Sean is standing by Megan’s bedside, holding a bunch of wilting petrol station flowers in one hand, the other on her forehead. It’s a tableau from one of my more disturbing dreams where Sean is back in our lives as if nothing happened and I am mute and immobile, but this isn’t a dream.
‘Get away from her!’
This explodes from me with enough force to startle Sean into taking a step back from the bed, giving me time to plant myself between him and Megan, arms outstretched, guarding her against him.
‘I’m still her dad.’
His entitled ‘I’ll do what I want’ tone sickens me. You’re my wife. If I want to hit you, I will.
‘No, you’re not. You never were. Now get out.’
He shakes his head at what he sees as my unreasonableness.
‘For God’s sake, Ally, calm down. I’ve only come to see how she is.’
‘We don’t want you here. Megan is terrified of you. Just go.’
His eyes invite me to make him leave and he stands his ground. No one pushes Sean around, especially not a woman. Then he moves closer to me. He has a foot on me and uses this to the full, leaning over me, reminding me of his strength and what he’s capable of.
‘She was pleased to see me at school the other day.’
I let out a dismissive laugh that I didn’t know I was capable of, which again disorientates Sean because he’s never heard it before, nor seen the sneer on my face, but it feels good. I’m not frightened of him, not any more.
‘She was pretending, you prick. It’s called fear – fear that unless she behaves the way you want her to, you’ll hurt her.’
‘What? I would never hurt her. It’s you. You’ve turned her against me.’
He might be up for a row, but I’m not.
‘Just leave us alone, Sean.’
‘No, I’ve every right to see my stepdaughter.’
He’s enjoying the drama of it all. Christ, he’s probably been telling his mates down the pub that the girl that was attacked is his and that he’ll be the one to bring her out of her coma because her mother is useless.
‘I said, get out.’ This time my voice is loud enough to bring two nurses running into the room. One look at the size of Sean brings them to an abrupt halt and they huddle in the doorway.
‘This man isn’t a relative. He shouldn’t be here and I want him to leave.’
‘She’s lying. I’m Sean Parker. This is my stepdaughter, Megan Parker.’
‘I want him out. Now.’
One of the braver nurses steps into the room and takes Sean’s arm.
‘Sir, you’ll have to leave, otherwise we’ll call security.’
He snatches his arm back. His eyes never leave mine.
‘This is your fault. If I’d have been around, this would never have happened. This isn’t the end of it.’
The nurses accompany him out. He glares at me through the window, his face hard with fury. He’s not used to losing and certainly not to me.
I turn to Megan and pray none of this permeated her consciousness. I sit on her bed and lean over her, navigating the tubes and wires, to enclose her in my arms in an awkward one-sided embrace.
‘I’m so sorry, Meggy. I didn’t know he was going to be here.’
But it’s too late. I’ve let her down again. That’s what she said to me when she overheard my conversation with Sean at her school. You always let me down. And she’s right.
I know what a monster Sean is. I should have known he would do something like this. I should have stopped him, but I didn’t. I stood by and let it happen just like I did all those years ago. I didn’t protect Megan from Sean and I didn’t protect her from whoever did this to her.
I stroke Megan’s hair releasing an almond aroma, her favourite shampoo.
‘No more excuses, Megan. I promise.’
Holt appears in the doorway. I intercept him before he gets any further and we step into the corridor outside Megan’s room.
‘You OK? I heard there was a problem with your ex. He told the PC he was her dad, so he let him in. The idiot. He could have been anyone. Anyway, I’ve bollocked him for it. Your ex won’t be allowed anywhere near her again.’
‘Thanks.’
‘How’s Megan?’
My smile relaxes him slightly.
‘Actually, she’s starting to respond so the signs are positive. We’ve just got to wait.’
‘Ally, that’s great news.’
He’s genuinely pleased. He’s already lived this a hundred times in a hundred different cases, but when it’s one of the police family it crosses some invisible threshold, and it’s felt more keenly.
‘What about you? How’s the investigation going?’
Who did this to you, Megan?
‘Good. So the blood on the steel pole found near the scene is Megan’s. Jake also appears to have got a partial fingerprint from it.’
