“Do you or Teigan ever get nosebleeds?”
He looked directly at me, as if he already knew the answer and was just waiting for me to say something wrong. The room was stuffy. No windows. Just a table and two chairs. If I didn’t know any better, I’d call this an interrogation. I wriggled slightly on the chair, trying to find a more comfortable position. But how comfortable would I ever be in a police station, really? Especially with DS Clarke sitting directly opposite me, clearly aware of something that I wasn’t.
My mind travelled back to the last time I was in a police station outside of work. It hadn’t been stuffy then; it was ice-cold. I remember sitting on the rickety seat, apparently custom supply for all police stations, with both hands resting protectively on my pronounced belly. The nice Detective, Detective Colliers, had got a blanket for me. He had kind eyes and a soft expression. But as I had answered his questions, I had gotten the feeling that he saw right through me. I remember asking where they’d taken her. She’s safe, he kept saying. Yes, I’d thought. She’s finally safe.
The heat of the room brought me back to the present. I pushed my cardigan sleeves as far up my arms as possible. I still felt clammy. When I’d returned to the house, it was littered in white powders and yellow cards. DS Clarke had been waiting, ready to take me to Wymondham police station to “answer some questions.” They must have found something. I hoped to God it wasn’t my memory box. No. They couldn’t have. It was nestled at the back of the wardrobe, hidden amongst various shoe boxes and old hoodies.
“Sorry?”
“Nosebleeds, you ever get them?”
“Not really. Once in a blue moon, I guess.”
“And Teigan?”
“The same, I suppose.”
“So, neither of you have had a nosebleed in, say, the last week?”
They’d found blood, clearly. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. My heart started thumping as my mind began to race. There was blood. In the house. Whose? I still couldn’t picture what had happened after our argument. Had I stormed out, leaving the place unlocked? Maybe someone had been watching and got in and attacked her? I swallowed down the bile that was rising up within me and started my mental calming mantra. Relax. Breathe. Keep calm. Keep looking to the sun, Petal.
“N-No,” I found my voice again. “No, I don’t think so.”
“You’d remember, surely?”
I wasn’t confident about that any more. “Yeah, I mean, no, we haven’t. Unless Teigan had one, and I didn’t know.” The room fell silent for a moment, then it came to me. “Oh, wait, yes! I cut my finger with a knife earlier this week — Tuesday, I think? No, Monday. I remember thinking it was a crappy start to the week.” He stared at me, his dark eyes trying to burn through into my mind. I carried on. “It bled quite badly, and I was running around trying to find kitchen roll, then went to the bathroom to rinse it. If you’ve found traces of blood, that’s why. It was dripping all over the place.”
DS Clarke kept his gaze on me, evidently trying to suss out whether I was telling the truth. “So, you’re happy for us to take a blood sample from you to check that?”
I nodded curtly. “Sure.”
“Good. I’ll get that sorted in a moment.”
I looked away, scared that my own doubts would be written all over my face. I took the opportunity to move the conversation along.
“Did you look at the list of unknown profiles I gave you? What about her phone, anything on there?” I looked back at him, my eyes full of hope. “If the phone in the park is just a coincidence, if she did just happen to drop it, then it’s still possible she might have run off with a friend, or some guy, to punish me because of the whole moving thing, isn’t it? Whoever gave her that bracelet, I’m sure it’ll be him.” It dawned on me that Teigan having a secret boyfriend that she’d run off with was now the more favourable option. The thought of that scared me.
Clarke turned back to face me, his hands relaxed by his side now. “Yes, well, the only fingerprints we could pull from the bracelet were yours, Ms Walker.”
I chided myself. What an idiot I had been to handle the bracelet — I’d been clutching the thing in my hand most of Friday night. I could have destroyed the only real way to get to Teigan. The lump in my throat hardened — I couldn’t think like that.
DS Clarke sighed and offered a gentle, reassuring smile. Perhaps he could sense I was getting close to tears again. “Look, the IT team is working their way through the list from Facebook. They’re also getting in to the phone as we speak, and the warrant from the phone company has come through, so we should get some more information soon as to who she’s been talking to. We’re on it.”
I nodded slowly. There wasn’t anything else I could do. That was the worst part, knowing all I could do was go home and hope.
DS Clarke stood, then opened the door and saw me out of the interview room. “Right, just go back down via reception and sign out before you leave.”
As I went to walk away, a freckly, ginger-haired man strolled up to DS Clarke, holding a laptop. I assumed he was part of the IT team. I stayed put.
“Sergeant, we’ve got something.”
I hovered closer at his words. What? What had they got?
“Ms Walker, you need to go sign out.”
“Is this about Teigan?” I pointed at the laptop.
“Ye–”
“Don’t answer that,” DS Clarke snapped at the IT guy.
He gawped. “Oh … uh. Sorry.”
“Ms Walker?” He gestured towards reception.
“I’m not going anywhere until I hear what this development is.”
“Actually,” the IT guy interrupted. “She could be helpful.”
DS Clarke rolled his eyes, giving in. “Okay. Fine. What is it?”
“We looked up that account, Ray ‘Dopeman’ Arthur.”
“Oh, yes,” I interrupted. “That was the weird one I found last night with no pictures of a person, just cars and that Jack Russell dog.”
“That’s the one, yes.”
I knew there was something off about that account. It had screamed dodgy. Everyone says that after the reveal, though, don’t they? I always knew there was something off about that Jimmy Saville. Yeah, sure you did.
“We traced the IP address, and we’ve managed to get him through another site. An old dating site, funnily enough.” The IT guy gave a little chuckle. “That’s always the way these days — all these people sign up to various dating sites over their lifetimes, and, bang, we’ve got them.”
“Who is it?” I felt like I was being pumped with adrenaline — maybe this was the person Teigan had run off with. The one who’d been grooming her with white gold bracelets. My imagination ran away with me, picturing the police turning up at his house and busting them, reuniting me with my precious daughter. I’d have her back, she’d be safe, and all the unwanted questions would stop.
He brought up a picture of a man with mousy brown hair with a messy cut about ear length. He was smiling and holding a spliff in one hand, the other patting a younger version of that bloody Jack Russell that had been all over his Facebook page. At first I was disgusted. He was my age, if not older. Then the cold chill settled into me. I knew those eyes … I leaned in closer, then shot upright, clasping a hand to my mouth in shock.
“I’m guessing by your reaction that you recognise this man?” said DS Clarke.
I nodded slowly and felt the colour drain from my face.
“That’s her father.”