Authors: Rebecca Bradley
17
Informing
someone you believe their child to be dead is one of the most difficult
jobs I ever have to do. Dealing with the bodies is something you can
attempt to detach from. You have to, otherwise you will always be
haunted by the last moments of their lives and it doesn't help anyone.
You have a job to do and you need to do it well. People’s lives are
important. But the grief and pain of those left behind is
heartbreaking. For me, it's temporarily impossible to separate myself
from. The feeling is raw and tangible and I'd be more concerned by
anyone who didn't feel some effect themselves. It was hard but I had to
be strong for George and Anne Green. To tell them the facts as we knew
them. Death is shocking in a child, but a violent death is unimaginable
for a parent to face. Mr Green had clenched his body, holding it all
in. Mrs Green had crumbled, falling in on herself like a pack of cards
touched by the faintest of breezes. The moment Rosie's killer put his
hands around her throat and squeezed the life out of her, he had done
the same to her parents. Clive started the engine and pulled away from
the curb. As we went out of view of the terraced cottage, I put my head
in my hands and allowed myself a moment to feel. A child was dead, her
parents’ lives shattered and as of yet, we were nowhere near knowing
who or why.
I needed some human warmth. Strong arms and comfort. Ethan. I pushed the thought away. This wasn't the time or the place.
“It's hard, I know.” Clive broke into my reverie and I remembered where I was.
Half
an hour later I found myself in a small Italian restaurant, the
Trattoria Rustica next to the city cathedral. Its wooden beams,
brickwork, the occasional waft of warm garlic on a passing plate and
the cosy atmosphere soon helped to relax my mood. Around the
table sat Aaron, Clive, Nima and Michael along with Chris Stewart,
another detective from the team. In front of me was a plate of
Taglietelle and a glass of Southern Comfort on the rocks. The idea of
food hadn't crossed my mind for most of the day and I hadn't considered
I might be hungry, but now I really was. I looked around the
table and saw heavy eyes within friendly faces. I needed some rest but
the couple of drinks I'd had warmed me and mellowed the hardship of the
day. Picking up the glass I knocked back the remainder.
Chris
chewed on his food and spoke through it. “So the Greens are going to
see Rosie tomorrow morning and do the official identification. I'll
drive them.”
“Who's
the official FLO?” The FLO was a family liaison officer assigned to a
family during serious investigations. They would get to know the family
well.
“I am,” Chris continued. “They're struggling to find reasons behind why she went missing. They blame themselves.”
“Which, as we know, often happens,” interjected Michael.
Chris
swallowed his food and continued. “They said they tried to talk to her.
Well Anne did, George doesn't find it easy to have the serious
conversations; he's been more of the silent hand holding type. He left
the talks to Anne. He said Rosie talked more to her mum, so he was
happy for it to be that way, but it was an easy excuse for him. You can
see it eating away at him now.” More food went up on a fork to his
mouth as he continued to talk. “Anne tried, but said Rosie would clam
up. Anne thinks there was a lot of competition amongst the girls
to look good and make an impression. Anne and George didn't like her
wearing make-up for school and Rosie was struggling to fit in with that
level of competitiveness.” I watched as Chris moved his food around his
mouth as he spoke, like a washing machine on a slow cycle. “She clammed
up and shut down to them.”
I raised my hand to attract the attention of the waiter.
“Another Southern Comfort please. Anyone else?”
“A pint please.”
“Make it two.”
“Three.”
“Wine,” requested Nima.
“So she's troubled at school, she's not talking to mum and dad. Who's her closest friend?” I asked.
“I
talked to her friends,” responded Nima. “Caroline Manders was her
friend from infants, through juniors and up to the secondary school.
When we interviewed Caroline she stated it was very recent, Rosie's
behaviour being a bit out of kilter. When Rosie went missing Caroline
found it hard, she was absent from school a lot of the time herself.
Her parents said she wasn't coping and they didn't feel they could send
her in the way she was. It's hit her hard.”
“Will Caroline's mother allow us to talk to her again? We could do with a chat in the morning if possible.”
“They're
pretty protective and Caroline appears to be quite cloistered by them,
but I don't see an issue with that. Give me a minute and I'll call her
mum and let her know you will be dropping by.”
The
drinks arrived as Nima left the table to call Caroline's parents. It
was late and I wasn't sure how happy they would be with a late night
call, but that was the difficulty when a murder investigation crossed
county lines. We usually found we upset a few people. I hoped we could
counter this tomorrow when we spoke with them. I waited until Aaron
picked up his pint and took a slug of my drink, its warmth, comforting.
Nima
returned. “All set up with Caroline's parents. They were a little
reticent at first but said they want to do all they can to help. They
asked if you could be there about eight a.m. as they will be dropping
Caroline off at school about eight-thirty a.m. She's still feeling
fragile after all that's happened to her friend and they want to
maintain some semblance of normalcy for her.”
We
continued to eat our food as we talked about the case in hushed tones
so as to not upset the few other diners present at nearby tables. The
conversation slipped into small talk of family lives and career
aspirations and I felt the weariness wash over me. It was time to
go.