‘That’s good. Anything on the system?’
‘No. Nothing. It’s a good print, so whoever did this hasn’t got a criminal record.’
I don’t know why, but the news doesn’t surprise me.
‘OK.’ My mind is still trying to wrap itself around the idea Megan’s attacker dropped the weapon – complete with blood and fingerprints on it – but remembered to get rid of Megan’s phone and not leave any other forensics at the scene. Did Jake miss something? He’s very inexperienced. It’s entirely possible. Holt told me he’d done the scene alone because they couldn’t get hold of any CSIs from the south of the county to help and the weather was closing in. I don’t blame Jake. I should have been there. ‘Anything else? What about her laptop?’
‘Digital forensics has turned her laptop inside out.’
‘Did you get into her social media accounts?’
‘We did.’
‘And?’
His expression tells me it’s not good news.
‘Nada.’
‘Nothing at all?’
‘Nope. She didn’t use social media that much. She’s got a few pictures of Morte Sands on her Facebook and Instagram. A couple with her friends at the park. That’s it.’
‘What about her private messages?’
‘The usual. Lots of conversations about the teachers she hates, the boys she fancies at school, how unreasonable you are etc., etc. Like I said, the usual.’
‘Nothing else? No conversations about going to Barnston to see someone?’ I ask.
‘No. If she arranged to meet someone, she didn’t do it through her social media.’
We both look at Megan like she’s let us down.
‘I don’t understand it. I was sure you’d find something. Jay said he thought she was interested in someone.’
‘You spoke to Jay Cox?’
‘By accident. I happened to see him on my way back to Bidecombe this morning.’
Holt isn’t happy about this but keeps it to himself.
‘Well, if she was, she wasn’t talking to him on Instagram. Everyone on her messaging system has been accounted for. Unless she has another account. Is that possible?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I don’t know why she’d bother.’
‘What about other devices? Although you can have more than one account on the same phone.’
‘No, she only has one phone. If you let me have her social media passwords, I could take a look at those messages for you.’
‘You know I can’t do that.’
‘Please, Bob. I’ll have a far better chance than you guys of spotting something suspicious, something that doesn’t sit right.’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘Look, we can just keep it between ourselves. If I see something, I’ll tell you. If I don’t, no harm done.’
He stares at me, weighing the options. Then he takes a pen and an old receipt from his pocket and jots down a jumble of letters and numbers and hands it to me.
‘You didn’t get this from me.’
‘Thank you. I’ll have a look later. So, what are your thoughts at the moment?’
‘That she was in the wrong place at the wrong time.’
My insides cave. It’s the theory detectives trot out when they don’t have much of a clue. The victim was unlucky. It could have been anyone. The problem is it’s rarely true. Most attackers know their victims, but I’m not going to argue. Holt doesn’t have to tell me any of this. He’s doing it because I’m in the job, but if I contradict him, he’ll more than likely withdraw this privilege, so I go with it. For now.
‘OK. Are there any witnesses?’
‘None that have come forward.’
‘Really? A young girl is attacked in broad daylight and no one saw anything?’ Holt shrugs. It happens. ‘So, what now?’
‘We’re running a reconstruction on tonight’s news while it’s still fresh in people’s minds.’ Kudos to Holt. He hasn’t wasted any time.
‘Great.’
‘And we want you to go into the studio, make a direct appeal for people to come forward.’
He doesn’t say any more. He doesn’t have to. The mother of a brutally attacked girl appearing live on TV? It’s a ratings winner. We both know it.
‘Of course.’
‘Good. I’ll pick you up at 5 p.m. and take you to the studio and bring you back to the hospital afterwards. Have you got someone who can sit with Megan?’
‘My friend Penny will be here.’
‘Good. We’ll get him, Ally, I promise you.’
This is intended to lift my spirits and I oblige Holt with a smile so he leaves, content he’s doing everything right and it’s only a matter of time before Megan’s attacker is caught, but I’m not so sure.
Something feels wrong, but I can’t quite make it out. If only I’d attended the scene, I would know what it is, I’m sure of it. I would know why Megan’s attacker dropped the weapon but managed to leave no other evidence behind.