumstances. It must be his mum’s bedroom. I feel a jolt of compassion, him still keeping it nice after she died. But then I zoom in on his sallow face, and the feeling evaporates. His fists are clenched, like before, but now one of them is holding something. A knife. It’s small, like a Kitchen Devil, but it’s still a weapon.
He rips the tape away from my mouth, holds the knife up at his shoulder, like he’s going to jab me with it. ‘What do you want?’ he demands. ‘Why did you come here?’
I force myself to take a long, controlled breath. ‘Not to hurt you,’ I say. ‘Not to blame you for anything. And I wasn’t lying about being a social worker.’
‘You said I’d hurt Jess.’ He lowers the knife, then lifts it again, as though remembering I’m his enemy. ‘I haven’t touched that stupid bitch, okay?’
‘I’m sorry,’ I lie. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I actually thought she might come to you for help.’
