Detective Lane walked me out without saying a word. I pointed to where my car was parked and he opened the door, closed it after me and walked away. He knew I didn’t want to speak about it, that I just wanted action, not words.
Now I sit in my car staring at the empty street, wondering if Ian is out there, looking back. I ram my hands against the steering wheel, crying out in pain. Not caring if anyone can hear me, if anyone can see me.
The police station isn’t far from Hush Media’s offices, and all this sadness that I’ve kept suppressed for so long is forcing its way up my throat and burning my mouth. It was a mistake to put my trust in anyone, to think they could ever understand Katy. I should have known that they’d slowly contort the truth until Katy wasn’t the victim. I was a mother who hadn’t educated her about the dangers of the world and she was a reckless young woman. We couldn’t win this.
I pull up on the street, not bothering to lock my car, not caring if I get a ticket. I just march on through the reception doors and up to the desk and the receptionist smiles and he looks like he’s been expecting me. His smile widens as he places a visitors’ logbook in front of me.
‘Ms Harper, so nice to see you again. I just need you to sign in. What time is your appointment?’
‘I don’t have one,’ I stammer.
He takes his hand off the phone and glances away. ‘I don’t think—’
‘I need to see Maggie, is she here?’
He nods sympathetically and picks up the phone. ‘Let me check.’
After a few hushed words, he places the phone down and beams at me. ‘Maggie isn’t in, but Lawrence will see you.’
I scrawl my name in the logbook and snatch the visitor pass from him. ‘I know where to go, thank you,’ I say as he opens his mouth.
As I ride the elevator, I think of all the things I want to say. I recite them over in my head and play it all out: marching into Lawrence’s office, telling him what I think of the show, of the damage he’s done to Katy’s case.
But when the elevator opens, all the words disappear, my mind and body too exhausted to hold on to them. I don’t know when I lost the anger, when I just became so desperately sad, but I long for it back. Anger was my shield, and without it I am vulnerable. I step back into the elevator and stab at the ground floor button, but a hand coils around the door just as it starts to close.
Lawrence stands there in a navy suit and red tie, his bright blonde hair gelled back and a satisfied, if not curious, grin on his face.
‘This is the right floor,’ he states.
He bends to the side to let me pass and I follow him along the corridor to a glass meeting room. He gestures to a chair, but I can’t bear to sit. I need to speak, I need to get it out.
‘This wasn’t what you showed me,’ I say, quietly.
He considers this. ‘It’s the show we planned. I’m sorry we had to make some last minute changes, but that’s just the nature of post-production.’
‘No, this was an assault on Katy’s character, it was nothing but a drama-fuelled soap opera. It was not the truth, it was not right.’
‘Maybe,’ he pauses, ‘your daughter was not who you thought she was, and that upsets you. It’s understandable. You of course want to believe she was innocent, that she played no part in her disappearance, but don’t you think she put herself into a precarious position walking home late at night?’
I shake my head, unable to speak.
‘Anyway, haven’t you just come from the station? We’ve been sending that detective leads all week – we’ve been getting plenty of calls – and I heard that there had been some revelations in the case. It’s all very exciting, Grace, it’s all positive.’
‘You have caused so much harm that can never be undone.’
His neck jerks back as if I’d slapped him, but he quickly recovers, and what he says next pierces my core.
‘It’s just a TV show.’
I stumble back, feeling for the handle of the door, pushing my way along the corridor, faces looking towards me like I’m lost. I hear giggles and whispers as I stab the elevator buttons.
Maybe I am as lost as Katy.
* * *
It takes me ages to get home through thick traffic and happy crowds of students and families all heading out for the afternoon. They’ll have a bag of salty chips or a coffee outside despite the weather, and walk the harbour hand in hand until the sun goes down. What I would give for a day like that, to feel nothing but content.
I pull up at home, wondering whether to tell the forum group about Ian or Peter, but it’ll all explode soon. It’ll be in the papers and on the news, and the police will have to give an update if they’re making an arrest. They know Ian knew about Katy, now all they have to do is place him in the country.
I open the door and the house smells strange, like cigarette smoke and…
Ian.
He’s standing at the end of the hall, his big frame filling the kitchen doorway. He looks relaxed, but not pleased. ‘Hi, Grace.’
I turn to run, my hands scrabbling at the door, desperately trying to pry it open.
