I slept on the sofa last night – not on purpose, I just nodded off after watching the second Alien film, Aliens. I needed something to distract me. And then I fell asleep staring at the pool of blue liquid on the rug. Like acid it has damaged what lay beneath it, the rug now in solid clumps.
‘It’s no good,’ I whisper.
‘You can’t fix this,’ Katy replies, slumping down into the chair opposite. She turns to me. ‘What are you going to do about Dad?’
‘Don’t call him that,’ I say, pushing myself off the sofa. ‘You don’t know what he did to me.’
‘Because you never told me.’
‘I couldn’t.’
‘Then you can’t expect me to know.’
‘You’re smart, I thought you’d get a sense he was bad news.’
‘You never gave me anything, Mum, but I guess I didn’t give you much either. We should have been better friends.’
‘What do I do now?’
‘The right thing.’
‘What is that?’ I ask, looking up, but Katy isn’t there.
My phone vibrates underneath a cushion on the sofa, but I stare for a moment at the empty space where Katy sat.
‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, before I reach for my phone.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, Grace, how are you doing?’ Detective Lane says evenly.
‘I’m okay. I was going to call you actually. I just hope I didn’t scare you yesterday, I was tired and stressed and—’
‘It’s okay,’ he says, ‘you don’t have to explain yourself.’
‘Thanks,’ I sigh. ‘Is there any news?’
‘Afraid not. I just wanted to let you know we’re going to have to release Ian on bail, but I wanted to advise you to request a temporary restraining order on him.’
‘I’m not sure that’s necessary. There are police outside—’
‘Not anymore,’ he says. ‘What happened at Peter’s apartment looks like a break-in, they took a few things. We don’t think it’s related.’
‘But you didn’t find the USB.’
‘Yes, but Peter says it was plugged into a laptop that was stolen. It’s just coincidence.’
‘You need to get it back,’ I whisper.
‘We will,’ he reassures me.
‘There’s something I need to tell you, but you can’t ask how I know.’
He’s silent on the other end.
‘Ian was in London the night before Katy went missing, at a nightclub called The Mirror.’
‘Grace, you know I need to ask how you know this.’
‘I can’t say, but he was there, trust me.’
‘I’ll look into it, but in the meantime, Peter has asked to speak to you, if you want to, of course.’
‘Why?’
‘I’d advise against it, but he was very insistent that he speak to you. I think he feels guilty.’
‘He should.’
‘I agree. I already told him I didn’t think it was possible.’
‘No, I’ll speak to him.’
‘You really don’t have to do that—’
‘I want to hear what he has to say for himself.’
‘I really don’t think this is a good idea.’
‘I want to. I can be there in an hour.’
‘Okay,’ Detective Lane says. He sounds tired and frustrated. I know he wishes he could call with better news.
‘Do you want me to bring you some breakfast and a coffee?’
I sense him smile. ‘Yes, please.’
* * *
When I arrive at the station, I’m greeted by a police officer who shows me around the building to a side door.
‘It’s the secret entrance,’ he says, smiling at me as he holds the door open.
I clutch the straps of my backpack as I follow him into the tight corridor. He immediately swings his arm around a banister and hauls himself up the stairs.
‘It’s just on the first floor,’ he says. ‘Detective Inspector Lane is waiting for you.’
I’ve never been to this part of the building before, where they hold criminals. I’ve only ever been to the open-plan office where officers smile and drink coffee together. It’s my idea of what I thought a police station would be like. But, back here, it’s dark and cold, the walls are grey and everything is tiled and bare.
When the officer opens the door, Detective Lane isn’t sat at his desk surrounded by paperwork. He’s frowning, huddled in a group with a man and woman also dressed in suits. He doesn’t smile when he sees me.
I swing the backpack off my shoulders and produce a flask and a sausage roll wrapped in tinfoil. He doesn’t notice when I offer it to him; he just leads me away from the group and down the hall.
‘Are you really sure you want to speak to him?’ he asks.
‘Could it be helpful?’
‘Potentially. We can’t arrest him yet. Technically he hasn’t done anything wrong in Katy’s case, as a crime hasn’t officially been committed, but we can hold him for a bit longer.’ He widens his eyes like he’s trying to force himself to stay awake.
‘Here,’ I say, offering him the sausage roll and flask.
He smiles. ‘Let’s go,’ he says, leading me up the hallway. There’s a blue plastic chair sitting opposite a closed door, which he gestures to. ‘You can leave your things here.’
