‘No.’
‘Did you take Jodie Willis to the farmhouse along the Bunky Line?’
Mathew tapped his hand against his leg. ‘No.’
‘Did you keep her there against her will?’
The tapping grew louder. ‘No.’
‘Do you know who did?’
‘Jim Bentley.’
‘Do you know that for certain, or are you just saying that to get yourself off the hook?’
‘I know he’s capable of hurting someone.’
‘That could apply to most people given the right circumstances.’
Mathew didn’t agree. Most people were decent, hard-working folk who only ever wanted to get on with their lives and be left alone. But he didn’t want to argue with the police and upset them.
‘It only takes one second to lose control,’ Halliwell said. ‘One moment of madness, and that’s it. No going back. Why did you say someone was going to die when you were in Mr Abbasi’s shop?’
‘Because a bird was in the house.’
‘Did this bird talk to you like the orb?’
‘No.’
‘Then how did you know?’
‘Because that’s what a bird in the house means.’
‘Like a superstition?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that you’re telling people someone is going to die right before a child goes missing?’
‘I only said it because it was true.’
‘And then, hey presto!’ She thumped the desk. ‘Jodie Willis is found in your shed four days later. How do you explain that, Mathew? Coincidence?’
‘I want to go home now.’
‘Did you kill Jodie Willis?’
Mathew wiped sweat from forehead with the back of his arm. ‘No.’
‘The truth, Mathew. Just tell us the truth and it will be all over for you.’
‘I didn’t do it.’
‘Where did you keep Jodie before taking her to the shed?’
‘I want to see Gareth.’
‘In the farmhouse?’
‘No.’
‘The Book Café?’
‘No.’
Halliwell stood and announced to the tape that she was leaving the room. It was 8 p.m.
‘I didn’t do anything,’ Mathew said as the door closed behind her. ‘It was Jim Bentley. He killed her and put her in the shed.’
Palmer nodded. ‘The truth will come out in due course, Mathew. It always does.’
‘I don’t want to go to prison.’
Palmer ignored him.
‘Can I phone my mum?’
‘Soon.’ Palmer leaned back in his chair and focussed on the clock.
Without being aware of doing so, Mathew smashed his head against the desk.
By the time the detective leapt into action and restrained him, Mathew Hillock was already back in the cave. Only this time the bats wanted to drink his blood and gorge on his flesh, and no amount of pennies from Heaven could stop them.
Chapter Nineteen
Alison opened the door to DS Palmer and a young female PC who introduced herself as Katie Booth. Alison knew from the look in Palmer’s eyes that it was bad news. Her stomach seemed to fold in on itself as the detective asked to come in. Behind him, a cluster of reporters, salivating and ready to feed off Alison’s grief, shouted questions and bayed for blood.
Alison led the coppers into the front room. Her mother was sitting at the table surrounded by an aura of blue-grey smoke. She was cradling a half-empty glass of red wine. The colour of the alcohol matched her eyes.
‘Sit down, please, Alison,’ Palmer said.
The young PC, a good foot shorter than the detective, seemed as if she was about to burst into tears at any minute.
‘Have you found her?’ Alison asked. ‘Have you found my baby?’
‘Please sit down.’
‘I don’t want to sit down. And before you ask, I don’t want a cup of tea either.’
Palmer nodded. ‘I’m afraid we have found someone who matches Jodie’s description.’
Alison’s body shook as if an earthquake was spreading out from the epicentre of her heart. ‘Is she dead?’
‘I’m afraid so. But we still need the body to be formally identified.’
The words smashed into Alison’s brain. Her heart felt as if a giant hand was squeezing all the love out of it.
‘Where did you find her?’ Christine this time, wine glass clutched dangerously close to breaking point.
‘At a property in Feelham. On the Brooklands Estate.’
Christine put down the glass. ‘Who owns the house?’
‘All I can tell you at the moment is we’ve taken a man to Oxford Police Station for questioning.’
‘How… did… she… die?’ Alison asked.
‘Tests are still being carried out to determine the cause of death.’
Terry ambled into the room, hair splayed out in greasy spikes. ‘What’s this?’
‘They’ve found Jodie,’ Christine said.
Terry rubbed his eyes. ‘Found her? Where?’
‘Some house on the Brooklands Estate.’
‘Is she all right?’
‘A member of the public alerted us to a child’s body,’ Palmer said.
Terry frowned. ‘What do you mean, body?’
‘Is that all she is now?’ Alison said. ‘A body? No name? No identity?’
‘Dead?’ Terry said, the colour draining from his face. ‘Jodie’s dead?’
Palmer nodded. ‘I’m afraid it appears so. I’m really sorry to have to ask this, but we need someone to formally identify the deceased.’
With no reply forthcoming, Palmer said, ‘I know this is an extremely difficult time for everyone, but—’
‘Difficult?’ Alison screeched. ‘You think my daughter being murdered is difficult?’
Palmer shook his head. ‘No. Of course not. Poor choice of words. Please accept my apologies.’
Alison sat at the table. It felt as if the room temperature had plummeted to zero. ‘I’ll do it. I’ll identify her.’
Terry rested a hand on her shoulder. ‘Are you sure, Ali?’
‘She’s my child.’
‘I know, love. But you don’t—’
‘It’s my fault she’s dead.’
Terry squeezed her shoulder. ‘It’s no one’s fault but the bastard who murdered her.’
‘I should’ve gone to the shop myself.’
‘But you weren’t to know what was gonna happen,’ Terry said. ‘How could you?’
‘It was my job to protect her. Look after her. Make sure she doesn’t come to harm.’
‘You can’t start thinking like that,’ Christine said. ‘No one can watch their kids twenty-four-seven. You sent her to get some milk ten minutes up the road in broad daylight.’
Alison shook her head. ‘No, Mum. I sent her out to get snatched by a killer.’
Christine asked Terry to get Alison a stiff drink.
‘I don’t want a drink.’
‘It’ll help take the edge off it,’ Terry said.