Say You're Sorry(32)
“Please just answer the question.”
Hayden gets to his feet, pulling forward and back like a dog jerking against a leash.
“What did he do to her?”
“I know you’re angry, son. That’s understandable in the circumstances, but you have to leave this to us.”
Hayden isn’t listening. “I saw him on the news. He killed them people in our old house. Did he take our Tash? What did he do to her?”
Drury looks at Alice, hoping she might intervene, but she seems to be wrestling with the news, fighting her emotions.
The DCI tries again. “Did Natasha know William and Patricia Heyman?”
Alice shakes her head.
“What about their daughter, Flora?”
“I don’t know.”
Hayden picks up a cushion from the floor and holds it against his chest as he paces. Alice stares at the muted TV as though lip-reading.
She whispers. “You read those stories, don’t you, of people who never give up hope. Who never stop believing that their children are coming home…” She takes a deep breath. “I stopped believing. I gave up on Tash. I should have had more faith.”
“There’s nothing you could have done,” says Drury.
“Do you know how often I just sat holding the phone, willing it to ring? I did it for weeks, months, nearly a year. Until I finally convinced myself that she was dead. I stopped praying. I stopped thinking she was alive. In the darkest part of the darkest night, I abandoned my little girl… and all the time she was alive. She was trying to get home.”
A sob breaks inside her chest. “I want to see her.”
“I don’t think that’s—”
“I want to see my Natasha.”
“You have to understand—she’s been away a long time—she doesn’t look like she once did.”
“I don’t care. She’s my daughter.”
Drury glances at me, wanting me to dissuade Alice, but I’ve seen grief in many forms and this mother knows her mind. It’s not that Alice doesn’t believe Drury or that she’s clinging to some irrational hope that Tash might still be alive. She wants to say sorry. She wants to say goodbye.
The DCI relents. “In the meantime, I’m going to assign a family liaison officer. She’ll keep you informed of developments. For the time being we won’t be releasing any information to the media. We’d prefer, for the sake of the investigation, that nobody knows it was Natasha in the lake. We have to re-interview witnesses and check alibis. I’m sure you understand.”
“For how long?” Hayden asks, treating it like an imposition.
Drury stands to leave. “Just a few days.”
“Before we go,” I interrupt. “I have a few questions for Mrs. McBain.”
Alice blinks at me, as though taken by surprise.
“I wanted to ask you about Natasha.”
“What about her?”
“What was she like? I’ve seen the photographs and read the statements but I want to hear it from you… in your own words.”
Hayden looks at me incredulously. “What difference does it make now? She’s dead!”
Ignoring him, I focus on Alice. “I’m a psychologist. I’m trying to understand what happened. By knowing more about Natasha, I can learn things about the man who took her.”
“You think she’s to blame for this?”
“No.”
Hayden wants to protest but Alice touches his forearm with her fingertips. He swallows his anger, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Meanwhile, Alice begins talking softly, describing Natasha. Instead of physical details, she mentions moments, relationships, loves. Natasha had a dog. She got him as a puppy on her twelfth birthday, a Jack Russell. She called him Basher. They used to go everywhere together.
“Tash even smuggled him to school one day.” Alice smiles. “She could be a terror, but she was a good student, our Tash. Clever. Easily bored. They said she was expelled, but the school would have taken her back. Mrs. Jacobson told me so.”
“How did she get on with her father?”
“They had their moments.”
“Moments?”
Alice falters. “You try to set boundaries, you know. Kids try to cross them. Tash wanted to grow up too quick. Couldn’t wait for anything.”
“Did she have boyfriends?”
“She was popular.”
“Did she ever take drugs?”
Her eyes narrow and Hayden answers for her.
“What the fuck does that matter? You can’t come in here and say shit like that. She’s dead! What sort of moron—”
“Mind your language,” says Alice. “There’s no need for swearing. The man is just trying to do his job.”