‘Trust me, sir,’ insisted Brook to a disbelieving Charlton. ‘Those last three pictures were faked.’
‘Why would they fake them?’ asked Noble.
‘They want people to think they’re dead to increase media attention,’ explained Brook. ‘That tells us they’re alive. You’re forgetting. .’
‘. . what we see is but a dream? No, Inspector, we’re not,’ said Charlton. ‘But I want more than inverted logic to tell me they’re still alive.’
‘Look at the carpet next to Adele’s head.’ Brook pointed to the frozen image on the screen.
‘What about it?’
‘It’s on the floor in Alice Kennedy’s living room.’ Brook looked at Noble. ‘John?’
Noble narrowed his eyes at the screen. ‘You’re right.’
‘So what?’ argued Charlton. ‘So they were killed there.’
‘And their bodies spirited away in a van that loaded them up without a single witness noticing,’ replied Brook. ‘No, sir, these shots are faked. They must have done it before they left the house. Remember the talcum powder SOCO found on the living-room carpet?’
‘Yes,’ replied Charlton doubtfully.
‘They rubbed it on their face and hands and tried to play dead.’ Noble smiled.
‘Exactly,’ said Brook.
‘That only means they were alive at the Kennedy house,’ argued Noble. ‘They could still be dead.’
‘True, but then why show us fake pictures? If they’re dead, why not show us the real thing? Deity has had no qualms so far about broadcasting violence and death.’
‘You got me there.’ Noble nodded.
‘So what do we tell the press and TV?’ asked Charlton. ‘Do we denounce these pictures as fakes?’
‘No. That might provoke a reaction,’ retorted Brook.
‘You talk as though Deity is an entity, a being with power over these kids.’
‘Somebody’s got a hold over them,’ said Brook. ‘Look how Wilson was manipulated — Jake McKenzie too. If we denounce these pictures as fakes, whoever’s behind this might feel compelled to come up with the real thing.’
‘We have to say something, if only to the parents,’ said Charlton.
‘We tell them that we’re accepting nothing at face value and they shouldn’t either. That goes for our investigation and how we respond to the media.’
‘I hope you know what you’re doing, Brook,’ said Charlton.
Noble rang off. ‘Alice Kennedy.’
‘She recognised Kyle’s voice in the broadcast?’ ventured Brook.
Noble nodded. ‘Bye bye Wilson.’
‘It doesn’t mean Kyle was shooting the film or spoke to Wilson as he drowned. It could’ve been recorded at any time in a completely different context and added later.’
‘I told her. The technicians are on it.’
‘How’s she holding up?’
‘Okay. Patel’s with her.’
‘What can I do for you, Len?’
Poole looked up from the hard chair. He held Brook’s eye for a moment before breaking into a grin and looking round the room. ‘I can see why people crack up in these places,’ he said. ‘They’re not exactly welcoming.’
‘That’s the idea.’ Brook moved from the door to sit at the table opposite Poole. ‘DS Noble’s bringing us tea, if that’ll help.’
‘A cigarette would help more. If you’ve got one.’
Brook smiled faintly. The guilty smoked like laboratory beagles in the Interview Rooms. ‘I will have when DS Noble gets here. I didn’t know you smoked.’
‘Just the occasional one when I’m on my own. When you’ve spent a lifetime dealing in death. .’
‘At least I won’t need to explain the health risks to you,’ observed Brook.
Poole laughed. ‘No. I’ve seen a few Grow Bags in my time. That’s what we used to call heavily tarred lungs in my day,’ he explained. ‘Though tumours were the only things that grew there.’
‘You sound like you miss it, Len.’
‘Sometimes I do, but only because it was a part of me when I was younger. That’s what nostalgia is really.’
‘A desire to be young again?’
‘Young, innocent, carefree.’
‘It’s a myth, Len. Kyle’s predicament should tell you that much.’
Poole lowered his head. ‘I suppose.’
Noble entered carrying a tray of plastic cups and set them down. ‘No sugar, sorry.’
‘I’m sweet enough.’ Poole grinned. Neither officer cracked a smile.
‘So what’s a life of indolence like?’ asked Brook.
‘Can’t complain,’ answered Poole. ‘I’ve got a decent pension and Eileen left me well looked after, God rest her soul.’
