Dr Bailey had finally given John the green light to see Andy at 11.30 am and he had driven straight over to St George’s Hospital with Adam Newman. He had decided to give Lucy a break, although he knows his motives aren’t exactly unselfish. Much as he admires Lucy’s tenacity, he feels the need to reassert his authority over this case and he wants to do a bit of digging.
He and the doctor are now standing outside Andy’s room talking in low voices, while Newman is loitering further down the corridor.
‘I’m happy for you to ask him a few questions,’ Dr Bailey says, ‘but you have to realise that his trachea is still very bruised and he can’t speak easily. The tube was only removed yesterday afternoon. We’re talking about yes or no answers. Don’t expect much more at this stage.’
‘I won’t,’ John says. ‘I’ll make it as brief as possible.’
‘Shall we go in, then, unless there’s anything else?’
‘Nothing for now. Yes, let’s go in.’
John beckons to Adam and they file into the room, where a nurse is wiping Andy’s face with a damp cloth. When she steps away, John can see the angry wheals on Andy’s neck and the dark shadows under his eyes. He feels a wave of sympathy for the young man lying on the bed with tubes trailing from both his wrists and surrounded by blinking machines. Whatever he has done, he is still a victim.
As John pulls up a chair, Andy’s eyelids flicker and he opens his eyes. John wonders, fleetingly, if Andy recognises him. If, as Irene told Lucy, Andy had spent many hours watching the comings and goings in Bramall Road through his attic window, he must have seen John on countless occasions.
‘Hello, Andy,’ he says gently. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Burroughs. I know you’ve had a very rough time, so we’re not going to stay long. I just want to clear some things up and I’m going to ask you a few questions, nothing complicated. You needn’t try to speak unless you feel you can. You can just nod or shake your head, if that’s easier for you.’
Andy remains motionless, his eyes fixed on John’s face.
‘Do you understand what I’m saying, Andy?’
The movement of Andy’s head is barely perceptible, but it’s enough to encourage John to continue.
‘You told your mum that you saw James Scott’s wife, Nicky, with another man on the night of her death. Is that right?’
A nod. Yes.
‘James Scott has been a very good friend to you, hasn’t he?’
Yes.
‘I imagine seeing that must have really upset you.’
Andy doesn’t react, so John continues.
‘As I understand it, your story is that when you let yourself into Michael Scott’s house, your intention was simply to confront Nicky and let her know what you had seen, but then something went very wrong. She was standing right there in the hall when you came through the door. She panicked and hit you hard with something. Is that correct?’
Andy nods again.
‘Did she hit you with her fist?’
Andy shakes his head.
‘Did she hit you with an object?’
Yes.
‘Where did she hit you? Can you move your hand to show me?’
Andy slowly lifts his right hand and moves it up to his left shoulder.
‘I know it’s difficult for you to speak, but I need to know what that object was. Are you able to tell me?’
Andy’s mouth opens slightly and he whispers something that John can’t hear.
‘Can you repeat that, Andy?’
John moves his head closer to Andy’s.
‘Are you saying, “a torch”?’
Andy nods again.
‘Do you remember what happened after she hit you?’
Yes.
‘Did you strike her?’
A nod. Yes.
‘With the torch?’
Yes.
‘This next question is very important, Andy, so you need to think very carefully before you answer, okay?’
Again, Andy nods.
‘What happened to the torch?’
Andy’s eyes open wider and he looks left and right before bringing his gaze back to John’s face.
He doesn’t answer.
‘I’m going to give you a few options and you can tell me if any of them are right, okay?’
Andy looks at him but doesn’t reply. Their eyes lock for a few seconds and Andy closes his eyes momentarily. John is taken aback to see a single tear slide down the young man’s face, but he doesn’t want to stop the questions now as he knows he will lose his momentum.
‘Did you remove the torch from the house?’
Andy nods.
‘Did you take it home?’
Again, a nod.
‘Is it still there?’
Andy shakes his head.
‘What happened to it, Andy? Did you dispose of it somewhere?’
Yes.
‘Did you bury it?’
No.
‘Did you throw it away?’
Yes.
‘Where did you throw it away, Andy?’
Every question has been leading to this. John leans closer to the bed and his heart sinks when he hears Andy whisper a single word. ‘Bin.’
He sits back in the chair and looks at Andy, whose tears are flowing freely now.
‘Where, Andy? Where was the bin?’
John leans forward once again and Andy whispers so quietly John isn’t sure he hears properly.
‘Did you say the Common, Andy?’
Yes.
‘You threw the torch in a bin on Clapham Common?’
Yes.
‘You’re absolutely certain?’
‘Yes,’ Andy whispers and this time John can hear him perfectly.