THE SILENT HOUSE
Nell Pattison

Copyright

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

Copyright © Nell Pattison 2020

Cover design by whittakerbookdesign.com © HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

Cover photograph © Jasenka Arbanas/Trevillion Images

Nell Pattison asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008361761

Ebook Edition © March 2020 ISBN: 9780008361778

Version: 2020-01-17

Dedication

For Albert

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

16 hours before the murder

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

15 hours before the murder

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

14 hours before the murder

Chapter 9

14 hours before the murder

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

13 hours before the murder

Chapter 12

12 hours before the murder

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

11 hours before the murder

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

10 hours before the murder

Chapter 18

9 hours before the murder

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

8 hours before the murder

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

7 hours before the murder

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

5 hours before the murder

Chapter 25

4 hours before the murder

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

2 hours before the murder

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

15 years before the murder

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

After the murder

Chapter 33

Acknowledgements

About the Author

About the Publisher

Prologue

There was someone else in the room.

Jaxon rubbed his eyes groggily. Light from the lamppost outside was spilling through the gap in the curtains, and he could see the shape of a grown-up standing by the door. Who was it? He couldn’t tell, his eyes blurred with sleep.

Only half awake, he rolled out of bed and patted his little sister Lexi in the bed next to his. He poked her to see if she was awake, but she didn’t move. His other sister, Kasey, was asleep on the other side of the room, her chest rising and falling.

Go back to sleep, the grown-up signed.

Jaxon looked down at his hands, which glistened with something dark and sticky. He saw the same dark stuff on his sister.

Why won’t Lexi wake up? Jaxon signed, his confusion over Lexi’s lack of response eclipsing his concern about who was in his room.

The grown-up turned to look at the little girl in the bed. They stood over Lexi for a moment, and Jaxon saw their hands moving frantically over her body. They stepped back, one hand raised to their face, then bent over as if they were about to be sick.

Jaxon was too sleepy to resist when the grown-up pulled him out of the room and into the bathroom. They didn’t turn the light on, but used a torch to check none of the red had got on his pyjamas, before carefully washing his hands. The light blinded him, keeping the grown-up in shadow.

Did I do something wrong? he asked.

Back to bed now. Don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret, okay? Their hands shook as they signed to him.

He nodded again, allowed himself to be led back to his bed. Lexi still had stuff all over her, but maybe they would clean her up next. As he drifted off to sleep, wondering who had been in his room, he didn’t notice the adult was still standing by his bed, head bowed and shoulders shaking.

They let out a howl of anguish, but nobody in the house heard.

Chapter 1
Saturday 3rd February

‘I’m the interpreter,’ I said clearly, as I leant over the police tape. My breath fogged in the cold morning air as I spoke. I pulled out my ID badge and waved it at the nearest uniformed officer, a luckless PC who was clearly having a hard time keeping the nosy neighbours back. He only looked about twenty, his eyes bloodshot from tiredness. The card I handed him was my expired ID from the last agency I worked for, the photo an old one. My face had rounded out in the years since it had been taken, but the brown eyes and long dark hair hadn’t changed. I hadn’t got around to having something new made when I went freelance. I’d been putting it off, out of a fear it’d jinx my fledgling business. The main thing was that it still opened the doors I needed it to.

Those three words were usually met with a look of relief on emergency call-outs, and this time was no different. The PC waved me over to the edge of the crowd and lifted the tape for me to slip under. I could feel the eyes of the onlookers on my back, wondering why I’d been allowed passage. I assumed they were neighbours, their attention drawn by the lights of the emergency vehicles; few people would be passing through this area of Scunthorpe on a Saturday morning, and if they saw police here they wouldn’t be inclined to stop.

‘Wait here, please,’ he instructed me, leaving me on the pavement as he approached the house.

There were officers in white paper suits milling around in the doorway. Other uniformed men and women moved amongst the crowd, notebooks in hand. It was seven on a Saturday morning, didn’t these people have better things to do, instead of gawping? A shiver ran through me as a memory surfaced, but I pushed it back down again.

I hovered halfway along the path, unsure if I should go up to the house or stay where I was. The street was typical for that part of Scunthorpe. Rows of identical council houses squashed together, the gardens and exterior walls in varying stages of disrepair. There were neat gardens, clearly loved and tended; there were front yards that were more like the municipal tip in miniature form. How could people cope, living in such disarray?

Past the houses to my left, the road sloped downwards to meet a large patch of waste ground, which stretched away towards the imposing silhouette of the steelworks, jagged against the dark sky. Much of Scunthorpe had been built on the garden city model, but nothing grew amongst the rubble. The street lights enhanced the shadows and for a moment I thought I saw movement. Probably a fox.

In full daylight, the houses on this street looked shabby and rundown, but in the gloom of the winter morning they were bathed in the eerie blue glow of the police car lights. Three cars, lit up but with their sirens off; an ambulance, paramedics moving around inside it but with an air of despondency rather than urgency. It was serious, then.

A phone call first thing in the morning never brings good news. Within an hour of my mobile buzzing me awake, I was pulling up six houses down from the address I’d been directed to. I couldn’t get any closer because of the police cordon holding back the gaggle of inquisitive neighbours, pyjamas and slippers visible under their coats. I glanced at the windows nearest to me and saw signs of more observers – corners of curtains pulled back, silhouettes at dark windows. None of them would have known what was happening. Even I had been given the barest of detail, and I wouldn’t know more until I went inside.

I ran a hand through my bed hair. I had been on call for the emergency services for six months, and in that time I’d learnt that the people who needed me at short notice would prefer me to be quick rather than smart. If I turned up to a regular job in the afternoon looking like that I probably wouldn’t get much repeat business, but when it was an emergency call-out for the police, all bets were off. Still, my professional life was dogged by that little voice in the back of my mind saying that nobody would take me seriously, and my dishevelled state did nothing to quieten it. I grabbed a brush from my bag and tried to sort my hair out while I waited.

The white-suited officers in the entrance to the house had dispersed, leaving a couple with their arms around each other, and I felt a jolt of concern as I recognised them. Alan Hunter, and Elisha … I couldn’t remember her surname. So, if it was their house, what had happened there? As I watched, the pair separated. There was blood on Elisha’s clothes, but she didn’t look hurt and the paramedics weren’t with her. Alan’s eighteen-month-old daughter, Lexi, was my sister’s goddaughter. As I pictured her, a horrible thought struck me. Where were the children?

I’d waited for long enough. I needed to know what had happened in that house, and I looked around for a police officer to ask. At that moment, a dark-haired woman came out of the house and marched straight up to me, her hand outstretched.

‘DI Forest. You’re the British Sign Language interpreter?’ Her suit beneath her white overalls was rumpled, but her eyes were sharp.

I nodded. ‘Paige Northwood.’ At least she gave my job its correct title. Most people called me ‘the signer’, or worse, ‘the signing lady’.

‘Come with me. We need to collect some clothing and the woman isn’t cooperating.’

‘What’s happened here? I need context,’ I told her as she hurried away from me back towards the house.

DI Forest waved a hand dismissively. ‘We don’t have the full information. That’s why you’re here. Right now we need to collect this evidence then get this couple to the station.’

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I followed her. At the door, Forest handed me my own protective paper suit to put over my clothes. After I spent a minute wrestling with it, she ushered me inside. The front door led into the living room, and I could hear voices and footsteps overhead. DI Forest took me straight through a door opposite, into a rear hallway. A door to my right led to the kitchen, and the stairs were to my left. Alan and Elisha were now standing at the foot of the stairs, clinging to each other once again.

The hallway was sparsely decorated – laminate floor, magnolia walls. It reminded me of the house I’d grown up in, another one with the drab decoration of the local housing association. No photographs, no artwork, just a small mirror halfway along the passageway. At the foot of the stairs, by the back door, was a scooter. It looked about the right size for a five- or six-year-old – probably Jaxon’s, Alan’s oldest child. There was a strange smell in the air – a fuggy mixture of cigarette smoke, marijuana and something else, something more organic. At the top of the stairs I could see figures moving around, but the landing was in darkness, hiding their features.

The phone call that morning had been very curt, simply saying that there had been an incident with a deaf family and the police needed a British Sign Language interpreter immediately. They gave me the address, but no information about what had happened or who was involved. I realised I was shaking as the potential seriousness of the situation hit home: from the amount of blood I could see on Elisha’s clothes, someone must have been seriously injured. It was mostly on her sleeves and chest, but I could see smudges on her pyjama bottoms too, probably where she’d wiped her hands.

One of the paper-suited officers was trying to explain something to Elisha, waving a large brown evidence bag in front of her and pointing to her clothes. The woman pleaded with her, but Elisha shrank away; the officer looked at DI Forest and shrugged. I recognised Elisha from the Deaf club, and I spotted a flicker of recognition on her face when she saw me. She was only in her early twenties, as far as I knew, but at that moment she looked much older. There were dark circles under her eyes, which darted back and forth between the two police officers.

‘Please could you explain to Miss Barron that we need to take her clothes for evidence? She is allowed to go and get changed, but we need to take those clothes with us. She and Mr Hunter then need to come with us to the station so we can take their statements and their fingerprints.’

‘Whose blood is it?’ I asked Forest, but she frowned at me and jerked her head in Elisha’s direction, as if to say get on with your job. I gave Elisha what I hoped was a supportive smile, trying to keep the fear from my face, and signed the detective inspector’s request. Alan had his arm around her, protectively, and looked unwilling to let go. Whenever I’d seen Elisha in the past, she’d been well turned out – not overly dressed up, but neat, as if she looked after herself. This Elisha looked like a different woman. Her brown hair was a mess, half of it falling out of her ponytail. She was wearing an old pair of pyjamas with a couple of holes in. She had probably just got out of bed when it happened, but still, I was surprised by her appearance. Whatever had happened must have been traumatic, to have wrought such a change in her.

As I signed, Alan’s knuckles whitened and Elisha grimaced. She shook her head in answer to the request and hugged herself tightly.

‘She’s refusing,’ I told them.

Forest frowned at me again, as if I were the one saying no. ‘That’s not an option. Her clothes are evidence and we need to get them from her, one way or another. I don’t have time for this,’ she added with a hiss.

Elisha was surrounded by hearing people making demands she didn’t understand because they weren’t using her language, not because she wasn’t capable of carrying out their requests. I felt for her, and wasn’t surprised she was shutting down. Looking at the exasperation on the officers’ faces, I decided it would be best to take the firm approach and get this over with quickly.

You need to give those clothes to the police, now. Doesn’t matter that you don’t want to, you have to. Go upstairs, get changed and give those clothes to the police. Now.

I was rewarded with a long stare then finally a shrug. Alan narrowed his eyes at me, but his grip on Elisha’s shoulder loosened and his arm dropped to his side.

‘You come upstairs with me?’ Elisha asked. Her speech was soft, and the detectives looked surprised to hear her reply.

I checked it was okay with the officers, then nodded.

‘Wilson, take her upstairs to get changed, then send the interpreter back down to me,’ Forest snapped as she moved back towards the living room.

When her back was turned, I rolled my eyes, but followed the officer and Elisha upstairs to her bedroom.

There was a flurry of activity on the landing as we climbed the stairs, and a door slammed, so by the time we reached the top there was nobody there. My unease grew.

‘Please could you take your clothes off and put them in this bag,’ the officer asked Elisha, clearly relieved to have me interpreting.

Elisha nodded and pulled a clean t-shirt out of a drawer. I averted my eyes while she changed, but the officer continued to watch her.

‘I need to know – what happened here?’ I muttered to the officer as Elisha changed, but she shook her head.

‘DI Forest will fill you in on anything you need to know. I can’t discuss it.’

I decided not to push it. The officer took photographs of Elisha’s clothing before bagging each item separately. Once I had heard the two paper bags rustle, I turned around, swallowing hard when I realised that Elisha still had a smear of blood across her forehead, going up into her hairline.

‘Thank you,’ the officer said, and nodded to me. ‘DI Forest would like you to return to the living room. Elisha, you can go back and join Alan.’

‘Sure,’ I replied, quickly translating this for Elisha.

We stepped out onto the landing and were descending the stairs when I heard a door open behind me. I leapt in fright as Elisha let out an unearthly wail, and I realised she was saying a name.

‘Lexi! Lexi!’

I turned around on the stairs, expecting to see the little girl. Instead, I saw the open door to the other bedroom and, beyond the officer in the doorway, a toddler bed. My legs went from under me and I fell onto the step. Lexi was lying on the bloodstained mattress, her lifeless eyes open and staring.

