William Taylor was instantly recognisable from the profile picture Freddie had shown her. But unlike the bold teen making an LA gangland sign at the camera, this kid looked shrunken, pale under his naturally tanned skin. He had a battered Jack Wills rucksack slung over one shoulder, a play at nonchalant, which was undermined by his eyes hurtling rapidly between her, Freddie and Ms Bradshaw. Melisha had been petulant, but Ruby was a people pleaser – smiling at her and the teacher on the way in. With a bit more time Nasreen might have got her to talk. Though time wasn’t on their side. There were eleven missed calls on her phone. The voicemail notification flashed a livid spot on her screen. How many of those were from Saunders? Had Chips given her up when the photo came in? Time was slipping like silk through her fingers. There was something here, something the girls were trying to hide from them. If she could just find out what before she was recalled, before she had to face Saunders. Whatever it was the girls didn’t want them to know had something to do with William. They’d become defensive as soon as his name was mentioned.
She indicated for the lad to take a seat and laid her warrant card on the table between them, watching his gaze fix on it. His chest was heaving under his white school shirt, the sleeves rolled up, blazer shoved in his bag in what she guessed passed as a rebellious disregard for uniform in this school. He’d closed one strong hand over the fist of the other, but it wasn’t an aggressive stance, more as if he were trying to fold in on himself, fingers first.
‘Thanks for coming to talk to me.’
William was still staring at her ID, his knuckles stretched white with tension.
‘Nice watch.’ She pointed at the expensive designer piece on his wrist.
He covered it with one hand, as though she’d accused him of stealing it. ‘Birthday present.’
He’d never come in contact with the police before. Green had done a PNC check on all three kids. ‘Shall I call you William, or do you prefer Will?’
‘Either.’ He cleared his throat. His blond wavy hair was long, brushing his ears, like Harry Styles’. They would have looked a picture perfect pair, him and Chloe.
‘I’ll call you William, then.’ It said Will on his Facebook page. She didn’t want him to feel comfortable, she wanted him on edge. ‘I asked you here today, William, to see if you can help me with some questions about Chloe Strofton.’ His forearms pulsed. ‘I also spoke to Melisha Khan.’
His head jerked up. ‘What’d she say?’ His Adam’s apple bobbed.
‘Quite a lot.’ She let her hand rest on the table, next to her warrant card.
William ran his hand through his hair. Fidgeted. He was rattled.
‘She had a …’ Nasreen paused, watching as his eyes grew wider. ‘Lot of interesting things to say.’ His eyes were wide, panic danced across his eyebrows.
‘I didn’t do it!’ he said.
Ms Bradshaw made a small noise, but Nasreen didn’t let her gaze drop from the lad. ‘Didn’t do what, William?’
‘The pictures. I’ve told her. Melisha. But she just won’t believe me.’ He looked at Ms Bradshaw, as if asking for her help. All credit to her, she didn’t move, but Nasreen saw her hand brace against the window behind.
‘What pictures, William?’
He looked back at her. ‘The ones online. The naked ones. I swear – it wasn’t me!’
Ms Bradshaw took a sharp intake of breath. Nasreen saw Freddie’s mouth fall open. Naked photos? ‘Tell me about the pictures.’ She leant back as if she already knew what he was going to say; gave him space to talk.
‘It wasn’t me. I never sent them. I never even seen them till one of the lads on the rugby team showed me.’ His words spilled over themselves, as if he’d been trying to hold them in. ‘It was fucked up. Sorry, Miss,’ he said in the direction of the teacher. ‘Shouldn’t I have a lawyer or something?’ All the sheen of impending adulthood washed away, he looked like a little boy.
‘This isn’t a formal interview, William. I’m just trying to find out what happened to Chloe in the weeks leading up to her death.’ He nodded, relieved. This had clearly been a burden for him. If there were naked photos being shown round of the fifteen-year-old girl then no wonder Chloe had been distressed – why hadn’t the local force picked up on this? ‘Do you know who your friend – the one on the rugby team – got the photo from?’ They’d have to turn this over to the CEOP. Taking, possessing, and sharing indecent images of anyone under the age of eighteen was illegal.
‘I tried to delete it – took his phone off him. But there were more of them.’
‘More than one photo of Chloe?’
‘Yeah. Loads. And the whole team had them. They were all online. I tried to speak to Chloe. Like she was making herself look easy taking pics like that.’ Nasreen heard Freddie blow air through her teeth. William was still going. ‘But she went crazy. Screamed at me. She thought I took them. But I never. I mean, me and Chloe, we didn’t even have sex. I didn’t think she was that kind of girl.’
‘What do you mean that kind of girl?’ Freddie spat the words.
William looked, shocked, from Freddie to her. Nasreen held her hand up to silence her friend, feeling the heat of anger emanating from her. ‘Where online were these pictures of Chloe, William?’
‘There’s this website. It’s like a bulletin board. I thought it was like Ask.FM, you know? A laugh, like, it’s anonymous – you can post what you want. Rip the piss out each other, that sort of thing. But this was different. It has all these photos. Of, like, hot girls. And there were photos of Chloe on it. Like in her pants and bra, and other ones. Topless, you know? The whole year saw her like that.’ He stopped, looked pained.
‘What was the website called, William?’
He sighed. ‘It’s called Are You Awake.’
Nasreen saw Freddie swiping at her phone. ‘Ms Bradshaw, could we please speak to Melisha and Ruby again?’ She chose her words carefully. ‘This has illuminated things. William, I’ll need to arrange for you to speak to some of my colleagues. We’ll have to notify your parents.’ Alarm filled his eyes. She kept her voice low, even. ‘You’ve helped Chloe in telling us about this site. We will find out who was responsible for sharing these images and get them taken down.’ He nodded.
If Chloe had posted the images, and it had got out of hand … Nasreen didn’t want to think of what’d been going through the girl’s mind in the last few weeks of her life. William said Chloe had accused him of posting the images, which suggested she hadn’t uploaded them herself. She could imagine the humiliation, how she must have felt. Why had the girl taken the pictures? Why take the risk? Who had she sent them to, and who had repaid that intimacy by sharing them online? There was, she realised, a clear motive for why Chloe would want to take her own life.