The Stepdaughter

When Andrew Buckley tells me Dylan was his son, I’m shocked. “I had no idea.”

“Why would you?” His voice is accusing. “It was two years ago, Detective Sergeant. Since then, it’s been a difficult time for all of us. My daughter has lost her brother and my wife is emotionally fragile. She had a breakdown after he died. She still isn’t back to how she used to be.” His description of Elise bears no resemblance to the woman I’ve talked to. There’s a vulnerability about her, but there’s also grit. The loss of her brother, however, may explain why Niamh finds it so hard to talk about Hollie’s death. He goes on. “We’re trying to get on with our lives. Dredging up the past is incredibly painful.”

I nod. “I can imagine.”

“It probably explains why no one’s mentioned him to you.” His voice is calm again. “James is desperate to pin Hollie’s death on someone. I do understand that. I believe he held Dylan responsible for Hollie’s state of mind. When people are at the end of their tether, they do the most unlikely things.”

As I drive away, I replay what Andrew Buckley told me, thinking about the comment he made. To be honest, I’m quite glad she’s out of Niamh’s life. I’m wondering just how much he wanted Hollie out of the way. Enough to kill her? Or maybe Dylan’s the secret I’ve sensed people in the village holding back from me. But his death was two years ago. It’s highly unlikely that it has anything to do with Hollie’s death.

Andrew Buckley appears to be a respected doctor. His marriage isn’t happy, but that’s not unusual. His daughter is self-contained, but given the obvious problems between her parents and the fact that she’s lost her brother as well as her friend, it isn’t surprising. During my conversation with Andrew Buckley, I saw different sides of him, ranging from professional, astute, opinionated, to cutting and manipulative, interspersed with measured shots of compassion and understanding, designed to leave me believing that whatever he says, he cares. Yet I’m left with the overriding impression that he doesn’t. The only person Andrew Buckley cares about is himself.

At home back in Chichester, I let myself in, closing the door and standing there briefly, letting the day’s tension ebb away, before going into the kitchen and putting the kettle on. The house is still too quiet, even though three months have passed, during which my wounds have started to heal. But thinking about Joe leaving is still like pouring acid on them.

Making a cup of tea, I force myself to get my laptop, then once it’s up and running, type Dylan Buckley 2016 into the search bar. A few rows down, there’s a link to a press release. It’s only three lines, stating that his death was due to an overdose of a prescription drug.

Searching further, I find the date of his funeral, which was at the same church where Hollie’s was held, in the village. It occurs to me his grave must be there, too—I make a mental note to search for it. Then I find an obituary page that’s been closed.

Realizing it’s a long shot, I try Facebook, trawling through lists of people by the name of Dylan Buckley, then have a far better idea. There can’t be many Niamh Buckleys in the world. Typing in her name, I find I’m right. Out of only two, I recognize her face instantly.

When I bring up her page, it’s clear that Niamh keeps most of her posts private, but fortunately for me, not her friends list. I scroll down them, and Hollie’s avatar comes up, then near the bottom, Dylan’s. I click on it. As I start reading, I take a deep breath. If Andrew Buckley knew what was here, I wouldn’t mind betting he’d be furious.

“Sir, I had an interesting conversation with Andrew Buckley yesterday. It turns out that Hollie Hampton had a relationship with his son, Dylan.”

Even the DI looks taken aback. “I didn’t know there was a son. When was this?”

“Two years ago. Apparently he killed himself when Hollie ended things between them.”

The DI looks up. “How come we didn’t know about this?”

“We do, sir. I’ve looked up our records. Dylan Buckley took an overdose. He was found dead at home. But it isn’t the Buckleys we’re investigating right now. According to Dr. Buckley, Hollie messed Dylan up. He told me he was glad Hollie was out of Niamh’s life.”

The DI speaks sharply. “He actually said that? Do you think he meant it?”

“I don’t know.” I’m frowning. “It was a throwaway comment that most people wouldn’t think twice about, but Andrew Buckley isn’t prone to throwaway comments. Pretty much every word that comes out of his mouth is measured. He also made it clear that he doesn’t want me talking to his wife about Dylan. Something about her being fragile, and how they were trying to get on with their lives.”

“It sounds reasonable enough to me.”

I shake my head. “If it was anyone else, you’d think he was protecting his wife. But not him. Both of them have alluded to the fact that their marriage isn’t what it should be. The other thing is, Elise Buckley isn’t fragile. She’s calculating, but not in a self-interested way. I’d say she’s protecting herself and her daughter—from him.”

“Where’s this coming from?” He looks at me curiously.

I take a deep breath. “Let’s just say, when you’ve been there, you know the signs.” I pause. “About Dylan, sir... I’ve asked for his medical records and anything else we can find on him. I found his Facebook page last night. There’s a whole load of stuff on there I’m sure Andrew Buckley doesn’t know about.”

“A whole series of unflattering comments. There are messages from Hollie, too, telling him how much she loved him.” Heartbreaking messages, that completely disprove what Andrew Buckley said about it being Hollie who left Dylan. “Buckley’s obviously lied about what happened between them, but I don’t know why.”

The DI gets up. “By all means look into it, May, but I think we need to stay focused on Hollie. Any luck locating Mason?”

“None. He’s probably lying low until Hollie’s killer is found. He has a big empty house a couple of miles from the village. Surely he has to come back?”

When I return to my office, there’s an email about Dylan’s death certificate and the coroner’s report. The cause of death is cited as an overdose of antidepressants; the death certificate is signed by Andrew Buckley. No inquest was held. I imagine Andrew Buckley doing whatever it took to minimize the attention his son’s death must have drawn to him. While I’m reading, my phone buzzes. It’s Sergeant Collins.

“It’s James Hampton, Nicki. Apparently, he wants to talk.”