I gasped and covered my mouth to stop myself retching, and the officer in the doorway turned, noticing us.

‘Shit, get that door shut,’ I heard someone say, then our view was obscured once more.

The officer who took us upstairs muttered something under her breath, then guided Elisha towards the stairs, but I was in the way. I wasn’t sure if my legs could hold me, so I swivelled around on the step and squashed myself against the wall so they could get past.

I clasped my shaking hands around my knees and swallowed several times to get rid of the bile in my throat. Lexi was dead. Lexi had been killed. How was I going to tell Anna? My sister doted on her little goddaughter.

Elisha ran down the stairs and flung herself at Alan, sobbing as she pressed her face into his chest and clung to him. Alan just stood there, his face blank, not even putting his arms around her. He looked up the stairs and our eyes met, but I looked away quickly. I felt another stab of fear when I thought about his other two children – where were Jaxon and Kasey? Were they dead too?

I needed fresh air, so I forced myself to move. As I stood, someone came out of the smaller bedroom and walked past me on the stairs. It was a different female police officer also dressed in a white paper body suit. She had a large evidence bag in her hand, and she shielded it with her body as she squeezed past me. When she turned, I got a clear view of the bag and its contents: a teddy bear. I remembered taking Anna shopping to buy it when Lexi was born. Its fur was so soft.

I followed her down the stairs, and as she moved into the light in the hallway I saw a dark stain on the bear’s foot. Blood. There was blood on Lexi’s teddy and they were taking it away for evidence. The room lurched and I stumbled towards the open back door in my haste to get outside, where the rush of cold air precipitated a violent reaction and I vomited onto the cracked patio. Shaking, I sank down onto the doorstep, spitting out the last of the bile in my mouth. What the hell happened in that house?

The officer I knew only as Wilson appeared next to me and handed me a bottle of water. I gave her a grateful smile and rinsed my mouth out, then took a big gulp.

‘Sorry, you shouldn’t have seen that.’

I made a strangled noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sob. ‘This isn’t the sort of job I normally do.’

‘Are you okay? Do you know the family?’

I glanced up and saw a wary look in her eyes. I knew there was a potential conflict of interest, but I nodded anyway. ‘I know them vaguely from the Deaf club. I know Alan’s ex, Laura. Lexi and Jaxon’s mum.’

Laura was good friends with my sister, Anna, and I’d known her since I was eighteen. I’d occasionally spent time with Lexi in the last eighteen months, and another wave of horror hit me as I thought about her.

I swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘My job can involve working with people I know, in sensitive situations. The Deaf community is small, and you won’t find a local interpreter who doesn’t know them. I just hadn’t expected to arrive here to find out a child is dead.’ I swallowed the bile that yet again rushed to the back of my throat, and continued: ‘When I’m on call it’s usually hospital work, telling doctors what happened and where it hurts. Nothing like this.’ I did my best to keep my voice steady, professional, but it cracked a little at the end. I held back the information that Lexi was my sister’s goddaughter. Even in my shocked state, I knew I wanted this job; I had to know what had happened. I didn’t want the officer knowing the full truth of how close I was to this, in case she told the detectives and they called a different interpreter.

Wilson flashed me a brief smile. ‘I understand. Are you okay to continue?’

I nodded. There was no way I’d let them replace me. I needed to be there.

She led me back into the house and through to the living room. As we entered, DI Forest frowned, but the man with her smiled warmly and introduced himself as DC Singh. Alan and Elisha had disappeared, either into the kitchen or outside with another officer, I assumed.

‘We need to get back to the station and take statements,’ Forest said.

‘I’m ready,’ I said.

‘Normally we would have asked you to meet us there, but the communication barrier has slowed things down. Now you’re here, hopefully we can get on with things.’

Forest turned on her heel and walked out of the front door, leaving Singh looking a little awkward. He gestured for me to follow, then directed me to where Alan and Elisha were waiting.

I explained the situation to them, and once I was sure they were going to cooperate, I ducked under the police tape and walked back to my car. There were still some onlookers milling around, and I could feel their eyes on my back as I walked away. As I unlocked my car door, I realised my hands were shaking, and I rested my head on the steering wheel before I set off for the police station, taking deep breaths. What the hell could have happened to that poor little girl? And how was I going to tell my sister?

Chapter 2

On arriving at the police station, Alan and Elisha had their fingerprints taken. I interpreted the detectives’ explanation that it was for elimination purposes, but Alan continued to look wary. The officer taking their prints looked them up and down then spoke slowly, with an unnatural sing-song tone to her voice. When Elisha looked to me for clarification of what she’d said, the officer sighed and went through her exaggerated instructions again while I cringed behind her. Only when Elisha snapped, ‘I’m deaf, not stupid,’ did the officer shut up and let me take over.

It took an hour to get everything sorted, and before they were ready to take statements I found myself sitting in a waiting room, reading the same five posters repeatedly. I considered sending Anna a message, to break the news to her, but I decided against it. Hopefully she wouldn’t find out before I was finished at the police station, then I could call her and tell her face to face. I pressed my lips together to stop my jaw trembling as I imagined my sister’s pain at the death of her goddaughter.

Singh brought me a cup of coffee, which I drank gratefully despite its murky grey colour. I’d been to bed late the previous night, anticipating a weekend lie in, and I was finding it hard to stay awake.

‘Before we begin, I’ll give you the basic background.’ Singh sat down opposite me and rubbed the bridge of his nose before continuing. ‘I’m sure you realise this is a very serious situation. We were contacted via the emergency text service just after six this morning, saying a child was dead. CID were called in due to the suspicious circumstances, and myself and DI Forest are part of the incident team who’ll be dealing with the case from now on.

‘There are two adults who were present at the time the child’s body was discovered: Alan Hunter and Elisha Barron, both of whom are deaf. There are also two other children, who haven’t been harmed.’

I let out a breath I hadn’t realised I’d been holding. At least Jaxon and Kasey were okay.

‘The dead child’s name is Lexi Hunter. She was staying with her father for the weekend, although normally lives with her mother. Her brother, Jaxon, and half-sister, Kasey, were asleep in the same room when it happened.’

The implications of what the children might have witnessed stunned me for a moment, but before Singh continued I held up a hand to interrupt him.

‘Where are they? Jaxon and Kasey?’

‘We contacted the duty social worker, and they’re being cared for. Jaxon should be back with his mother shortly, although we’ll need to arrange to interview him in a couple of days.’

Drawing in a sharp breath, I wondered how Singh could deal with things like this every day. The prospect of interviewing a six-year-old about the death of his sister sounded awful. I knew I should tell him that I already knew the family, but I didn’t want him thinking I shouldn’t be working on the case, and I let the moment pass.

‘We need to establish what happened and what Alan and Elisha can tell us, but we need to take their statements individually,’ Singh continued. ‘They’ve been reluctant to be separated until you were here. We’ll need to speak with Lexi’s mother once we’re finished here, as well.’

‘Does she know? Laura, has someone told her?’

‘Yes,’ he replied, his deep voice reassuring me. He either didn’t notice my slip, showing I knew Lexi’s mum’s name, or he let it go. ‘We sent officers over as soon as we were given her address. Her mother is also with her.’

I knew Laura was living with her mum, so at least she had her there for support. From what I’d heard, Bridget Weston was a strong woman, so hopefully something like this wouldn’t break her completely, devastating as it would be for the whole family. I worried how Laura would ever cope with a tragedy of such magnitude.

DI Forest approached as Singh finished filling me in. ‘Is there anything else you need to know before we begin?’

I swallowed, not wanting to ask but needing as much information as they could give me. ‘How did Lexi die?’

Forest grimaced, her mouth pulled tight in a straight line. ‘There will have to be a post-mortem. Until we have the results, I’m afraid we can’t discuss it with you.’

I bit back a response. There must have been more she could tell me, but I couldn’t bring myself to push for it yet. As the interviews progressed, there’d be things I didn’t want to hear, but it was my job. I’d been present during some of the most private moments of people’s lives: I’d been there when a doctor told someone they had cancer; I’d had to inform a client that his wife was filing for divorce; I’d worked with social services, in homes and in court, when children were being placed under child protection orders or were being removed from their families. I had learned to deal with not being able to talk to anyone else about my work, about the things I heard and experienced, but in nine years I hadn’t learned to separate myself emotionally from my clients and their experiences. When I understood my clients’ emotions, it helped me to interpret them more accurately, reading their facial expressions and body language to help me modulate the tone and inflexion of my spoken English translation. This empathy never made my job any easier, though.

Forest led me through to an interview room where Elisha was sitting at a table, hands clasped around a cup of tea. I smiled in an attempt to reassure her, then sat down opposite her so she could see me clearly.

‘Elisha, we need to take your statement about what happened to Lexi. Do you want the BSL interpreter here?’ Forest asked as soon as we were all settled.

I was surprised at the question, but then I remembered the confusion when Elisha spoke at the house. Many deaf people speak as well as use sign language, often combining the two, and others don’t sign at all. I treated every client differently, depending on how they chose to communicate.

‘Yes, please. I don’t always understand people speaking.’

You want to speak, or you sign and I speak for you? I signed to Elisha.

She wrinkled her nose as if she were thinking, then signed, You speak.

I relayed this to the detectives, and Forest nodded at Singh to continue.

‘Okay, Elisha. Paige will interpret for you, and we’re videoing this interview,’ Singh began, indicating the camera. ‘Do you think you can tell us what happened?’

Elisha’s eyes darted around the room for a moment, then finally she looked at me so I could interpret Singh’s question.

I told you in the emergency text, she signed with a frown. I found Lexi in her room. I don’t know what happened.

‘I understand that, but we need a lot more information about what happened, now that we have an interpreter.’

I explained this to Elisha, adding in that the police needed to do it properly. Still, she looked distressed. I don’t want to talk about it.

I interpreted this and DI Forest sighed briefly before she replied. Didn’t she know that Elisha could read her frustration in her body language?

‘We need to hear it from you, exactly as you remember it. It’s important we find out what happened to Lexi.’

Elisha closed her eyes for a moment, then started to explain.

I woke up early and went to check on the children. There was blood on Lexi’s head, and on her bed. It was all over her. I checked, and she wasn’t breathing. Elisha looked at the floor, and I wondered why she was so defensive, what she was scared of.

‘Why don’t we start from last night,’ DC Singh suggested, his calm tone contrasting starkly with Forest’s. ‘What time did Lexi go to bed? Start from there.’

Elisha pinched the bridge of her nose, then covered her face with her hands for a moment before she responded. She was terrified.

The children went to bed at nine. They all sleep in the same room when Jaxon and Lexi are staying. We’ve only got two bedrooms. She glared at Forest as she signed, as if the detective inspector was somehow responsible for their lack of living space.

‘How often do Jaxon and Lexi stay?’

Most weekends.

Singh made notes as I translated. ‘And when did you next go into the room?’

I checked on them every half hour, maybe every hour. Jaxon takes a long time to go to sleep, so I had to check he wasn’t disturbing the girls.

‘What time did he go to sleep?’

Elisha shrugged, then looked down at the floor again. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. It had been mild for February, but there was a chill in the room that morning.

She gave me an imploring look. I don’t think I can do this.

I interpreted this and Forest pursed her lips. ‘Give us as much information as you can, but we may still need to ask you some more questions when you’ve finished, if there’s something else we need to know.’

For a moment I thought Elisha would refuse; she looked to the door, as if she were contemplating leaving, but eventually she nodded.

Alan went out to the pub, so I put the children to bed at nine, then went back downstairs. I kept checking on them every half hour until they were all asleep. One time I went in and Jaxon was under his bed, but he went to sleep around eleven, I think. I checked on all three of them, and Lexi was fine. I saw her mouth move as she sucked her dummy. She paused. I went to bed then. I woke up around two, but I didn’t go back into the children’s room until this morning.

‘What time did Alan come home?’ DI Forest asked.

Around two. That’s why I woke up.

‘Would you normally check on the children in the night, if you woke up?’

Maybe.

‘Did Alan check on the children when he came upstairs?’

Elisha’s eyes darted to the side and she fidgeted for a moment before she replied. Alan didn’t come upstairs. We had a fight because … because he was really drunk. I made him sleep on the sofa.

The two detectives exchanged looks and DC Singh made a note of this before gesturing for Elisha to continue.

