‘Do you want to get to the point, Sean?’ he said.
‘We need to interview both of you. Separately,’ said Sean.
‘What?’ It was Erin. ‘You don’t think we’ve anything to do with Roisin’s disappearance, do you?’
‘Let’s go down to the station,’ said Sean. ‘We’ll chat then.’
‘I’m guessing it’s more than a chat,’ said Kerry. He could feel the old hostility towards the local law enforcement resurrect itself. He spoke to Erin. ‘You don’t have to go with them. They have to formally arrest you to make you go down to the station.’ Then he turned to Sean and the three officers, who were now flanking him. ‘If it’s just a chat, let’s have it now.’
‘Kerry, don’t,’ said Erin. ‘We’ve nothing to hide, let’s go along with them.’ She came round the car and stood beside him, her hand resting on his arm. ‘Please, don’t make a fuss.’
She was right, of course. Kerry took her hand in his and raised it to his lips. ‘Okay.’
Sean stepped forward. ‘Erin, you go in the car with my two colleagues. Kerry, you come with me.’
Kerry felt Erin’s grip tighten on his hand. ‘Just tell the truth,’ she said. ‘You’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘And neither have you,’ said Kerry, before letting her hand fall and making his way to the police car.
Chapter 31
The interview room at the station was no different to any other interview room Kerry had sat in before. In his younger days they were familiar places. Regularly hauled in for many a misdemeanour, only to have his knuckles rapped and then to be released again. Kerry had always known it was his stepfather behind the harsh treatment he received for petty things such as drinking in the park with his friends, or just not being in the right place at the right time. His friends got a ticking off on the spot; Kerry got taken down to the station for a talk.
Despite the seriousness of today’s interview, Kerry was as relaxed as he had ever been. Erin, on the other hand, he suspected was faring less well.
Eventually, Sean Keane and another officer came into the interview room.
‘Am I likely to need a solicitor?’ said Kerry.
‘You’re here of your own free will. You’re not under arrest. We simply want a chat,’ said Sean. He sat down opposite Kerry, resting his hands on the table between them. ‘Do you want a coffee? Tea?’
‘No. I’m good. Can we get on with this? It’s late and kind of messing up my plans for the evening.’
‘Can you confirm exactly when you last saw Roisin Marshall?’
‘I don’t know exactly. Sunday, maybe?’
‘Okay, when did you last have any contact with her?’ said Sean.
‘If I’m being linked to her disappearance, I’d like to know on what grounds.’
‘We’ve got a copy of Roisin’s mobile-phone records. It shows all her calls and text messages, both in and out.’
Kerry shrugged. ‘And …?’ He looked right back at Sean and hoped his poker face wouldn’t let him down.
‘And…it shows a number registered to you,’ said Sean, matching his stare. ‘You and Roisin exchanged text messages on the night of her disappearance. What was that about?’
Kerry thought about refusing to answer. Sean couldn’t demand to see his phone now, not without a warrant or a court order. By the time that was organised, Kerry would be able to wipe the text messages from it. However, if the Guards ever found Roisin’s phone, then they would soon be able to see what was said. He decided to bide his time for now.
‘I can’t remember exactly.’
Sean leaned in. ‘I suggest your memory improves or you could be here a long time.’
The other police officer opened a file he had in his hand. He looked at a few notes and then at Kerry.
‘Seems you have a bit of a past. Known to the Gardai.’ He ran his finger down the sheet of paper. ‘Drunk and disorderly. Affray. Drugs.’
‘That doesn’t make me a murderer,’ said Kerry, sitting up a bit straighter in his seat.
‘Who said anything about murder?’ said the officer.
Kerry bit down the urge to respond. He could see he was only going to dig himself in deeper. Instead, he folded his arms and leant back in the seat. ‘Charge me if you think I’m involved. If not, I’d like to go home now.’
The interview room is sterile and hostile. I’ve never been in one before and can’t help feeling intimidated by the oppressive surroundings. The walls, painted a neutral light grey, reflect the small stream of light coming in through the one high window. I’m sitting on a plastic chair, which reminds me of the chairs at the hospital. In front of me on the laminated table is a plastic disposable cup full of water.