I place my backpack on the chair and take off my coat, folding it over the back. Detective Lane hands the food I gave him to an officer standing outside the door, giving him a knowing look I can’t decipher. Then he reaches forward and releases the windowless door, and leads me into a dark, grey room. Peter is sat hunched over at a metal table in the middle, picking the skin on the edges of his thumb, and doesn’t look up. His hair is greasy, and his face is swollen and looks sore from the attack.
‘Hi, Peter,’ I say.
His flicks his head up and steadies himself on the chair with both hands, rising slightly, before Detective Lane holds out a firm hand to tell him to stay seated.
‘I’m going to be just outside,’ he says, turning to me. ‘You can leave whenever you want to, and call for me if you need to.’
I nod.
When he leaves, I turn to Peter and slowly make my way across the room. Out of all the things I should be feeling, I can’t help but see a young, frightened boy, and when he finally looks up at me, there is only shame in his tired eyes.
‘Thank you so much for coming,’ he sniffs. ‘I don’t know if they’re going to charge me, but I wanted to speak to you, in case there was no other opportunity to.’
I pull out the chair opposite him and sit down, not sure what I want to say to him, or what I want to hear.
‘I never lied to you about anything, I promise you that. Katy and I were friends, she was working on something, the USB – all of it, it’s the truth.’
I clear my throat. ‘They’re saying it was just a random break-in.’
He rolls his eyes and it’s out of character for him, so it throws me off.
‘Don’t believe that, do you? How can it be?’
‘A horrible coincidence,’ I say.
He shakes his head. ‘Whoever told you that is the one that’s lying. Whoever got that USB is powerful and they’re pulling the strings.’
‘Why did you betray Katy?’ I ask.
‘Betray?’
‘You took money in exchange for information. You took her DNA without consent.’
‘I needed the money.’
‘A lot of people need money, but not a lot of people would do that to their friend.’ I pause. ‘How did Ian find you?’
He stares through me, then looks away. ‘He approached me outside of work one day. He told me he was Katy’s dad and he wanted to take me for a drink, he insisted. I honestly thought at first he was like Graham, he was going to threaten me to stay away from his daughter, accuse me of stalking her. But I slowly realised that he didn’t really know Katy, and that’s when he told me he thought he was Katy’s dad, but he didn’t want to upend her life, unless he knew for certain.’ He clenches both fists and rubs them against his thighs. ‘He offered me money, a lot of money, if I could get her DNA. I know that sounds wrong; I should have told Katy, I should have said no, and left, but I needed that money. I’m sorry.’
‘Did you see him again?’
‘Just to give him her hairbrush. He handed me the money. I never saw him again, I swear.’
‘But why wouldn’t you say anything to the police? You’re the only one who knew about him.’
‘I was afraid of how it would look, of getting into trouble.’
I lean back. ‘He could have had something to do with Katy.’
‘I just… I don’t think he did. If I really thought that, I would have told the police, but I’d given him the hairbrush the day before Katy went missing, I just don’t think he would have or could have acted on approaching her before then. He seemed to care about that, about getting it right.’
‘You don’t know him.’
He shakes his head. ‘I know.’
‘If he did have something to do with Katy, this is on you, and only you.’
He nods, before he starts crying, tears sliding down his reddened cheeks. The bruises around his eyes glisten a deep purple.
‘I think you’re wrong about Katy, about what she was working on. I went to NTV, I spoke to people there. You’re trying to create distractions. You were always trying to lead us away from what you did.’
‘No, that’s wrong, I didn’t—’ He stops. ‘Who did you speak to?’
‘I have to go,’ I say.
‘Did you speak to Annie?’ he says.
I stop, turning to him. ‘You know Annie?’
He nods.
‘You’re so full of shit,’ I say, leaning forward. ‘You don’t have a right to cry for her, you don’t have a right to miss her. You’re small and pathetic and she knew exactly who you were and you got her killed, you fucking—’ I hold my arm up as the door opens quickly and Detective Lane rushes forward.
He takes my wrist gently and leads me away. I start crying and my chest tightens, spots flashing in front of my eyes. I think I’ll faint but I take a gulp of air and lean on Detective Lane. The door closes shut behind us with a loud clang and I jump slightly.
Detective Lane takes me by the shoulders and lowers me into the plastic chair. He offers me a bottle of cold water.
‘He doesn’t get to be sad, he doesn’t get to be angry, only I do,’ I sob.
‘I know,’ Detective Lane says, calmly.
He crouches beside me, eases the water bottle into my hand and encourages me to take a sip. Once I’ve settled my breathing, I look up at him through bleary eyes.
‘He knows what happened to Katy,’ I whisper. ‘I’m sure of it.’