She picked at her fingernails for a moment. As soon as I got up this morning, something didn’t feel right. I went to check on the children again, and Lexi was lying on her front, with her head on one side. Her hair was in her face, but I brushed it out of the way. Her eyes were open and my hand felt sticky. I could see blood on her clothes, on her bed. The back of her head was all covered in blood. Tears slid down Elisha’s face as she looked at her hands, which were shaking.

I shuddered at the memory of Lexi’s body, some of the blood clearly visible from where I had been standing. I wished I could blank it out, forget what I saw, but I knew I never would. DI Forest shifted in her chair, and asked Elisha to continue.

I knew she was dead. I reached down to touch her, to make sure. That’s how I got her blood all over me. Elisha sniffed and swallowed, more tears threatening to spill over. From the shape of the bloodstains on her clothes, I thought she had probably picked Lexi up and held her close.

Her face looked … strange, she continued. I don’t know if something happened to it, or if it was just because she was dead, but her face was the wrong shape. She shrugged, unsure of how to express herself further. She swallowed again.

Someone did this while I was asleep. How could someone come into my house and do this? Why couldn’t I have woken up? Elisha’s words made me shiver at the thought of someone walking around the house, knowing they couldn’t be heard. I thought she was going to carry on, but she wrapped her arms around herself again and shook her head to indicate she didn’t want to say any more.

‘What about Jaxon and Kasey? Did you check on them?’

It took a moment for me to get Elisha’s attention, but in the end she took a shuddering breath and looked at me.

Of course I checked on them. They were both asleep. Kasey didn’t wake up, but she was breathing deeply. Jaxon woke up when I touched him. He looked confused, not scared, so I don’t think he saw what happened. He didn’t understand what I was doing.

‘Is that when you contacted the ambulance?’

Elisha nodded. I’ve got the emergency SMS on my phone, see? She dug her phone out of her pocket to show the detectives.

Singh made a note of something, then leant forward. I definitely got a good cop, bad cop vibe from those two.

‘Did you tell Alan what had happened?’

When I interpreted this question, Elisha pressed her lips together so tightly half her face went white. She nodded, then her eyes flicked towards the door again.

‘Was he awake?’

She shook her head, but offered no more information. Singh wrote something down, but didn’t push the point.

‘We want to ask you a couple of questions about Lexi now. Would that be okay?’

Wiping her eyes with the torn cuff of her jumper, she agreed.

‘Did you look after her a lot, when she and Jaxon stayed over?’

Quite a bit. Alan’s very busy, and I have Kasey, so I usually have the three children together.

‘Have you noticed anyone behaving strangely around Lexi recently?’

Elisha frowned and shook her head. I don’t know what you mean.

‘Has there been anyone acting suspiciously, doing anything that worried you, around the children?’

No, nobody. Well … She paused mid-sign, and I thought she was going to carry on, but she just shook her head.

Singh looked at me, but Elisha stayed still and didn’t sign anything else.

DI Forest cleared her throat. ‘We need to wait until the results of the post-mortem confirm cause of death. That’s why we need as much information as possible right now.’

Why would someone kill Lexi? As I interpreted this, I realised Elisha was asking me, her desperate face appealing to me for an answer to make sense of what happened. The facade she had been putting on slipped, then crumbled. She reached a hand up to her head and dug her fingers into her scalp, rocking as she sobbed. I laid a hand on her arm, but I knew I couldn’t offer much comfort.

When her sobs subsided, she looked back at me again. She was a beautiful little girl, always happy. The tears still rolled down her cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands.

I could feel my own emotions churning. I hadn’t had time to process the thought that I was working with the police as part of a murder investigation. I agreed with Elisha – surely nobody would have any reason to harm a young child?

Singh flipped back a couple of pages in his notes. ‘You said that Alan slept on the sofa because you had a fight. Did he stay there all night, or did he come upstairs at all?’

Elisha glanced at the door yet again and chewed her lip for a moment. He stayed downstairs. I don’t like it when he gets really drunk, so he slept on the sofa. She didn’t make eye contact with me when she signed this, and I got the feeling she wasn’t telling the truth, but I could hardly say that to the detectives. I didn’t think she could take much more of this questioning. She was perched on the edge of her chair, poised for flight.

She started to sign something to me, but I was distracted by a knock on the door. A uniformed officer opened it and beckoned Singh over with an apologetic grimace. The two men bent their heads together and muttered to each other for a moment before Singh nodded and followed him out of the door.

I could see past him to where another detective was arguing with Alan Hunter, who was clearly confused and upset, waving his arms around and gesticulating in frustration. As Singh stepped out to try to sort out the situation, Alan made eye contact with me, and he looked frantic. As the door shut behind them, Elisha began to cry again.

Chapter 3

I’m Deaf, but I’m not deaf. Growing up, I was the only hearing person in my family, which makes me Deaf with a capital D. I was always part of the Deaf community, and BSL was my first language. Being Deaf is a cultural identity, not simply a term for hearing loss. You can have full hearing and still be considered part of the Deaf community. I can’t put my finger on when I started to slip into the role of family interpreter. It was the easiest way to get anything done; I translated the world for my parents and my sister, before email and texting made communication more accessible. I never intended for it to be my job, though. It was something I fell into for convenience, then never found my way back out of. Most of the time, I didn’t mind it, but certain jobs made me rethink my options.

The fear in Alan’s eyes as Singh had left the room set my adrenaline pumping, and when I looked down, I could see my hands trembling. Forest, Elisha and I waited in the interview room, the tension palpable. Elisha rocked on her chair, pulling her hair out of its ponytail so it fell over her face. Using her hearing aids, I wondered how much she could hear of the commotion outside the door.

After a few minutes, Singh stuck his head around the door. ‘Miss Northwood, can we have your assistance, please?’

I explained to Elisha where I was going, then slipped out, heart hammering with trepidation. Calming down traumatised clients wasn’t part of my remit. In the corridor, Alan sat on the floor, with his back to a wall and his knees raised. He squared his jaw and glared at Singh and the other detective who were standing over him, his eyes rimmed with red, but he didn’t move.

‘Mr Hunter has calmed down sufficiently, I think. Please could you explain to him that we’ll take his statement as soon as we’ve finished with Miss Barron, then we will take both of them to stay somewhere else.’

I did as Singh asked, and Alan grunted in response. I don’t care about the statement. I want my children back. Social services can’t take my children. Jaxon and Kasey are staying with me.

Singh nodded when I had translated. ‘Of course, I understand your concerns, but we have to check them over to make sure they’re okay. They could have witnessed a very traumatic event. It’s normal for us to contact social services when something like this happens.’

Why? Alan was tense, but I could see the pain on his face, and I understood. Someone had taken one of his children from him, and he desperately wanted to see the other two, to reassure himself.

‘Mr Hunter, someone murdered one of your children only a few hours ago. It is in Jaxon and Kasey’s best interests that we make sure they haven’t been harmed.’

I was surprised by the tone in Singh’s voice, but his stern facial expression did the trick, and Alan’s head drooped. He screwed his face up; I thought he was trying not to cry.

‘Now, we need to finish taking Miss Barron’s statement, then we’ll speak to you. DC Benson will take you back to wait in an interview room.’

I translated, and Alan nodded, so Singh and I went back into the room where Elisha and Forest waited. Elisha jumped backwards in her chair when the door opened, and looked relieved when she saw us. I wondered who she’d been expecting.

We went over Elisha’s statement, and she agreed to everything. For a moment, I thought she wanted to add something, but she dropped her eyes from mine and we left the room.

The two detectives compared notes, and I was shown to a waiting area. A couple of minutes later, Elisha was also escorted in, but I didn’t make eye contact with her, bending down to pull a bottle of water out of my bag. It could feel strange, ignoring a client in the middle of a job, but there was nowhere private to have a break and I desperately needed one. If it hadn’t been such a horrific situation, I might have looked for another coffee, but it didn’t feel appropriate to go wandering around the station, somehow. Water would do.

I could hear the detectives muttering in the hallway, but they didn’t look my way. Checking my phone, I wondered again if I should call Anna. She was a night owl like me, but it was gone ten so she’d probably be awake. I told myself I was putting it off for her sake, when really a part of me hoped she would find out from another source so I didn’t have to be the bearer of such terrible news.

After waiting for about ten minutes, I got up to stretch my legs. The police station chairs weren’t chosen for comfort, and I needed to get some blood flowing if I wanted to stay awake. Forest and Singh had disappeared, and I stood in the doorway and glanced down the corridor. A couple of uniformed officers were walking past, and as they did I caught a snippet of their conversation.

‘… sick, bashing a little girl’s head in like that.’

‘People like that shouldn’t have kids if they can’t protect them. Imagine not knowing someone was in your house, in your kid’s bedroom.’

The world started to spin, and I needed to grab on to the door frame for support. The PCs suddenly noticed I was there, and one stepped forward to check I was okay. I shook him off and stormed up the corridor looking for Singh and Forest. Trying several doors, I found them in an office, leaning over a desk. I was so desperate to know exactly what had happened, I didn’t care if I was interrupting them.

‘Is there a problem?’ Forest asked, looking at Singh even though I knew she was talking to me.

‘What happened in that house? What happened to Lexi? Who could have done this?’ I blurted it out before thinking.

Forest’s face darkened and the atmosphere became noticeably colder. ‘We can’t discuss the particulars of the case with you.’ The set of her jaw told me she expected that to be the end of the discussion, but I couldn’t just leave it there.

Breathing deeply to try and stop myself from shaking, I stepped closer to her.

‘I have been thrown into this situation with no information, no warning about what I was going to hear. Thanks to your officers I’ve seen the body of a dead child, something that I will never forget. I need to know what happened!’ I knew my voice was becoming shrill, but I didn’t care any more. I trembled as the image of Lexi’s battered body rose unbidden in my mind, and I took some deep breaths.

‘Miss Northwood, we have already said—’ Singh began, but I cut him off.

‘Tell me, please!’ My voice broke and I let out a strangled sob before covering my mouth with my hand.

The detectives stared at me in silence for a second before Forest took a step towards me. She was invading my personal space, but I didn’t move; I wouldn’t let her intimidate me. I focused on my breathing and tried to swallow down the lump in my throat.

‘Miss Northwood, if you continue to overstep the boundaries, we will be forced to employ someone else. Do I make myself clear?’

The iciness of her tone brought me to my senses. Of course they couldn’t tell me what happened, however much I wanted to know. Mumbling an apology, I backed down, taking a step sideways and leaning on the door. I wiped my face surreptitiously, embarrassed at losing control. Forest looked as if she was about to say something else, but Singh headed her off. He indicated for me to follow him out of the room, and the three of us walked to the interview room in silence. I found myself hoping the next interview would be quick and straightforward; the emotional strain was taking its toll on me.

Alan Hunter was a big man, and when I saw him folded into one of the chairs in the interview room, I was worried it might break. He was tall as well as stocky, with close-cut hair that was prematurely greying. I knew he was older than Elisha, but I was pretty sure he was only in his early thirties. He looked wired, his eyes bright and alert, which surprised me, considering what had happened and the fact that he’d allegedly been up late drinking then had slept on the sofa.

‘Mr Hunter, I understand this is a very upsetting and distressing experience for you, but it is important that we take your statement about what happened last night. Any information you can give us will help us to find out what happened to Lexi.’

I don’t know what happened. Maybe it was an accident.

I translated this for the detectives while Alan sat bolt upright in his chair, flexing his fingers.

‘We won’t know anything for certain about how she died until the post-mortem is complete,’ Forest said. There were dark circles beneath her eyes, and I wondered what time she’d been called out.

Alan scowled but didn’t respond, so Forest continued.

‘Where were you when Elisha discovered Lexi had died?’

He shrugged, but didn’t offer anything further.

‘You weren’t in bed,’ Singh said, trying to draw a response.

His upper lip twitching, Alan tapped his finger to his nose.

‘None of your business,’ I translated.

‘Mr Hunter, we are trying our best to help you. We want this over with as much as you do. If you don’t talk to us, it prevents us from finding out what happened.’

At this, Alan spread his hands before replying. I went out to the pub. I’d had a bit to drink, so I decided to sleep on the sofa. Elisha gets grumpy with me if I wake her up. Happy? I tried to convey the angry sarcasm of Alan’s body language in my tone of voice.

Singh made a note of his response. Forest looked like she’d just bitten a lemon, and I noticed her eyes narrow as she formed her next question.

‘Elisha told us that the two of you had an argument when you came home, and she refused to let you upstairs. So, which is it?’