I
drained the rest of my drink and stood. After nods and good nights all
round I departed, leaving Aaron still with his drink in his hand at the
table. Outside I wrapped my scarf around my neck against the bitter
winds and pushed my chin down deep into it, clenching my fists up tight
in my pockets, as I still had no gloves, for the short walk to the
hotel on the Prince of Wales Road.
Breakfast
was hot and greasy, a good enough way to start the day. Aaron’s
usual piercing blue eyes looked lacklustre. I'd pulled my hair back,
tied it in an elastic band and attempted to cover the dark circles and
dull skin with a smattering of foundation.
Though
my phone had some missed calls and a couple of text messages, there had
been nothing from Ethan through the night. It was possible he was busy,
but I didn't like uncertainty.
By
seven-thirty a.m. we were at Bethel Police station. Chris, Nima and
Michael were at their desks. I walked into Clive’s office to discuss
the morning’s actions with him.
“Good morning.” He smiled, his face friendly and open. I was finding he was a man I could work with.
“Morning Clive. Thanks for last night.”
“You're more than welcome. Did you sleep okay in the hotel?”
“Not
bad.” I sat in the chair opposite him crossing my legs at my knees,
work bag on the floor to the side. “Are you happy coming to see
Caroline with me if Aaron and one from your team go to the school to
chat to some of the other kids? If Aaron and I split the tasks we need
to do we can get it done in half the time and then catch each other up
later.” Even though I preferred to do everything myself, I trusted
Aaron and his judgement. Sometimes I wished he would think before he
spoke, but he was a bloody good cop and I was glad to have him on my
team.
“Absolutely. Give me five minutes and we'll head out.”
“Sounds good. One other thing I want to discuss with you though.”
Clive looked across at me, his eyebrows raised. “Okay, what is it?”
“How
would you feel if I were to request one of my officers comes over and
gives you another pair of hands to work on your side of the
investigation as a liaison between the two of us? They would, of
course, work under you, but I think it would be a good way of keeping
the two sides cohesive.” It was a big ask. Clive's team worked well.
Asking to throw an unknown into the mix was a potential problem.
He
relaxed back in his chair. “I see no issue with that. In fact I think
it's a great idea and don't know why I didn't think of it first. Who
will you send?”
“I'd not got that far,” I confessed as I regarded his team through the doorway. It was something I needed to think about.
18
Caroline
Manders’ slim fingers were unable to stay still. She fiddled with her
hair then moved to some imagined mark on the polished wood of the
dining table where we were seated, until she settled on rubbing a stain
I couldn't see from the hem of her school jumper. The house was old and
large. There was a living area as well as the dining room we were in.
From here it was impossible to see the rest of the house, but it had
the feel of an old build with lots more room than modern day builds
offered. It was immaculate with a minimalist feel: beige carpeting and
magnolia walls. A large, overbearing framed photograph of the family
adorned the main wall, taking centre stage. On the adjacent wall was a
print of a Claude Monet painting and these were the only two items in
the dining room other than the table and chairs. The family photo
showed Donovan and Evelyn Manders, Caroline's parents, sat straight on
high backed chairs, with Caroline on the floor between them. The
photograph looked to have been taken by a professional, but it made me
uneasy. I wondered at Caroline's place in the structure of her family
as she sat on the floor at her parents’ feet. It felt cold and detached
and reminded me of a children are seen-but-never-heard era.
Now,
Donovan Manders sat at the head of the table, straight and stiff.
Barely a movement from him, other than the regular blink of his eyes.
He'd been the epitome of polite and courteous when we arrived, but had
said very little since.
I
shifted in my seat and looked at Caroline who was sitting uneasily on
the edge of the covered carver chair at the opposite end of the table
to her father. She was a small girl with large owlish spectacles
perched on a narrow nose, so narrow; I was unsure how she managed to
keep her glasses in place without them sliding straight off her face.
Her
mother fussed with an obvious uncertainty about the circumstances they
found themselves in. Evelyn Manders wanted to protect her daughter and
that protection looked to include a need to protect her from us. She
also knew something bad had happened to Caroline's friend and had told
us they wanted to help. I could see this conflict caused obvious upset
for Evelyn as she flitted from the kitchen to the dining area we were
seated in and back again. First came the cups of tea and then plates of
biscuits and cookies, her stiff, spotless half apron bowed tightly
around her back, creaseless as it hung from her waist. Her hair was
pulled back tight away from her face, which gave a slight impression of
a face lift. She fluttered about and smoothed every surface until I
could bear it no more.
“Mrs Manders, would you like to sit down with us so we can talk to Caroline. It would be really helpful.”
She
brushed the velour of the chair she hadn't long vacated until all
strands seemed to be laying in the same direction again, and sat back
down. Caroline watched silently.
I looked at her now. “Do you know why we are here, Caroline?”
Her mouth moved but it was difficult to make out her response. “About Rosie.”
I lifted my voice, hoping she would mirror me and follow suit. “Yes, she went missing didn't she?”
A faint, “Yes.”
I
leaned forward, resting my elbows on my knees. Clive was holding a
relaxed stance on the other side of the table. “Tell us what Rosie was
like the weeks before she went missing.”
