Five days earlier
‘Sorry about the mess,’ I say, when I open the door to Mum’s office, the cramped little room on the first floor of the house that I used as my base of operations while making Born Killer.
The last time I left Westhaven, I promised Dad I’d be back soon to collect all of my paperwork and equipment, but in the end couldn’t face the idea of bringing it all back to London, into our family home. So here it sits, like some sort of cursed museum.
The desk is cluttered with equipment, including the big old desktop PC I used to use for putting together rough cuts of interviews, and the bookshelves are overflowing with film magazines, notepads, folders of interview transcripts and shooting scripts. The walls are covered almost entirely in paper: a map of Westhaven, a timeline of events, photographs, photocopies and newspaper clippings.
I step over a cardboard box marked ‘Interviews: Jan 2015’, move a stack of memory cards off a swivel chair that no longer swivels, then lean over the desk to switch the lamp on. A soft yellow light is cast around the room and I take a seat, side-saddle, so I can face the girl. I gesture for her to sit on the sofa, beneath the room’s only window.
‘So, you know my name, but I don’t know yours,’ I say.
She sits down, sinking into the soft leather. ‘Um … it’s Chloe.’
Chloe looks small and afraid. How old is she? I wonder. Fifteen, sixteen maybe? I’m going to have to tread carefully here.
‘And you said you were friends with Evan?’
She brushes her dark fringe out of her eyes and gives me a shrug. ‘I said we were sort of friends. I mean, we hung out sometimes. We were in the same class for some subjects. Mostly he was just …’ Her voice contracts to a whisper, ‘around’.
There’s a sudden blast of music from elsewhere in the house and Chloe shoots a glance towards the door.
‘It’s OK,’ I tell her, recognising the first few gentle piano chords of ‘So What’, the first track on Kind of Blue. I hope the music isn’t so loud that it wakes Freya, and Dad must have the same thought because after a moment the volume dips. ‘It’s just my dad, listening to old records,’ I tell Chloe. ‘You’re safe here. Plus, it means he won’t be able to hear a word we say. Nobody will.’
She nods, then releases a trembling breath.
I give her a gentle nudge. ‘You were saying?’
‘Oh, just that … I don’t think Evan had any proper friends, not really.’ She looks down at her lap, drums the fingers of one hand against the palm of the other.
‘OK. So, you went to the same school and were sort of friends, but you weren’t close?’ She nods. ‘And you said you have some information about what happened to him?’ Another nod. ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’
She gives a little twist of the mouth, as if I’ve forgotten something important.
‘Aren’t you going to film me?’ she asks, and I realise what this is.
She knows I made Born Killer, and must think I’ve come back to Westhaven to shoot another documentary.
‘I’m not filming anything right now,’ I tell her. ‘I’m just here for myself. To see my dad, catch up with old friends.’ I almost leave it there, but worry she’ll think I don’t want to hear what she has to say, so I add, ‘Plus, Evan’s murder has some similarities to the case I covered in Born Killer. I thought I should be here, just in case anything comes up.’ In case Amy’s murderer has waited fifteen years to kill again.
She lets out a small gasp of disappointment. ‘Oh. It’s just that, when I heard you were back, I thought you were, y’know …’ She trails off, then a moment later pulls in a sharp breath, says, ‘Just so you know, if you did want to film me, I’d be OK with that. I wouldn’t mind. Honest.’
It can take days, even weeks of gentle coaxing to persuade some people to go in front of the camera, but Chloe wants to be filmed. Why is that? I wonder. Because she’s a Born Killer fan, and would get a kick out of being interviewed? Or because she wants whatever she has to say to go on the record?
‘Even if I wanted to film you, I couldn’t,’ I explain. ‘For one thing, I don’t have my equipment with me. For another, I’d need your parents’ consent. Do your mum or dad know you’re here?’
‘It’s just my dad,’ she says, matter-of-factly. ‘And no, he doesn’t know. Nobody does. It’s just that … Born Killer is, like, my favourite show ever. I was totally obsessed when it came out.’
There’s a sudden change in her, a spark in her eyes that I’ve seen before, in the fans who come up to me at events, or approach me in the street, to say how much they enjoyed the show, or to ask what Connor is like in real life.
Chloe goes on, ‘My dad says I’m weird for liking stuff like that. I mean, I know not everyone enjoys watching documentaries about murders, but I think it’s interesting, y’know?’ She takes a breath, as if building herself up for a big announcement, then says, ‘When I first saw Born Killer, it was like a lightbulb turned on in my head. Before then, I always wanted to be an actress, but now I want to make documentaries, like you. I’m planning to go to film school, once I’ve finished my A levels.’
A feeling of warmth spreads through me. Maybe Born Killer did some good after all.
‘That’s great,’ I say. ‘But you don’t have to go to film school to make documentaries.’