Fine. She said I was too drunk. She was pissed off, so I slept on the sofa.

‘Did you go upstairs after she was asleep?’

No! Alan jerked forward on the chair as his anger and frustration poured out. I know what you’re trying to say, but I would never hurt my kids. His hands moved so fast I could barely keep up, his signing unclear because of the sheer emotion behind his words.

It’s her fault! It’s Elisha’s fault that Lexi is dead. She should have looked after her better. She should have checked on her. She was supposed to check on the children, to make sure they were okay, but she didn’t. And now Lexi is dead! And someone has taken my other children away.

Alan’s face contorted with rage, but tears flowed down his cheeks. Singh and Forest looked comical, with matching raised eyebrows, taken aback by the sudden outburst. Singh leant over to whisper something in Forest’s ear, and Alan glanced at me for a translation.

I shrugged. Can’t hear, I signed to him.

‘Why didn’t you check on the children yourself?’ Singh asked.

When I interpreted this for Alan, he made another jerky movement and I instinctively sat back.

I was drunk and she made me angry. I passed out on the sofa before I even thought about going to check on the kids, he replied eventually. His face fell as he realised he couldn’t put the blame on Elisha without assuming equal responsibility.

He looked up, as if something had just occurred to him. Someone must have come into the house and killed her. A stranger. Why didn’t I wake up? How did they get into my house? I was finding it increasingly difficult to follow his signing – I was tired and he was erratic, the worst possible combination.

‘That is a question we wanted to ask you. First it was Elisha’s fault, now it’s a stranger who just wandered off the street into your house, upstairs and into your children’s bedroom? How do you think this stranger got in? None of the doors appeared to have been forced.’ Forest couldn’t hide the scepticism she felt, and Alan could read it on her face as clearly as I could.

I don’t know! I don’t know what happened. My little girl is dead. There was a long pause before Alan shook his head. Don’t you understand how hard this is for me? Someone was in my house, and I didn’t protect my children. I should have protected my little girl.

I was still translating his signs when he got up and stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard I felt the wall behind me shake.

Singh turned to Forest. ‘Do you want me to go after him?’

Forest stared blankly at the door for a moment, then shook her head. ‘We’ll bring him back in once we’ve got the results of the post-mortem. We can’t do any more until we’ve got some evidence.’

Singh nodded his agreement.

‘With his record, we might be safer bringing him in anyway. They’d better find the murder weapon soon,’ Forest muttered, glancing over the paperwork in front of her. She looked up and appeared startled when she realised I was still in the room. That wasn’t unusual – people get into the swing of a conversation and forget the interpreter is there.

‘Thank you, Miss Northwood, you can go. We need to speak to Laura Weston later today, though, if you’re available?’

I was surprised she’d want to employ me again, after my earlier outburst, but I flashed her a professional smile and handed over my card with my mobile number on it. ‘Of course. Just let me know what time.’

She nodded and I got up to leave. Singh shook my hand and ushered me to the front door.

‘We understand this is a difficult situation, such a tragedy in a close-knit community. A word of warning, though. DI Forest won’t put up with you speaking to her like that again,’ he told me once we were outside. The meaning was clear in his voice: I could keep the job as long as I remembered why I was there. I nodded and thanked him, and he flashed me a smile before heading back into the station.

Standing at the edge of the car park for a moment, I rubbed my eyes and tried to wake myself up enough to drive home. I thought about Jaxon and Kasey, how they were coping with this, and if social services had managed to find a support worker who could sign. Maybe Jaxon had been taken back to Laura’s. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like for them, too young to understand what had happened to their sister.

I left the shadow of the police station behind me and walked across to my car. It was bright yellow, the only splash of colour on the grey street. Before getting in, I paused, hand on the door, and looked back. My heart picked up its pace as I realised I was being watched from the entrance to the station. I couldn’t tell who the silhouette belonged to. For a moment I stood there, hoping it was someone who happened to be leaving behind me, but the figure remained motionless, facing in my direction.

After a moment, the figure pushed open the door, and I realised it was Alan Hunter. He lit a cigarette, not taking his eyes off me. It was probably coincidence that he’d followed me outside, but I shivered nonetheless. Without waiting to see if he was watching me leave, I climbed into the car and got out of there as quickly as I could.

Chapter 4

I got home just before twelve. Luckily, it was a quiet weekend for me, and I had no jobs booked in for the day, although I knew the police would call me when they wanted to interview Laura. I was so desperate to get out of the station, I’d left before they could be specific about when. Kicking off my shoes, I flopped down onto the sofa, my mind whirring. What the hell had happened in that house? I hadn’t processed the true horror of the situation, but as I sat there it started to sink in. Alan and Elisha had been the only adults in the house. Could one of them have killed Lexi? I felt sick at the thought.

I sat there for nearly an hour, trying to come to terms with what happened to the little girl my sister loved so much. A sudden noise startled me: my work phone was beeping, and I wished I’d put it on silent. I ignored it, needing coffee first.

I padded through to the kitchen, grabbed a mug and loaded a pod into the coffee machine. As it whirred away I rubbed my eyes; I knew my involvement with this horrific situation was far from over. At least the money was good. A call-out on a Saturday was one and a half times my normal hourly rate, and every bit I could put towards my credit-card bills was welcome.

If I had to do more of those interviews, I knew I’d be forced to listen to the details about how a little girl died. I wouldn’t ever be able to forget the sight of Lexi’s body. Bile rose in the back of my throat and I took a gulp of coffee to force it back down. If anything, the scalding liquid made it worse. Think of something else, I repeated in my head. Think of something positive.

Wool and scraps of fabric were scattered over my kitchen table, with most of the space taken up with a half-finished wet felting piece. I didn’t finish my textile design degree, and after several years in a controlling relationship, I’d lost touch with the things I loved to do. Recently, I’d been trying to get back into it, to work on my skills again, but it could take me months to finish something. I turned my back on it and went through to the living room.

I’d just settled myself on the sofa with my coffee when my phone rang again. My heart sank until my brain caught up: the ringtone was different, which meant it was my personal mobile. I dug it out of my bag and saw Anna’s avatar smiling at me. She and my deaf friends used video calls to chat, but sometimes I wished they didn’t have to see my face.

Anna was studying for her PhD at University College London, at the centre for Deafness, Cognition and Learning, and she taught several classes a week. Putting on my best fake smile, I answered, but as soon as Anna’s face popped up I knew she’d heard. Her blonde hair was lank and straggly as if she’d been running her hands through it, and her face was tear-stained.

Paige, I have awful news. Lexi’s dead. Murdered. Someone killed Lexi! Anna burst into tears again as she signed.

I didn’t know what to say. If I admitted that I knew, technically I’d be breaking confidentiality, and I couldn’t let that get back to the police. On the other hand, she was my sister, and if I pretended I didn’t know, I would be lying to her.

Even now she was twenty-eight, I felt the need to protect Anna. She was still at school when Dad had died and I’d left university to support Mum. Then when Mum got cancer I did everything I could to keep Anna at uni, to stop her repeating my mistakes. By the time I was twenty-two, Mum was gone and we only had each other.

Chastising myself for not being brave enough to tell Anna myself, I nodded. I know, I heard. It’s horrible. Who could do something like that?

I feel sick, Anna said, and from the colour of her face I could believe it. I think I should come up and help Laura.

I know, I know, I signed, doing my best to soothe her. But she’s got her family with her and she probably doesn’t want anyone else at the moment. And you’ve got classes to teach. Keep in touch so she knows you’re there for her, but give her space. I can’t imagine what she’s going through.

Anna nodded and sniffed, pulling a tissue from somewhere off the screen. It’s just such a shock.

I know, I know. I didn’t know what else I could say. She didn’t question where I’d heard the news from, and I didn’t want to give away the fact that I had inside knowledge about the case, so I tried to change the subject. How are you? Are you busy at the moment?

She shrugged. A bit. I can’t think about it today. I really think I should come up and spend some time with Laura.

Why don’t you give it a few days, let things sink in a bit? She probably won’t want to see anyone right now, anyway.

Anna looked like she was about to protest when the jangling sound of my work phone distracted me. I had forgotten that was what disturbed me earlier.

I’m sorry, I signed. I have a call about work. I need to go. Love you.

Anna frowned, suspicion furrowing a line between her eyebrows, but I hung up before she could question me.

‘Hello, Paige Northwood.’ I tried to sound professional, hoping whoever was calling didn’t realise how reluctant I was to engage with work after what I’d witnessed earlier.

‘Miss Northwood, it’s DC Singh. We’d like to call you back in, if that’s okay? We’d like to use the same interpreter whenever possible, to limit the number of people who know the details of the case.’

Despite giving the detectives my card earlier and encouraging them to call me, the last thing I wanted to do now was leave the comfort and familiarity of my flat. The horror of Lexi’s death loomed large in my mind, and the knowledge that I’d kept quiet about my connection to the family made me uneasy. I found myself wishing they could find another interpreter, but I couldn’t afford to turn down a job at the moment.

‘Any interpreter you book will be bound by client confidentiality,’ I said, the phrase tripping neatly off my tongue. I’d said it so many times before. People were always worried about sharing their personal information with a third party, and seemed to think I was going to gossip about their hernia or their child’s school report down at the Deaf club. Needless to say, I always had better things to talk to my friends about.

‘Nevertheless, we’d prefer you when possible,’ Singh said smoothly.

I rubbed a hand across my face as I leant on the kitchen table. ‘Fine. Is this to take Laura Weston’s statement, as you said earlier?’

‘Yes, a family liaison officer has been with her this morning. We need to ask her a few questions, and we’d rather not have a family member interpreting.’

I assumed he was talking about Bridget, Laura’s mother. I had never met her, but Anna had told me plenty about her. According to my sister, she was besotted with her grandchildren, but could also be immensely overbearing. I pictured how she might have taken over the conversation, answering the officers’ questions instead of interpreting Laura’s answers. Anna and Bridget didn’t get on, and one of the reasons was my sister’s regular attempts to help Laura be more independent of her mother.

Singh reeled off the Westons’ address, although I already knew it. I’d been there a few times to drop Anna off as Laura had been living there ever since Alan left her for Elisha, when both of the women were pregnant.

‘Right. I’ll be there in about half an hour.’ I dropped my phone onto the table as I hung up, knocking a couple of bills onto the floor.

As I drove, I tried not to think about what the job would entail if I continued working for the police on this investigation. I’d never worked with CID before, only ever with uniformed officers when a deaf person had their house burgled, and I couldn’t say I was enjoying the experience. There was so much pain coming from the family, but I couldn’t offer them any reassurance, or help in any practical way other than as a mouthpiece for them. I’d already found myself wondering about the evidence the police had gathered, or what the post-mortem would reveal, but I wouldn’t be privy to any of that detail.

The Westons’ house couldn’t have been more different from the one I had been in just a few hours earlier. It was situated on a new build estate behind a small retail park, where there was a supermarket, various fast-food outlets and a budget chain hotel. The identical houses had identical gardens, all kept neatly, as if the owners were in competition with each other.

I was greeted at the door by Bridget. Even though we hadn’t met, I felt I knew a lot about the family. The walls of the hallway were lined with family photographs – Laura and her two brothers, as well as all of Bridget’s grandchildren. No photos showed Laura’s father, who had never been around for as long as I’d known her.

The frames stretched up the stairs as well, and I knew there would be more in the living room. Closest to the door, I spotted a photo of Laura with her arms around Jaxon and Lexi, the little girl grinning for the camera while her brother scowled. I breathed in sharply as the tragedy of it struck me once again.

Bridget stared at me for a moment after I introduced myself, to the point where I became uncomfortable under her gaze. ‘At least it’s someone Laura knows,’ she said at last. Her face was made-up impeccably, but there was a red puffiness around her eyes from where she’d been crying, and her smile looked forced. Her dark hair was cut in a severe bob, but there were loose strands sticking out at the back, the smallest indicator of the turmoil she must have been going through.

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Weston, I just can’t imagine …’ I tailed off, because all the platitudes sounded meaningless in the face of the horror of what had happened.

Bridget nodded, pressing her lips tightly together to stop them trembling. She waved a manicured hand towards the living room, her bare wrist looking starkly pale. I took the gesture to mean I should go through.

The room had two cream leather sofas taking up most of the wall space, and they were pointed towards a huge flat screen TV. Unlike their counterparts in the Hunter household, the sofas were spotless. As I’d expected, the walls contained more family photos. In the corner there was a space between two photos, with a faded square left on the wall. I assumed a photo of Lexi had hung there; maybe Laura was clinging on to it.