Caroline swallowed and looked at her father who gave a barely perceptible nod.
“She was okay. Maybe a little quieter than usual. She never told me anything.”
“Did she have any other friends she did talk to?” asked Clive.
Caroline and Evelyn turned their heads toward Clive. “No. I don't think so anyway. I never saw her with anyone.”
“Did she have anything new you had never seen before, Caroline?” I asked, wondering about gifts from someone new in her life.
Another glance at her father, another nod. Of encouragement? A speck of something removed from the table by Evelyn.
“I
didn't see anything and she never showed me anything.” She rubbed at
the invisible mark on her jumper, her fingers working at the hemline,
rubbing and rubbing.
It was time to stop. “It's OK, Caroline. Thank you for talking to us.”
Evelyn Manders jumped up before I had chance to move.
“Thank
you for your time, Mr and Mrs Manders, we appreciate it.” I stood,
pulling my business card out of my pocket. “If Caroline thinks of
anything else, or if you or your husband can think of anything, please
do give us a call, no matter how small or insignificant you think it
is.”
Donovan
Manders unfurled his tall frame from the chair, stepped forward and
took the card proffered to his wife from my hand. He made a sharp sight
in his well-cut dark grey suit. He leaned down, picking up the
briefcase at the side of his chair. “Thank you for your considerate
manner Detective Inspector. It's been a difficult time for Caroline and
we were cautious about allowing further questioning, but I am happy we
could help.”
It sounded rather like a dismissal. I smiled. “As I said, if anything comes to mind, please call.”
Evelyn
Manders, removed the plate of cookies from the table and, head down,
took them into the kitchen where she busied herself putting them away.
Clive walked around the table, placed a hand on Caroline's shoulder and
smiled.
“Give us a call if you need anything.”
Donovan
Manders strode out of the dining room down the hallway, past the
doorway to what I presumed was the living room and opened the front
door. His look direct.
Digging into my trouser pocket I removed another work card and handed it to Caroline.
“This has my mobile number on. If you need me, call.”
She
nodded, putting the card in her trouser pocket, then went about
cleaning the hem of her jumper. We took our cue and left the family to
their business.
Before
Aaron and I headed back to the city we debriefed the meetings we'd had.
Clive and I spoke about the visit with the Manders, while Aaron and
Michael talked about the school visit. I voiced my concerns that
Caroline could be hiding something from us. “She was pretty closed and
needed consent from her father before she spoke. There seemed to be a
tight rein about her this morning. It could of course be genuine
concern for her well-being and the effects something like this will
have on her, but I got a strange feeling from the home and the family.
Her body language was edgy.”
Clive
nodded. “Something was definitely up, with Caroline and her mum. Did
you see how fast Evelyn got up to let us out? It reminded me of a
jack-in-the-box I got as a kid.”
“She
was certainly unsettled with our presence.” I pushed a loose strand of
hair out of my eyes as I tried to read my notes. “We need to contact
the school again and make sure she's okay and no major welfare issues
come up. How about you Aaron? Any joy with any of her other friends,
enemies, school teachers etc.?”
“Pretty
much the same as we've already heard. She was a good girl. Things
started to go a bit awry without people understanding why, but no one
took the time to find out what was happening and then next thing, she's
gone. The one conversation of interest though was with the school
nurse, Liz Turney. She stated Rosie had come in and asked for a
contraceptive advice chat. These can be held within school in
confidence and they aren't obliged to tell parents.”
“Great.
Kids are being given the ability to have sex, with apparent adult
consent and it's acceptable to keep this info from the parents. Shall
we ask Rosie's parents how they feel about that?” It wasn't so much a
question, more of a rant. “Great confidentiality. Let’s give the kids
their own lives attitude and look where it leads us, picking up dead
children from behind restaurant waste bins in the middle of the fucking
night. Do we get to see the records from the visit or is it still
confidential?”
“Liz
is gathering the papers this morning and will email them over to us
later today,” replied Aaron, ignoring the verbal annoyance I had
relieved myself of.
“I'm
sorry, I get so frustrated by people who fail to see the consequences,
the mess we have to pick up. And I hate it when it's kids.”
Clive
nodded “I know, don't worry. We'll get statements from all the kids who
were friends with her and noticed a change. Teachers the same. And
we'll get a medical authorisation form signed for Rosie's GP and get
her notes and again, send them over to you. I'll also get the crime
scene techs to go through Rosie's bedroom and let you know if anything
comes of it.”
“Thanks
Clive. We need to head back; I appreciate your help on this one and
will speak with you again soon.” Straightening the papers I had been
sifting through I banged the edge of the file against the table, then
smoothed down my trousers as I stood. I felt as though I hadn't slept
for two days and I imagined I pretty much looked that way. I needed to
get home and stand under my shower for a very long time. First
though, I knew I had to meet Rosie's parents following the
identification and pop in to the mortuary to see if Jack was free to
attend a briefing in the morning. It was always good to get everyone
involved in the investigation together and see what they brought to the
table. Making decisions without knowing what everyone knew down to the
small details was a fool’s game.