‘I don’t?’
‘Absolutely not. You’ve always got a camera with you, right?’ I pat the hip pocket of my jeans. ‘So, just find a story you want to tell and start filming. Or start filming and see what story finds you.’
Chloe digs her phone out of her pocket and turns it over in her hands, as if seeing it anew.
‘Huh, I never thought of it like that,’ she says, which strikes me as odd, because these days, thanks to YouTube and TikTok, kids are used to shooting video on their phones. Some become millionaires doing just that by the time they’re Chloe’s age. Though I suppose there’s a world of difference between filming thirty-second clips of you and your friends, dancing to the latest Harry Styles track, and making a ten-hour true crime documentary.
‘That’s cool,’ Chloe says, the trace of a smile on her lips. Then she shakes her fringe out of her eyes with a quick flick of the head, just the way Amy used to, and says, ‘Can I ask you a question?’
What I really want to do is talk about Evan Cullen, but the first rule of interviewing is to build a rapport with your subject, to make them feel at ease. If sharing a few more words of wisdom with Chloe will do that, then so be it.
‘Go ahead,’ I say. ‘Ask anything you like.’
‘Could you tell Connor was innocent, right from the start?’ she says. ‘I mean, did you ever have any doubts?’
I shake my head. ‘Never. I mean, don’t get me wrong, Connor was no angel. He was always getting in trouble with his teachers, and sometimes with the police. Most of the time he deserved it, but sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he got blamed for things because of who he was, rather than what he’d done.’
‘Right,’ Chloe says. ‘Like when he was accused of stealing that car, only he was with you and your friends when it happened, so he couldn’t have done it.’
‘Exactly,’ I say, impressed that she’s remembered this relatively minor detail from Born Killer. ‘And here’s something you might not know. That car was involved in a hit and run, so if we hadn’t spoken up for Connor when we did, he might have ended up in prison even sooner.’
‘Huh,’ she says. ‘Why did the police hate him so much?’
‘Well, people weren’t quite so understanding back then. When they looked at Connor, they didn’t see a troubled kid who needed help and support, they saw a lost cause.’
‘That’s sad,’ Chloe says.
‘It is,’ I agree. ‘Maybe, if he’d had a different start in life, he’d wouldn’t have got into so much trouble. And when it came to Amy, I know he cared for her very much. He’d never have hurt her. Someone else put her in that well, I’m certain of that.’
‘Maybe the same person who killed Evan?’ Chloe says, her eyes going wide.
‘Probably not,’ I say. ‘But I’d like to rule that out.’
She looks more at ease now and I decide it’s time to bring the conversation back to Evan.
‘Now, do you want to tell me—’ I begin, but she interrupts.
‘Do you think I could help you?’ she asks, and perhaps because the moment I first saw her, standing in the hallway, looking like the ghost of my dead best friend, is still lodged in my mind, something about her question catches me off guard. An absurd image comes to mind of Chloe, leaning forward and laying hands on me, like some sort of healer, as if she has the power to absolve me of all my sins.
‘Help me?’ I find myself saying.
‘You know, like, follow you around and stuff? Run errands, see how you do things? I know you’re not making a documentary right now, but I bet there’s still stuff I could learn. And it’s half-term, so I’m off school all week anyway.’
I come back to earth. Christ, what’s wrong with me? She’s not some magical healer. She’s just a kid, looking for work experience – work experience I have absolutely no intention of giving her.
‘I’m not sure that would be a good idea,’ I tell her. ‘I doubt your dad would be very happy about you getting involved in a murder investigation.’
She shrugs. ‘He might be OK with it, if you talk to him. You could tell him it could help my film school application.’
At her age, I’d have given anything for some experience with a real film director. But despite that, and the pleading look in her eyes, the last thing I need right now is a teenager getting under my feet. It’s going to be difficult enough trying to make enquiries with one child to take care of, never mind two. But I want to know what she knows.
I lean back and open one of the drawers in Mum’s old desk, feel around for sticky notes and a pen, find both and hand them over.
‘No promises,’ I say. ‘But give me your dad’s contact details and I’ll think about it.’
Chloe grins. ‘Great! You won’t regret it, I swear.’
I feel bad, giving her false hope like this, because I’ve no intention of calling her dad, but sometimes to get what you want out of an interviewee, you need to make them feel like they’re getting something in return.
Chloe writes down an email address. ‘I’ll give you his number too,’ she says. ‘Probably best if you speak to him, y’know, given there’s, like, an actual murderer running around.’
She cringes, aware that her words might come across as insensitive, and I smile to let her know it’s OK. People react in all sorts of strange ways around death. When grief breaks us open, all sorts of emotions come spilling out.
Chloe hands over the sticky note and I take it from her.
‘So, I’ve answered your questions,’ I say. ‘Now, how about you answer some of mine?’