Laura was sitting on one of the sofas, next to a woman I assumed was the family liaison officer. She didn’t move when I entered.

DI Forest was there too, standing to one side of the giant screen. She looked decidedly more uncomfortable there than she had in the Hunter house, and I wondered why that was. Maybe she found it easier to deal with bereaved parents if she suspected them of something? I pushed the thought to the back of my mind – it was none of my business who was a suspect and who wasn’t. It hadn’t even been confirmed how Lexi died, although what I had seen and heard didn’t leave me in any doubt that it was violent.

‘Miss Northwood.’ Forest nodded at me. Turning to Laura, a smile flickered across her face but it was soon gone.

The family liaison officer was probably outranked by Forest – I didn’t know the full ins and outs of it all – but I could see she wanted to say something.

‘Why don’t we sit down, Detective Inspector?’ I suggested, hoping that if I could reduce the tension, the interview would be a bit easier. The family liaison officer beamed at me; she had an ally.

Forest looked at the empty sofa as if it might bite her, then perched on the edge of it. I sat next to her, angled so I could see Laura. I took the opportunity to have a proper look at her. She was wearing jeans with a hole in the knee and a hoodie that was at least three sizes too big. Her head was hunched down into the neck of the jumper, as if she wanted to pull the hood up and disappear into it, pretend none of us were there and this hadn’t happened.

Laura glanced up at me again and I gave her what I hoped was a reassuring yet sympathetic look. There were dark circles around her eyes, but they weren’t as striking as the eyes themselves, which looked dead and glassy. She looked right through me, and I wondered if she was in any state to answer Forest’s questions.

‘Thank you for allowing us to talk to you, Laura,’ Forest began, her voice taking on a gentle quality that surprised me. ‘I know this is very hard for you, but we need your help so we can find out exactly what happened to Lexi.’

I interpreted all of this for Laura and she nodded, but didn’t add anything.

‘Why was Lexi at Alan’s house this weekend?’

She goes every other weekend. She and Jaxon both go to their dad’s house. Laura’s signing was slower than usual, and her body language was muted.

‘When did they go over to Alan’s?’

Last night. I took them to the Deaf club, and we met Alan there.

‘And when should you have picked them up?’

I had to sign this one twice, as Laura kept looking down at her lap, picking at a thread that was coming off the edge of her hoodie. Between answers, she buried her hands in the pocket, seeking comfort and protection.

He brings them back on Monday morning, in time for Jaxon to go to school. Sometimes Sunday night if he’s working early on Monday. She’s always happy when she comes back. She had a beautiful nature, my little Lexi. I was so lucky to have her. My angel child, with her curly hair. She was always so good. Laura’s gaze remained unfocused as she talked about her daughter, and I found myself picturing Lexi the last time I saw her alive, giggling in a soft play ball pool.

The family liaison officer hadn’t spoken, and I still hadn’t heard her name, but she was watching Laura like a hawk. I wondered how long she’d allow the questioning to go on for, though she might not have had any power to overrule Forest.

‘Was anything different about this weekend?’ Forest continued, still in that gentle voice.

Laura frowned at me and signed, What? Different how?

‘Different in what way?’ I interpreted.

‘Was anything happening at your house, or at Alan’s? Were you going out, doing anything special?’

Laura shook her head, then shrugged.

‘Where were you last night?’

Here, with Mum. We watched a film.

‘Were you both here this morning when the police came round?’

Yeah. Mum was going to do some shopping but she hadn’t gone out yet. Laura swallowed and I saw tears well up in her eyes. Alan was out last night, wasn’t he?

‘Yes, for a while,’ Forest replied.

Were my children in bed? Who was looking after them? She was more involved in the conversation now, more like the Laura I knew.

‘As far as we know, the children were in bed, yes. Elisha Barron took care of the children while he was out.’

Laura pulled a face. Left them with her. The last word was signed sharply, her face twisting with a bitterness that surprised me. He doesn’t think about our children.

‘What do you mean, he doesn’t think about the children?’ I heard the subtle change in Forest’s voice as she latched on to something that could be useful.

Laura sank back onto the sofa and shrugged. I don’t want to tell them.

I interpreted this, and Forest frowned at me, confused.

‘Laura doesn’t want to tell you what she means,’ I explained. ‘And now she’s saying to me that I shouldn’t be telling you that.’

My job is to interpret everything you sign, you know that. It’s what I’m here for, I explained to Laura, speaking at the same time so the police officers knew what I was saying. Laura gave a one-shouldered shrug, which I knew was the closest I’d get to an apology.

Forest sighed and sat back a little on the sofa. ‘You don’t have to tell us anything, Laura. You don’t have to talk to us at all. But anything you do tell us might help us to find out why your daughter was killed.’

The sign for ‘killed’ is drawing a finger across the throat, and it brought a vivid picture of Lexi’s body into my mind. I felt a shudder of revulsion at having to sign this, but I kept my feelings to myself and got on with my job.

Alan does what he wants, and he doesn’t care about the children. Sometimes he changes his plans and tells me he can’t see Jaxon and Lexi, then someone tells me he’s getting drunk or going away with his girlfriend.

I picked up on the fact that Laura referred to Elisha as ‘his girlfriend’ rather than naming her. Was she trying to pretend Elisha didn’t exist? Was she still bitter that Alan left her for another woman? From the look on her face, Forest had also noted it.

‘Do you have arguments, you and Alan?’

Laura gave that one-sided shrug again. Sometimes.

‘What do you argue about?’

I just told you. Alan doesn’t care about the children. He does what he wants. He needs to see his children.

‘Okay,’ Forest said, making some notes. ‘When you argue, does it ever get physical?’

I signed this for Laura and she queried my sign, so I checked with Forest. ‘Can you be more specific about physical? Laura isn’t sure what you mean and I don’t want to paraphrase without it being your words.’

I signed Forest’s response, keeping it basic to get the point across: You and Alan, do you ever hit, kick, slap, punch? Ever fight?

Laura shook her head.

‘What about when you were together? Did Alan ever slap or hit you?’

Again, she shook her head, though I was sure I saw some hesitation in her eyes. I couldn’t give my interpretation of body language, though. That sort of guesswork was too inaccurate for such a serious situation.

‘Two years ago, you reported him for assault, but then withdrew your statement.’ Forest didn’t frame it as a question, but watched Laura’s reaction when I interpreted it for her.

I tried to keep my shock from my face. I didn’t know about this, and I wondered if Laura had told Anna.

Laura’s face coloured slightly, but she gave her head a quick shake. No, it was a mistake.

Forest paused to let Laura continue, but she didn’t add to what she’d said.

‘Has he ever hit the children?’

This time Laura just stared at me after I relayed the question to her. It was a blank stare, not one of disbelief or fear, just empty. It was as if someone had turned off what little light there was remaining.

She turned to look at Forest, then looked back at me. Did Alan kill Lexi? Did he kill my little girl?

‘We don’t know anything at the moment. I’m sorry, Laura. The post-mortem and evidence from the house will tell us more. We just need to find out about all of the people who might have been involved in her life.’

The look Laura gave Forest showed she was thinking the same thing as me – if they didn’t suspect Alan, why ask such a direct question?

It must have been him, or Elisha. They were both in the house, weren’t they? One of them did it.

‘We’re still gathering evidence.’

Laura shook her head. No, if someone was in my house and hurt one of my children, I would know. It was one of them.

She set her jaw defiantly, and Forest tilted her head as she looked at Laura appraisingly.

‘What about Elisha? Have you ever fought with her?’

Laura waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. I don’t know that woman. I don’t know her.

‘What do you mean, you don’t know her? She and Alan have been together since before Lexi was born. Don’t you see her when Alan has the children?’

Wrinkling her nose as if she’d smelt something rotten, Laura explained. Yes, I see her, but I don’t talk to her. She’s a slut. She stole him from me. She fucked him when he was mine.

In the years I’d been an interpreter, I still hadn’t got comfortable translating other people’s swearing. I did my best to use an appropriate tone of voice for what was being said, to match the client’s body language, but I was inwardly mortified at having to repeat certain words in front of the police.

Laura rubbed a hand across her face, and I could see how much this was taking a toll on her.

I don’t know what else I can tell you. I don’t know what happened. Who could have done this?

She started to cry again, and the family liaison officer put an arm around her. Forest was about to speak when we heard the phone ring in the hallway, and a moment later Bridget came in.

‘That was a social worker on the phone. We can go and pick Jaxon up now.’

Laura looked at Forest.

‘I think we’ll call it a day,’ the DI said, checking her watch. ‘Thank you for speaking to us, Laura, we know it must be very difficult for you. If you think of anything else that might be important, however small, please let us know. I’ll leave you my number so you can text.’

Laura nodded her thanks, then left the room with Bridget.

‘Paige, can we check your availability for the rest of the week?’ Forest asked. ‘We need to interview Jaxon, though not for a few days.’

‘I don’t usually book jobs in for Sundays, so I’m free all day tomorrow.’ I pulled out my diary and she noted down the times when I would be available for the rest of the week. I had very few appointments booked in, and felt my face grow warm with embarrassment. Going freelance hadn’t been as easy as I’d expected.

‘Good. It’s likely that we’ll need you.’

‘If sessions are going to be more than an hour, you really should book a second interpreter. Either that, or plan in rest breaks.’ I wanted the job, but I also didn’t want to be overworking myself, or letting them work me into the ground.

‘That’s fine, we can arrange that.’

I didn’t know which option DI Forest meant, but by that point I didn’t care. If I did well, there was a good chance I’d get regular police jobs in future. The hours wouldn’t be sociable, but my work had been far from regular since I went freelance. I had to get the work wherever I could. There was still a voice in the back of my mind telling me I couldn’t go it alone, that I should go back to the agencies, but I did my best to ignore it. I knew who’d put that voice there, and it was about time I got rid of it in the same way I’d got rid of him.

Nodding a quick goodbye to Forest and the family liaison officer, whose name I never learned, I headed back to my car and home again for the second time that day.

16 hours before the murder

I don’t see why he should continue to have them every other weekend, Bridget said as Laura packed the children’s bags.

It’s what we agreed, Laura replied.

But if you’re going to tell the court that you’re worried about his care of the children, how will it look if you’re still letting him look after them on a regular basis?

Laura put down the socks she was balling up and glared at her mother. If I don’t let him see the kids, he’ll use that against me in court. And anyway, you’re the one who’s worried about his parenting, not me.

Bridget pursed her lips and didn’t respond. When she realised Laura wasn’t going to pay any attention to her, she went downstairs. Laura sat down on the bed and sighed, double checking the clothes she’d packed for Jaxon and Lexi. She’d told Alan he should keep some clothes for them at his house, but he said it was easiest if she packed them everything they needed and he sent it back on Monday. Of course, God forbid he or Elisha should have to deal with a little extra washing, or spend any money on his children. She bit her lip as tears welled up in her eyes.

The baby monitor on the side vibrated and flashed, so she went through to Lexi’s room to see the little girl wide awake and smiling. Laura picked her daughter up and held her close, kissing her curly head until she began to wriggle, then took her downstairs.

In the living room, Laura got some toys out and put Lexi on the floor. Bridget stood in the doorway with her arms folded for a moment, before signing, It’ll be time for her lunch soon.

Laura took a deep breath and forced a smile onto her face. I know, Mum.

Just don’t let her get too involved with playing, that’s all. She’ll get upset if you take her away from her toys before she’s ready.

If she’s hungry she’ll be fine.

I’ve told you before, you can’t let her dictate when she’s going to eat all the time, Bridget said, coming into the room and moving a glass that Laura had left on the coffee table. You need to get her into a routine.

Laura didn’t reply. She knew there was no point arguing with her mum. Bridget had raised three kids herself, so had plenty of experience, she knew this, but she also wished her mum would let her get on with parenting in her own way. Her brothers lived far enough away that they only saw each other every few months, and she often envied them their freedom. Not for the first time, Laura told herself it was time to move out. She could go on the waiting list for a council house, but while she was living with her mum there was no chance she’d get anything, and she couldn’t face the idea of making herself homeless with two kids. Unless she got a job, she wouldn’t be able to afford to rent privately, even in the poorest areas of Scunthorpe. Finding a job that was accessible as a BSL user wasn’t easy, and last time she’d worked none of her colleagues could communicate with her, which had made her achingly lonely.

