26
Elise
Niamh grabs my arm. “You can’t do this. You have to stop. He’s going to kill you.”
I stare at her, suddenly realizing I’ve completely misunderstood the way she’s been thinking. As she stands in front of me, she’s distraught, tears streaming down her face. As it sinks in that she believes her father is capable of killing me, I know a new level of despair. No child should have to carry a weight like that.
“Niamh... he won’t, he can’t...”
“He will,” she sobs. “You know what he’s like. He doesn’t care what he does.”
I’ve never seen her so emotional. It’s as though everything she’s bottled up inside for too long is erupting from her. I try to grab her hands. “Niamh. Stop. This isn’t helping.”
“Nor is leaving,” she sobs. “It will make everything worse. You know it will. We have to stay.”
As I stare at my daughter, I know she believes what she’s saying, but I have no idea how to respond. “It may seem like that now, but it won’t always feel like this. The last few days have been horrible—I know that. But once we’re away from here, you’ll feel different. Everything passes, Niamh. Everything.”
As she calms slightly, I take a deep breath. “Whatever your father told you and everyone else, I didn’t kill Dylan.”
I hear her sharp intake of breath as her eyes look up at mine. “I know he took my pills. But I used to keep them hidden in the bedroom. I honestly don’t recall leaving them out.” It’s true. I don’t. But I’m not absolving myself of responsibility. I was too heavily medicated after his death to remember clearly.
A single sob escapes her. “It was an accident,” I tell her gently. “One that should never have happened.”
As tears pour down her face, Niamh stares at me. “You don’t know, do you?”
I frown at her. “What are you talking about?”
“About what he told Dylan. It wasn’t an accident—not the way everyone thinks.” As words tumble out of her, more words than she’s spoken in weeks, my blood runs cold. Because Niamh tells me she heard Andrew talking to Dylan shortly before he killed himself. That he told Dylan he was ashamed of him. That he would never be anyone Andrew could feel proud of. That it would be better for everyone if Dylan was dead.
My hatred of Andrew reaches new levels. I can’t bear to think of what he’s put Niamh through and what she’s kept silently, painfully, to herself since before Dylan died. “You should have told me this a long time ago.” Suddenly I pull off my wedding ring. “The police need to know everything.”
“No.” The fear is back in Niamh’s eyes.
“Niamh. He pushed Dylan over the edge. It’s the same emotional abuse he inflicts on us. It’s why Dylan took an overdose. This is really important.”
“The police can’t know.” Niamh’s eyes are like a rabbit’s caught in the headlights of a car. “Not ever.”
“Why not?” I study her face. “What haven’t you told me?”
“Nothing.” She shakes her head, but the shutters have come down.
Getting up, I put the kettle on. I know she’s lying. Giving Niamh space for a moment, I make two mugs of tea and take them over to her.
“Here.” Passing her one of them, I sit down next to her. “Listen, Niamh. What you’ve just told me strengthens the case against your father. If the police have enough evidence, they’ll be able to charge him.”
But she shakes her head. “I won’t talk to them.”
“I understand,” I say softly. She’s terrified that if the police fail to charge him, Andrew will be even angrier when he comes after us. “But if you agree to let me, I’ll talk to DS May. I’ll tell her some of what you’ve said, but I’ll also tell her how frightened of him you are. You’ve been through so much, Niamh. She’ll understand.” I pause. “It might even mean we can stay here.”
As we sit there a little longer, I pray to God that Andrew doesn’t get out, because Niamh’s right, in a sense. There’s no question it will be worse than the last time he beat me up. But I can’t let fear stop me. We have to do this while the police are still holding him. When eventually she nods, I get my phone.
* * *
DS May arrives an hour later. As she comes into the kitchen, I notice her long hair isn’t as tidy as usual and there are dark circles under her eyes. From what she’s said, I guess this case reminds her of what’s happened in her own life. It’s taking its toll on all of us.
“Can I make you a cup of tea?”
She nods. “I’d love one. How are you both?”
“We’re OK.” I glance at Niamh, then back to DS May. “We’ve packed. But there’s something you should know. It’s a conversation Niamh overheard between Andrew and Dylan, just before he died.”
DS May frowns. “Niamh? Can you tell me what he said?”
“She’d rather I tell you,” I say, then repeat what Niamh told me earlier.
There’s an expression of revulsion on DS May’s face as she makes notes. “Where were you when he said this?” she asks Niamh gently.
“Upstairs.” Niamh’s face is blank.
“I take it he had no idea you overheard.”
Niamh shakes her head, an anxious look on her face.
“You mustn’t worry about him harming either of you. We have evidence from the hospital, statements from both of you—and now, this. Please let me know if you think of anything else—such as the number of workdays you’ve missed, Elise, when he’s assaulted you in the past. I’m guessing he’s kept your medical records clean to cover himself, but the airline you work for will have logged it. Do you have a phone number of anyone I can speak to there?”
Nodding, I get my phone, bringing up the number of my fleet manager. “She’ll have a record of all my sick days.” I pause. “How much longer will you hold Andrew? I think Niamh needs a little more time before we leave.”
“At the moment, tonight.” She hesitates. “You’ll be OK if you want to stay here one more night—but if you do, I’d recommend you move out first thing tomorrow. He’s on record stating he wants a divorce. If I were you, I’d see a lawyer tomorrow and start proceedings.”