‘I’m not going to hurt you.’
I turn, pressing my back against the door, trying with one hand to find my car keys.
‘Leave.’ My voice barely a whisper.
‘I just need to talk to you, Grace, and then I’ll go.’
I don’t reply. I stand with my legs apart, my chest heaving, my body slowly breaking down.
He holds up his hands and takes a few steps back.
‘What do you want?’
‘Well, that’s better, isn’t it?’ He pulls off his tanned leather coat and places it on the back of a kitchen chair. ‘Let’s have a chat, shall we?’
I step forward cautiously, my head spinning, the walls bouncing from side to side. When I get to the kitchen, I grip the doorframe. Ian’s made two cups of tea and placed them on the table. He points to the chair opposite him, which he’s already pulled out.
‘Please, sit,’ he says. ‘This won’t take long.’
I make my way around the table, walking past slowly and carefully, the keys prised between my fingers in case he lunges at me.
‘That isn’t necessary, Grace, I’m really not going to hurt you.’
But I don’t believe him. He doesn’t think he hurt me all those years ago.
‘Why are you here?’ I say, through gritted teeth.
He slurps his tea and smiles, a sinister smile.
‘I just wanted to clear a few things up.’
‘You know about Katy, you know she’s your daughter. You went looking for her, didn’t you?’
He frowns. ‘It wasn’t like that.’
‘They’ve got you. I know you were at The Mirror in London. You lied and they’ll get you for that.’
He laughs. ‘Please, Grace, I’m not going anywhere, but that’s not why I’m here.’ He leans forward, clasping his hands together. ‘I saw you on that show. You look so different, but I feel for you, losing a daughter like that, so I wanted to help.’
‘Help?’
‘The show contacted me, not the other way around. They got wind of our little court toing and froing, and asked for me to be on the show; they thought I had a right. I know you think my reasons were money-motivated, but you have to know me better than that, right? I didn’t need the money.’
‘Why did you do it?’
‘To send a message to you, Grace, that you denied me my daughter for twenty years. I was angry. Then I saw you, how broken you were. It wasn’t right. Plus, it backfired on me anyway, didn’t it?’ He finishes his tea and sets the mug down. ‘It was also to send a message to Katy, that she had a father who would have loved her, if he was allowed to.’
I shake my head. ‘You don’t know the first thing about my daughter.’
‘Maybe not, but I needed her to know I loved her anyway.’ He straightens in the chair, throwing his shoulders back. ‘I’m going away for a bit. I’m in a bit of hot water with my boss, need to lie low.’
‘You’re going to prison,’ I say.
He shakes his head. ‘I’m not, Grace, but I came here to tell you I’m sorry. For what happened between us back then, and for putting you through that show.’ He stands up. ‘It wasn’t tasteful, was it?’
I don’t reply.
‘Well, you won’t see me again, I know you don’t believe me, but I am sorry. I wasn’t involved in Katy disappearing.’
‘Where are you going?’
He shrugs. ‘I think they’ll kill me now they know.’
‘Who?’
‘It doesn’t matter. I did the right thing, that’s what matters.’
‘Get out,’ I whisper.
‘I’m going, I’m going. Take care of yourself, Grace,’ he says, scraping the chair back. He collects his jacket, but I stay firmly rooted to my seat until I hear the door close. I rush to my feet to check he’s really gone, before allowing myself to breathe. I crumple to the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs, sobbing into my knees. I need to tell the police.
I grab my phone, frantically dialling Detective Lane’s number.
‘He was here,’ I say, pacing the kitchen.
‘Who was?’
‘Ian.’
‘Are you okay?’
‘No, yes, I … I have to leave.’
‘What did he say to you?’
‘That he’ll get away with it, that’s he’s going away. He can’t do that, you have to bring him in.’
He sighs. ‘It’s more complicated than that, Grace.’
‘No, it’s simple. He lied and you caught him in his lie and you need to arrest him and charge him and find out what he did to Katy.’
‘Look, Grace, all I can advise is that you go and stay at a friend’s tonight, just so you’re not on your own, so you feel comfortable and safe.’
‘You’re not listening to me. Did you look into The Mirror?’
‘Grace, let me do my job, please.’
‘You know what he did to me,’ I whisper.
‘I know,’ he says back. ‘I’m sorry, I have to go, but please try not to worry.’
He hangs up and I’m left alone.