She watched Bridget playing with Lexi for a moment, talking to her but not signing. Laura had given up using hearing aids when she was sixteen and started sixth form at the school for the deaf, and had never expected her children to wear them: another parenting decision Bridget constantly picked at. Both Jaxon and Lexi were profoundly deaf, and BSL was her chosen mode of communication with them. She’d stood her ground on this one, though she hadn’t succeeded in getting Jaxon into a school for the deaf yet. That was her next battle to fight with her mother, but she didn’t have the energy for too many arguments at once.

Once she’d got Lexi into her high chair and was feeding her, Bridget started again. Laura knew her mum liked to wait until she couldn’t get away.

We need to start taking this seriously, Laura. What if Alan contests what you’re saying in court? What if he turns it around and tries to get custody himself? There was fear in Bridget’s eyes as she signed this.

He wouldn’t do that, he can’t look after them the whole time.

Of course he can’t, but you can’t trust him, Laura! He’s a dangerous man, you know that. It’s not safe to let him have the children!

Laura stared at her mum. Calm down, he’s not going to do anything that puts them at risk.

How do you know that? Everyone said that about your aunt and uncle, but look what happened!

Laura carried on feeding Lexi and let Bridget rant. She’d been bringing up her aunt and uncle and their failure as parents more often recently. It was her fault, for telling Bridget about that conversation she’d had with Anna. She wondered how much her mum had been dwelling on it.

The two situations were completely different though; her aunt and uncle were both alcoholics who neglected their child. Alan had his issues, she knew that, but he wasn’t a danger to their kids. Part of her still cared for him, and she knew if he wanted her back she’d go. Oh, she’d hesitate for a while, telling him things had to change and he couldn’t just expect her to come running, but in the end she’d give in.

You’re not paying attention to anything I say, are you? Bridget stood up and looked down on Laura where she sat at the table. I’m going to call your solicitor, we need to move things forward.

No! Laura stood up and grabbed Bridget’s hand as she reached for the phone. Lexi looked up at them both from the high chair, a piece of apple clutched in her little fist.

Why not? What aren’t you telling me?

I don’t want to talk about this now, Mum, Laura replied, looking at Lexi.

Bridget glared at her. Laura.

Fine. I’m going to hire an interpreter for my solicitor’s appointments. I want to go on my own next time.

Why? Bridget frowned. You want to shut me out, after everything I’ve done for you?

Laura sighed. You know that’s not true. But I’m an adult, I need to do this for myself. You and the solicitor talk to each other and you don’t explain everything to me. I should be the one making the decisions, but you’re doing it without consulting me.

I have never done such a thing! I’ve always taken your wishes into account …

That’s the point, Laura interrupted. Taking my wishes into account isn’t good enough, you’re not letting me be independent and do this for myself! I don’t even know if I want full custody any more. Alan’s not a bad father. I might put a stop to the whole thing.

Bridget stared at her for a moment, her lips pursed, then she took a step back and held up her hands. Fine. Fine. Do it all yourself, if you don’t want my help I won’t bother. I just hope you don’t end up regretting it.

She flounced out of the kitchen before Laura had a chance to respond.

Chapter 5
Sunday 4th February

The next day, I was back in the same interview room to finish taking Alan’s statement. I was starting to find the drab walls oppressive and wondered if they were deliberately designed to make the occupants uncomfortable.

Being back in the police station unearthed some memories I’d kept buried for many years. I had rarely had any involvement with the police before Lexi’s death. The first time I’d been inside a police station was after the death of a girl I knew. Caitlin was only eight when she died on an outing with a large group from the Deaf club. At the time I’d been one of the only hearing people present, so I found myself acting as an interpreter until they could find someone qualified. After the initial details were clarified, the case took weeks to get going because of the struggle to get interpreters. That experience was the reason I ended up going freelance. Sometimes social workers and the police needed two or three weeks’ notice to book a BSL interpreter, and crises can’t wait that long. Going freelance meant I could be on call for those services, and my intention was to try and ensure nobody had to wait that long to have their voice heard. If I’d told Forest my connection to this family and she’d sent me away, they’d probably still be waiting to take those first statements – I told myself this was why I’d kept it from the detectives, nothing to do with my own burning desire to know what had happened.

I had never intended for interpreting to be my career; I fell into it as a way to earn money after Dad died, to make sure Anna could go to uni, but I always intended to finish my own textile design degree. That never happened, and when I made the decision to break away from an agency and go it alone, I accepted that it never would. I regularly found myself frustrated by the lack of support I could offer my clients. I acted as a mouthpiece for them, but I hadn’t yet succeeded in creating greater deaf awareness amongst the services they used.

Pulling myself back to the present, I focused on the interview ahead. Alan Hunter was there to finish giving his statement, and I’d been provisionally booked by the police for the following three days. I knew I had to remain professional, but I was exhausted after broken sleep plus another three emotionally draining calls from my sister.

Whenever I had seen Alan before, he’d tended to swagger and make his presence known. The change in him was startling: he was hunched over the table in the interview room as if he were trying to curl up into a ball. His eyes were red, his hair was a mess and his skin looked yellow with fatigue. Part of me felt sympathy for him, then it struck me that he was most likely a suspect. Forest and Singh both looked very serious, and something about the atmosphere felt different from when they took the first half of his statement yesterday morning. Wondering what they might have discovered since then, a jolt of revulsion coursed through me.

‘Mr Hunter, we want to talk to you about the night of Friday the second of February, the night your daughter, Lexi, was killed.’ Forest’s face was impassive as she began. ‘Can you tell me what happened that night?’

Alan watched me with dead eyes as I translated the question, then screwed his face up and looked down at his hands. He shrugged.

‘We need you to tell us what happened that night,’ Forest repeated.

Alan didn’t look up, so I waved to attract his attention, and he finally looked at me.

I don’t know what happened, he eventually responded. Someone came into my house and hurt Lexi. I don’t know why.

‘Start at the beginning. Elisha told us you went out to the pub, is that correct?’

He nodded. I went back out after I picked up the kids at the Deaf club. I was there with some friends. We had a few drinks, talked about football. That’s all.

‘Did you see anything strange during the evening on Friday? Anyone hanging around your house who shouldn’t have been there?’

I thought Alan was about to sign something in response, but he shook his head.

‘Have you had any concerns about people around your house on any other night, anyone watching your children or behaving strangely?’

Again, he seemed to think for a moment before shaking his head.

‘Is there any reason for you to believe someone else had been in your house on Friday night?’ Singh asked, his smooth, deep voice a complete contrast to Forest’s clipped tones. They were back to that good cop, bad cop thing again; I’d thought it only happened in films. Singh still looked pretty severe though, and it was the body language and facial expression that would give Alan the impression he needed.

No, Alan replied with a frown. What do you mean?

‘You said someone must have come into your house and killed Lexi. Did you see anyone in your house? Was there anything that made you think someone had been there?’

Like what? He looked wary as he processed Singh’s question.

‘Had anything been moved? Had a window been broken, or a lock forced?’ Forest asked, her eyes boring into him. I knew the police would have found any evidence of a break in. Were they asking Alan about it to try to catch him in a lie? I caught my breath at the thought.

I don’t think so, he replied, slowly shaking his head. But it must have been a stranger.

‘Why do you say that?’ Forest asked, her voice razor-sharp.

Alan stared at her for a moment. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t Elisha.

‘So if it wasn’t you, or Elisha, and there was no sign of a break in, how did this mysterious person get into your house?’

There was a long pause after I interpreted this question, as the meaning behind it sank in. Alan started to shake his head, slowly at first but quickly gathering speed, then he put his face into his hands and began to sob. I raised my eyebrows at Forest.

The detectives gave Alan a minute or two to compose himself before they continued.

‘What upset you so much?’ Singh asked once Alan had blown his nose and was looking at them again.

Hunter fidgeted for a moment before responding. I was thinking about Lexi. I was thinking about how someone came into my house and killed my little girl, and I didn’t even wake up. Someone took her life away. I’m never going to hold her or play with her again. Any father would be upset. Lexi was my little girl, and I blame myself for what happened.

Singh’s face displayed a sympathetic smile. ‘Of course, we understand this is very distressing for you. Still, we need you to answer our questions.’

Okay.

‘Is there anyone you suspect might have hurt Lexi?’

No. I don’t know anyone who would do this.

‘Have you recently had any arguments or disagreements with anyone? Someone who might want to take revenge?’

Alan’s jaw tensed, but he shook his head.

‘Elisha was upstairs at the time Lexi was killed.’ Forest sat back in her chair and folded her arms, this statement more powerful than any question she had asked.

There was a long pause before Alan responded. I don’t know what you’re trying to say. Elisha would never hurt Lexi. She’s so upset, she can’t eat or sleep. She blames herself, too. She blames herself for not waking up when there was someone in our house. Elisha loved Lexi, she would never do anything to hurt her. As he signed this, he became more agitated, his face reddening.

Forest watched him for a moment, but he didn’t sign anything else, lapsing into a stubborn silence to match hers. After an uncomfortable length of time, she nodded and moved on to the next question.

‘When Elisha came down to tell you what had happened to Lexi, did you go upstairs to see for yourself?’

Alan nodded. I didn’t believe her at first. I thought maybe she was wrong, Lexi was just sleeping. He hung his head.

‘And when you knew your daughter had been killed, did you have any immediate thought about what might have happened, or who might have done it?’

There was a long pause. Hunter looked shifty, his right knee bouncing up and down as he looked anywhere but at me or the two detectives.

Should I have a lawyer here with me?

‘You’re not under arrest, Mr Hunter. We just need to make sure you’ve given us your full statement about Friday night.’

Does that mean I can go? I’ve finished telling you what I know.

Forest screwed up her mouth into a grimace, but nodded. ‘You can leave whenever you want. If you think of anything else, anything at all about that night, please let us know.’

Alan asked again for clarification that he could leave, then got up and walked out before anyone could say another word.

Before I left the station, DI Forest confirmed that they wanted me to be on call for the rest of the week, in case they needed to conduct more interviews. Tomorrow, they were going to have to interview Jaxon, and I didn’t relish that task. How could I ask a little boy if he’d seen who killed his sister?

I had the rest of the day free, and once Forest signed my time sheet I headed home. Just under half an hour later, I pulled up outside my flat. I was hoping I could manage to have the rest of the day to myself, but as soon as I got out of the car I realised that wasn’t going to happen. Anna was sitting on the doorstep. She got up as soon as she saw me walking up the path, and I noticed the large bag next to her.

Why didn’t you tell me you were interpreting for the police?

I didn’t know what I could say. You know I have to keep my work confidential.

Anna frowned but didn’t reply. I raised my eyebrows, looking pointedly at the bag. She shrugged, answering the question I didn’t even need to ask.

I’m moving in.

Chapter 6

It didn’t take Anna long to get settled in my spare room; my flat was essentially her second home. The scant amount I’d inherited from our parents had just about covered the deposit for it. When my last disastrous relationship had imploded, leaving me with virtually nothing, I thanked any god that was listening that I’d managed to keep the flat in my name.

After Mum’s cancer left us parentless, I could have moved away, or gone back to university, but something held me back. I told myself I wanted to keep family roots in North Lincolnshire, in case Anna ever wanted to move back from London, but I think I was scared. While I’d always had more than my fair share of responsibility in our family, I’d found myself supporting Mum and Anna financially when Dad died. I signed up as an unqualified interpreter to make sure we had some money coming in, then did my qualifications at weekends. Without our parents, I didn’t want to feel like Anna and I would become rootless, and I felt a huge weight of responsibility towards her. She carried on her studies in London, and I made sure she had a home to come back to each holiday. It was never the same as it had been before Dad died, but I worked hard to keep us from crumbling.

Can we go for a walk? she asked me once she’d unpacked her bag. I need some fresh air.

I agreed, and the two of us bundled ourselves up in coats and scarves and went out into the chilly afternoon air. North Lincolnshire is a mostly rural county, and I’d chosen to buy a flat in one of the villages outside Scunthorpe. It was only a ten-minute drive from the industrial town, but the difference in the landscape was striking. Here, it would only take us a couple of minutes of walking before we found ourselves in open fields, stretching away as far as the eye could see.

The cloudless sky was a crisp, pale blue and our breath fogged in front of us as we walked through quiet residential streets towards the church, until we turned down a lane. The houses soon petered out, leaving a farm to our left and open fields to our right. We hadn’t gone far, but we’d soon left most of the sights and sounds of the village behind us. In a few hours, the stargazing conditions would be perfect, with clear skies and very little light pollution. As it was, the two of us walked without chatting for another five minutes, until we reached the community sports field.

You knew before I called you yesterday, didn’t you? Anna asked when we finally stopped.

I nodded and leaned back against the gate. I gave my details to the police when I went freelance. They called me out to the house first thing yesterday morning.

Anna squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She looked out over the field for a couple of minutes, where a small group of boys was playing football.

Why didn’t you tell me? You should have called as soon as you knew. Anna was always direct, and I should have expected her reaction.

Because I’m a coward, I admitted. I knew how devastated you would be, and I didn’t want to be the person who made your heart break.

That’s crap, Paige. I found out through Facebook. Do you have any idea how horrible it is to get news like that via social media?

I hung my head, ashamed of myself for putting my sister through that. I’m so sorry.

She nodded, and I knew I was forgiven. Anna wasn’t the sort to bear a grudge, and there were far greater things to worry about.

I only talked to Laura on Friday. She called me while she was at soft play with Lexi. Then just a few hours later … Anna shuddered and didn’t finish the thought.

We stood next to each other for a moment, lost in our own thoughts, until she turned, squared her shoulders and looked me in the eye.

What’s happening now? Have they arrested anyone?

Nothing like that. They haven’t even released the results of the post-mortem yet. It could have been anyone. I scuffed my toe in the gravel by the gate and stifled a yawn. I was shattered, emotionally wrung out.

Why won’t they say what’s happened? You can’t pretend it was anything other than murder, not like with Caitlin.

I gave my head the smallest of shakes; I wasn’t prepared to talk about Caitlin.

When did you last see her? Anna asked me. For a moment I didn’t realise she was talking about Lexi, but then I noticed she had her keys in her hand. The keyring had a photo inside it. Lexi, with her thick dark curls framing her face, giggling. Her natural state of being.

The time you took her to soft play, just before Christmas.

Anna nodded. She loved it there. Whenever I looked after her, I’d take her there while Laura spent time with Jaxon. There was nothing she didn’t enjoy. Lexi was the happiest child I’ve ever known. Completely the opposite of her brother.

I nodded, remembering the way Lexi giggled as she climbed and rolled, Anna lifting her up and tickling her, or burying her under the ball pool. She’d slept all the way home, exhausted by all the fun she’d been having. There wasn’t a single grump or grizzle out of her the whole day.

I hope the police find who did this, she said. She stepped away from the fence and stared at me, the same determined stare I remembered from when we were children and she had a challenge ahead of her. I started walking again, feeling the need to move.

I just can’t comprehend how something like this could happen. Why would someone kill Lexi? Anna asked, as if I were keeping the answer from her, but I had asked myself the same question dozens of times.

An image floated through my mind of a cuddly bear with a bloodstained foot. There were too many unanswered questions, and I didn’t know what to think. I wanted to believe that this was something that couldn’t have been prevented, a tragic accident, but that wasn’t possible. Both Alan and Elisha seemed evasive. Were they trying to cover something up, hoping they wouldn’t be held responsible? If they were the only people in the house … I couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought.

Anna had always been good at picking up on my emotions, and I knew she could see the turmoil going on behind my eyes. She kept pace with me, putting an arm around me, and we walked like that for a while. I knew she’d be thinking the same things as me, but it was too much to process.

When we were nearly back at the flat, she stopped me and turned me to face her.

What do you know? she asked, her eyes searching my face for information.

I shook my head. I can’t tell you about it, you know that.

Please, Paige. I have to know what happened.

You don’t. It won’t make it any better. Anyway, it’s confidential. I have to be professional about this.

I won’t tell anyone, she implored. Please.

I shook my head. No.

She looked like she was going to ask again, but thought better of it. I was glad; I was stressed enough as it was. If I was going to be involved in the investigation, I hoped it moved quickly. There was only so much of it I could take.

For the rest of the day, Anna and I caught up, talking about anything we could think of other than Lexi. Her ghost was there with us, in the room, but we managed to avoid the subject until the evening, when we were hopping around Netflix and sharing a bottle of Pinot Grigio.

There are loads of rumours flying around online, Anna told me, scrolling through her phone.

What about?

Lexi. Who might have done it; why they did it.

I frowned at her. Facebook isn’t exactly the most reliable source of information, is it?

She shrugged. It’s still interesting to know what people are saying. I can’t get information from anywhere else, she said pointedly, but I didn’t take the bait. She’d piqued my interest, though, and I tried peering over her shoulder, then gave up and opened my laptop so we could have a better look.

Someone, presumably one of Laura’s friends, had set up a page entitled ‘RIP Lexi’, where people had been leaving messages for Laura and her family, offering their sympathy and expressing outrage. It was all very banal, like when there’s a terrorist attack or a natural disaster and everyone rushes to write ‘Praying for Paris’ as their status, as if it will send mystical healing energy across the sea to whichever city’s afflicted.

Anna logged into her account, because it was her friends who were discussing it rather than mine, and I couldn’t access their pages. Clicking on her notifications, she pointed out that someone had added her to a group called ‘JFL’. I told her to click on it, intrigued.

It was a secret group. The description read ‘Justice for Lexi. The police need to know the truth about Alan Hunter and lock him up.’ Well, at least it was unambiguous. I wondered who set it up, because there was a good chance they could be done for libel, by the looks of what people were saying.

There was a real mix of posts, most of which fell into that same meaningless sympathy category, then a few attention seekers, and some who seemed to think of themselves as private investigators. A few all caps rants were thrown into the mix:

ALAN HUNTER IS A DRUGGIE AND SELLS DRUGS TO KIDS HE SHULD NOT BE ALOUD TO LOOK AFTER KIDS.

This is ridiculous, I told Anna, and she nodded but carried on scrolling.

I skimmed the posts as she scrolled. Most were concerned with Alan’s drug peddling. Everyone in our community knew he was a minor dealer, so I was sure the police must have already known something about it. Maybe evidence would come to light during this investigation that they couldn’t ignore.

I don’t think there’s really anything useful on here, I told her, but she shook her head.

Look at this one. She pointed to the screen.

It was a post from someone called MB – I had no idea who it was, but I was sure they must have been connected to the family in some way, from what they’d written. I read the post through a couple of times.

‘The paper has more information about how Lexi died. The police need to connect the dots with Alan Hunter’s previous arrests.’

That was it. Just two sentences, but they left me with far more questions. Clearly, this person had intended to be cryptic, but he or she had no replies to their post, so either people were ignoring it or they didn’t know what it meant.

Do you have the local paper? Anna asked.

No, but we should be able to read the story online. I’d given up my pretence that I wasn’t interested beyond my professional connection to the case.

Did you know Alan had ever been arrested? Anna asked.

I remembered what Forest had said about Alan having a record.

Not before this happened, I told her, opening a new browser window and pulling up the site for our local paper. It didn’t take long to find the stories about Lexi, as it had been on the local news the night before and all the front pages that morning. Something that shocking wouldn’t be ignored by the media.

Poring over the most recent article, it didn’t take me long to find exactly what MB had been talking about in that mysterious post.

‘An unnamed source has reported that Lexi suffered blunt force trauma from a heavy object, some time late Friday night or in the early hours of Saturday morning. Witnesses are being questioned, although no arrests have been made at this time.’

Blunt force trauma? You said they didn’t know how she died. Anna gave me a hurt look, as if I’d deliberately lied to her.

I don’t know anything about her cause of death, I insisted. I didn’t think they had the post-mortem results yet. I’d seen the blood all over Elisha and the teddy bear, as well as a brief glimpse of Lexi herself, but there was no way I was going to tell Anna about it. She didn’t need that image in her head any more than I did.

What has this article got to do with Alan? What did that post mean about his previous arrests? Laura never told me Alan had been in trouble with the police, even after he left her for Elisha.

Anna pulled up the secret group again, looking for MB’s post, but she couldn’t find it. I took the laptop from her and scrolled up and down the page a few times, wondering if it had been bumped down by people commenting on other posts, but it definitely wasn’t there.

Where did the post go?

I shrugged. Maybe they deleted it, or whoever the group admin is got rid of it? I did a quick search for the screen name, but no profiles came up. What could have happened in the space of a few minutes to make someone delete their post?

It’s gone.

It can’t have just gone. Anna grabbed the laptop and searched again, but came up with nothing.

Maybe it was deleted because it was libellous?

Anna gave me a dismissive wave of her hand. How can we find out why Alan was arrested before?

Thank God for the internet. I didn’t fancy traipsing down to the library and looking through old copies of the paper, or whatever it was people used to do before we had this handy worldwide database of cat pictures and porn.

To begin with, we searched for his name, but that brought up far too many results for us to wade through. There were an awful lot of people called Alan Hunter in the world – hundreds on Facebook, at first glance. So we added further search terms to narrow it down: Alan Hunter deaf Scunthorpe. We spent the next ten minutes trawling through articles about deaf football – it seemed Alan was a pretty good player until he suffered an injury.

Trying again, we searched for ‘Alan Hunter deaf Scunthorpe arrested’ and hit the jackpot. It was only a small article, from three years earlier, but the gist was clear: Alan was suspected of attacking a man in the street, a man who allegedly owed him money. How had this man been attacked? He’d been clubbed with a heavy object.

A cold feeling washed over me as I thought about the implications of what we’d read, and from the look on Anna’s face I could tell she was thinking the same thing. Clearly, this was exactly the connection MB wanted the police to make. Alan’s daughter probably died after being hit with a heavy object. Alan had a history of attacking people and bludgeoning them. I couldn’t find out if Alan was charged and spent any time in jail, as the article didn’t specify, so I wondered if he was released. Maybe that was why MB’s post was taken down, because Alan wasn’t actually convicted? So was this MB person just a troublemaker, another of the people convinced Alan must have killed Lexi, or did they know something about that night?

Anna tried a few more times to get information out of me about the case, but I stood my ground. It wasn’t just because I needed to keep things confidential; I didn’t think it would do Anna any good to know what I’d seen and heard. She had been here less than a day, and I was already worried about how far she wanted to involve herself and interfere. I knew I was already in too deep, but I hoped by keeping Anna close I could prevent her going the same way.

15 hours before the murder

Alan finished work on the lorry’s tyre and checked his watch. Carefully putting his tools away, he wandered down the road outside the yard before he lit his cigarette. Whatever others might think of him, he wouldn’t break his employer’s safety rules by smoking that close to the petrol tanks.

It was Friday, which meant he’d have the kids for the weekend. He really needed to speak to Laura and change the arrangement, they were bloody hard work. Surely one weekend in three would be enough? He loved his children, of course, but sometimes he wanted a bit of time without them. Good job Elisha was good with kids.

He stubbed out his cigarette and was about to walk back up the road to the haulage yard where he worked when a black Fiesta pulled up next to him. It had a large spoiler on the back, black wheel trims and yellow filters over the headlights, none of which hid the fact that the car had seen better days.

Rick Lombard wound down the window and Alan looked towards his workplace, debating whether to ignore him or have a conversation.

What are you doing here? he asked at last, sauntering closer to the car but staying far enough away that if anyone asked, he could say the driver was lost and asking for directions.

I’ve got the stuff.

And you thought you should come to my workplace and tell me that? Alan clenched his jaw, holding in his anger.

You never answer your phone, Lombard replied with a shrug.

Alan shook his head and started to walk away, but Lombard got out of the car and caught up to him. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Alan spun around and glared at the other man, who was significantly shorter than he was.

Get your fucking hand off me, he signed, knocking Lombard’s hand away in the process.

Don’t think you can threaten me, Hunter. I don’t give a shit about your reputation. We had an arrangement, and I came here to tell you I’ve done my side of the deal.

The two men stared each other out for a moment, until Alan took a step back. We’re not going to have a problem, are we? He looked Lombard up and down, his nostrils flaring. He’d kept out of trouble recently, but his fingers were itching for a fight. He’d made a deal with the slippery bastard but he didn’t like him, so he’d be more than happy to give him a kicking.

After a moment of tension, Lombard gave a casual shrug. No, no problem. Let me know when you’re ready to look it over.

He turned and walked off, kicking up gravel as he went. Alan watched him leave and wondered if he was going to regret making this deal.

Chapter 7
Monday 5th February

I was looking after two little girls, and I left them playing nicely in my living room while I went to the kitchen to get them some snacks. Before I could open the cupboard, a terrible scream brought me rushing back through to see a faceless figure standing over them both, a hammer raised above their heads. I watched in horror as the two girls scratched and kicked their attacker, but I couldn’t move or make a sound to stop it.

When my alarm went off I sat bolt upright, sweat dripping off me despite the frost on my window. I rolled over to turn it off, and knocked a glass of water off my bedside table. Swearing, I jumped out of bed and rescued my phone charger from the rapidly spreading puddle. As the nightmare faded, I recognised the two girls for who they were: Lexi and Caitlin.

I checked my work phone, but there were no new calls or messages. Still, I had a busy day ahead of me – Forest had booked me for Jaxon’s interview, followed by a further chat with Laura. After that, I thought, I’d need about twelve hours’ sleep, though I expected I’d get more questions from Anna later. When she’d turned up, I thought she would add to my problems, but it had been nice to have some company last night. I wasn’t sure I wanted her getting involved, but some of the things we’d found out online had set my brain ticking.

Dragging myself to the bathroom, I frowned at the tiny lines forming at the edges of my eyes. I was only thirty, but I was sure I’d gained more wrinkles in the last six months than was natural. I really needed a break, but that wouldn’t happen until Lexi’s case was solved. Forest warned me that they should have the results of the post-mortem by this morning, so they would be telling Laura how Lexi died. How had the local paper got hold of that information so soon? A shiver ran down my spine. Thinking of Laura, I checked my watch and realised I needed to get a move on.

Can I come with you? Anna was standing in the hallway, dressed and ready to go.

I sighed, exasperated. You can’t. You know you can’t.

Please, Paige. I’m her friend who happens to be visiting. That’s all.

It’s Jaxon’s interview first. I can’t just bring you with me.

Her face fell. She won’t be in the interview, will she? Can’t I just wait with her, keep her company? I promise I won’t do anything to mess up your job.

Chewing my bottom lip, I thought about it. It would be good for Laura to have a friend there.

Fine. This is just about you being Laura’s friend, though. Okay?

Of course!

I hated myself for thinking about my reputation at a time like that, but it was too important not to mention. I knew Anna was smart enough not to do anything to jeopardise my career, but I had to make sure. It might be better if we didn’t tell the police she was my sister, but I didn’t know how long I could hide my connection to the family.

I’d been given the address of a different building in town, which the police used when interviewing children and other vulnerable witnesses, and I was jittery by the time we arrived. Whilst I’d spent a little time with Lexi, I didn’t really know Jaxon, and I was used to interpreting for adults. I’d seen him a few times but he’d never acknowledged that he recognised me. Would he respond to me?

DC Singh met us at the door and I introduced Anna by her first name only, explaining that she was Laura’s friend and was going to keep her company while Jaxon was interviewed. He nodded his agreement and led us through to a room where Laura was sitting, desperately trying to get her son’s attention.

When Laura saw Anna, her face lit up, and the two of them hugged for a long time. Anna sat down to talk to her friend, so Singh took me aside.

‘The need for interpreting makes this interview a little complicated. Normally, when we interview children, the officer conducting the interview will be in one room with the child and usually with a social work officer, with a notetaker observing in an adjoining room. We decided it was best to use someone Jaxon is familiar with for communication, and for you to be in the adjoining room, to support the notetaker by interpreting what Jaxon and the communicator are signing. Is that okay?’

I tried to wrap my head around what he’d said. ‘So I’ll be watching, but I won’t be in the room?’

‘Yes.’

‘Who’s communicating for Jaxon?’

Singh nodded his head at the doorway, through which I could see Forest talking to a woman with frizzy hair. ‘That’s Hannah Lachlan. She’s a communication support worker, and she works with Jaxon at school.’

I watched as the woman’s glance darted nervously around her, and I wondered if she’d drawn the short straw. I understood their reasoning for using someone Jaxon already knew, and if I was honest, I felt a bit relieved. I had no idea how Jaxon would respond to me.

Singh led me through to a room with a large window overlooking an interview room. The other room was set up with comfy chairs and a colourful playmat with toy cars on it, as well as a stack of paper next to pots of pencils and crayons. The window fascinated me, knowing that we could see whoever was in the next room, but they couldn’t see us.

Hannah Lachlan also followed us in, and Singh introduced us. A moment later we saw a door open in the other room, and DI Forest led Laura and Jaxon inside.

‘Miss Weston is going to help Jaxon to settle in the room first, before you go in, Mrs Lachlan,’ Singh murmured to us. I wondered if sound could pass through the mirrored glass, or if he was just being cautious.

The communication support worker chewed her lip and nodded. ‘I hope he’s okay. Just thinking about what he might have seen …’ She shivered and her voice tailed off. Tension radiated off her.

‘Have you worked with him long?’ I asked, curious, but also hoping to relax her by getting her talking.

She nodded. ‘About eighteen months now. He’s in a mainstream school, so he needs someone to sign for him all the time. We’re doing our best for him.’ Hannah Lachlan spoke quickly, gabbling and stumbling over her words. She bit her lip again, as if conscious that she shouldn’t say more than was professional.

Singh cleared his throat, then flashed a smile at Hannah Lachlan before escorting her into the next room. At the same time, another woman entered the room I was in and introduced herself as the notetaker. So many people required to take a statement from one six-year-old boy. I hoped it was useful, but I also hoped for Jaxon’s sake that he’d been fast asleep and hadn’t witnessed his sister’s murder.

As I watched Laura leave her son with DI Forest and Hannah Lachlan, Singh joined me again. I was surprised that she was the one conducting the interview, as she was far less approachable than the DC, but she was a higher rank.

‘Jaxon, we want to ask you some questions about Friday night, when your sister Lexi was hurt.’

I watched Hannah Lachlan try to get Jaxon’s attention, but he was looking around the room at the cars. She tried waving, and tapping his arm, but he stubbornly refused to look at her until she moved to kneel in front of him, and even then his eyes slid away from her. She simplified her signing to get the message across, and I interpreted exactly what she had signed for the notetaker.

At first, Jaxon didn’t respond. He grabbed some of the crayons and began to scribble on one of the pieces of paper, holding four crayons together to make a multi-coloured scrawl. He got off the sofa and knelt in front of the table, bending low over the piece of paper. Hannah Lachlan tapped him and signed the question again, shooting a worried look towards DS Forest.

Jaxon slammed the crayons down on the table. I sleep. Lexi sleep. Kasey sleep. Lexi head all blood.

I interpreted this word for word for the notetaker, instead of converting it into a full sentence. BSL has a very different grammatical structure from English, and the meaning of a sign can change depending on how it’s signed or the facial expression used. When interpreting, you use all of the information available to translate it into standard English, exactly as you would if you were interpreting a spoken language. In this case, however, I didn’t want to be accused of adding to the meaning of Jaxon’s statement. While I did this, Hannah Lachlan told Forest what he’d said.

‘Was there anyone else in the room?’ Forest asked.

I woke up. Lexi on bed all blood. Elisha told me stay there, go tell Daddy.

‘Did Elisha tell Daddy, or you?’

Jaxon picked up a black crayon and scribbled with it, pressing so hard it snapped in his hand, then he threw it down on the floor. Elisha. Told. Daddy. He signed this without looking up, his signs jerky, with pauses in between. Suddenly, he swept all the paper and the pots of crayons onto the floor, making Forest and Hannah Lachlan jump.

Jaxon climbed onto the sofa, standing up on it and jumping up and down. Hannah Lachlan got up and took his hand, encouraging him to sit down again, which he did, kicking his heels on the base of the sofa.

‘Jaxon, was anyone else in the room? Did you see any other person in your bedroom?’

He sat still for a moment, and signed very clearly. Bad man killed my sister Lexi.

Forest leant forward slightly. ‘Did you see a bad man?’

Jaxon shook his head, and I heard Singh exhale as if he’d been holding his breath. Grandma said.

There was a pause, but he didn’t sign anything else.

‘What did Grandma say?’ Forest asked.

Grandma told me bad man. Bad man killed my sister Lexi. Jaxon looked at Forest as he signed this, then turned to the car mat, pushing his communication support worker out of the way to get to it. He began to play with the cars, and refused to look around when Hannah Lachlan tried to get his attention again.

Picking up a car, he pretended to drive it around the mat, then across the floor towards Forest. He drove it over Forest’s feet, up one of her shins, across her knees then back down to the floor, then clambered onto the sofa again. He ran the toy car along the back of the sofa, then stood on the cushion and traced a pattern up the wall with it. Hannah Lachlan moved forward to try and get him down again, but he spun around and flung the car at her, striking her just above her eye. She cried out, and Forest got up to help her, but Jaxon just carried on playing with the other cars.

‘I think that’s enough,’ Singh muttered as he rushed out, and I watched the scene in the room as he ushered Laura in and she scooped up her son.

Behind me, the notetaker packed up and left, but I continued to stand behind the mirrored glass, shock at Jaxon’s behaviour rendering me inert. As Laura led Jaxon out, he pointed at the bump already forming on Hannah Lachlan’s face and laughed. Laura looked mortified, and hurried him out of the room.

‘Well, that was livelier than I expected,’ Forest said, and I realised she was talking to Singh. They were the only people left in the other room now, and they didn’t know I was still in the side room, listening. I should leave, I told myself. I couldn’t stay there and listen to them. But I didn’t move.

‘I think Bridget Weston has coached him about what happened, so I don’t think what he’s said is going to be of any use to us.’ Singh shook his head in exasperation.

‘I think you’re right. Plus I don’t think anyone would accept that interview as valid. His behaviour could have been caused by distress and trauma.’

‘Given what we’ve heard about his behavioural problems, I don’t think that was completely out of character. I suppose we should have been better prepared.’ Singh picked up the folder that was sitting on Forest’s chair and read for a minute, letting out a low whistle. He looked up at Forest with a raised eyebrow.

‘He’s only six.’

‘I know.’

I knew that if Forest caught me listening in on their conversation, she’d fire me on the spot, but I couldn’t resist. Nobody would give me any information, so I had to find ways of keeping myself informed. At least, that’s how I justified it to myself.

Singh blew air out of his cheeks as he read the file, his eyebrows threatening to meet his hairline. ‘And he did all this?’

Forest nodded. ‘And apparently every time the school try to address it, Bridget Weston turns it around on them. Tells them they’re not supporting him properly, he’s frustrated because he’s not being stimulated, people can’t communicate with him, and so on.’

This exchange didn’t surprise me. I could picture Bridget insisting Jaxon wasn’t to blame for his own behaviour. I was desperate to read that file and find out what had shocked Singh.

‘They need to get someone to assess him, get to the bottom of why he behaves like this. Now social work are involved with the family, perhaps they can push through some referrals. It could be something serious.’

The detectives shot each other a look, and I dreaded to think what they were implying.

‘Hannah Lachlan seems to be the one who gets it in the neck the most,’ Forest continued. ‘The school had to send her on a course so she’s allowed to physically restrain him if necessary. The woman looked terrified. I wondered if we were going to have to postpone, get another communicator.’ Forest grimaced. ‘And now for another shit job.’ She waved another sheet of paper at Singh.

‘Post-mortem results?’

I took a deep breath. I had been dreading this part. On the other side of the glass, Forest nodded.

‘How much do we need to share with the mother?’

Forest rubbed her face. ‘Enough that she knows what happened, but no more.’

‘Right. I’d better speak to Paige,’ Singh said, his glance flicking to the mirror.

My heart leapt into my mouth and I lunged for the door, dashing into the corridor and leaning against the opposite wall. I hoped I looked casual, but the door hadn’t quite closed when Singh stepped out into the corridor. He looked from the door to me and cocked his head on one side ever so slightly. I felt a blush begin to rise up my face and prayed he wouldn’t notice.

‘We need to chat with Laura,’ Singh said to me, ‘give her a bit more information, but she asked if she could take Jaxon home first.’

I assumed Hannah Lachlan had interpreted that request, but didn’t trust myself to speak until my heart stopped racing.

‘Can you meet us there in about half an hour?’

‘Of course.’

He turned to leave, but I stopped him. ‘Is it okay if Anna comes too? She wants to help Laura, if she can.’ I held back from telling him she was my sister; I thought Singh would probably give me the benefit of the doubt, but I had no idea how Forest would react.

‘Sure, as long as Laura’s happy for her to be there.’ He gave me a sad smile and walked off, leaving me trying to process what I’d heard about Jaxon. Was his behaviour in there a reaction to the death of his sister, or was there something deeper at the root of it?

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