‘Good to be back in Derby?’ asked Brook innocently. ‘Seeing old friends.’
Poole paused and took a sip of tea. ‘It’s okay. I’m only here until Kyle finishes college and Alice sells the house. Then it’s back to Chester.’
‘Back to your voluntary work,’ said Noble.
Poole stiffened. ‘Voluntary work?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ said Noble without a trace of apology in his voice. ‘I thought I read somewhere that you worked with orphans.’ He smiled politely to drive up the temperature. Just wait, Brook had always taught him. The guilty abhorred silence — they always talked through it, not about their guilt, not at first, but about anything that came into their heads. Eventually, if you were prepared to wait long enough, the drivel ran out and the only thing left to talk about was their confession.
‘Yvette,’ said Poole, nodding, as though the link were selfevident. Then he hardened his features. He wasn’t here to defend himself when attack would be the better foot forward. After all, he was a professional, a well-respected man, a man with qualifications and expertise, a man with a certain standing in the community and, best of all, though he prided himself on never being blase about it, he had money. ‘I don’t know what she’s been telling you, Inspector, but there’s something I think you need to know about that woman.’
‘Yvette?’ asked Brook.
‘She’s delusional, Inspector — a complete fantasist. It’s tragic really, but not atypical for an orphan to develop these fantasies.’
‘And what sort of fantasy would Miss Thomson want to tell us?’ asked Noble.
‘I don’t know why I’m even mentioning this,’ said Poole, looking at the older detective for understanding.
‘Sure you do,’ replied Brook.
Poole briefly put his head in his hands then sat straight and stared defiantly back at his inquisitors. ‘Yvette thinks that she and I have a relationship — a sexual relationship.’
Brook and Noble’s expressions didn’t change. They gazed evenly at Poole, declining to give him a hint of their reaction.
‘And do you?’ asked Brook finally.
Poole did his best to look Brook in the eye. ‘No.’
‘And have you ever had such a relationship?’ asked Brook.
‘How dare you ask me that!’ shouted Poole.
‘How dare I?’ Brook shouted back, standing up and knocking over his chair. ‘I didn’t ask to see you. You came to us, and if you want to sit there playing games and looking coy, you can leave now. I’m not here to whitewash your version of history. I’ve got four young people to find and I don’t want my time wasted.’ Brook made to leave and beckoned Noble to join him with a flick of his head.
‘Inspector,’ said Poole. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right.’ Brook and Noble stood frozen by the door. ‘Please sit down.’
Brook, apparently reluctantly, moved back to pick up his chair. Noble followed suit, trying to hide his amusement behind a hand. Brook’s ‘Bad Cop’ was a rare sight and all the more convincing for it.
‘We’re listening.’
‘I’m worried. Yvette — she’s unstable. I’m afraid she might do something to hurt me or even Alice.’
Brook hid his surprise well. He wished he could turn on the tape recorder but Poole was not under arrest or caution. ‘Why would you think that?’
‘Because you were right. I did have a sexual relationship with her once.’
‘When?’
‘A long time ago.’
‘When?’
Poole knew better than to answer the question. ‘You should’ve seen her, Inspector. You think she’s pretty now.’ He shook his head. ‘Boy, she was something back then. She knew all the tricks. I was putty in her hands.’
‘Where did you first meet her?’
Poole laughed. ‘I knew as soon as Kyle disappeared that it would come to this.’
‘What?’
‘That you’d do background checks, that you’d discover Yvette and I knew each other. And from where.’
‘I’d still prefer you tell us.’
‘St Asaph’s School for Boys and Girls. It was an orphanage a few miles from Chester. I joined the Board of Trustees.’
‘How old was she when you met her?’
‘She was fourteen. Her mother had died. But I deny anything untoward took place at the orphanage.’
‘So would I, in your shoes. Nevertheless, while Yvette was in care, she got pregnant and gave birth to Russell at the age of fifteen.’
Poole’s tone became almost haughty. ‘Well, I’m not the father, Inspector. Like I said, nothing improper happened between us.’
‘Was it your decision to let Yvette keep the baby at the orphanage?’
Poole hesitated. ‘Partly.’
‘How would that work?’
‘We had suitable family quarters away from the rest of the residents. It seemed. . unnecessary to separate mother and child.’
‘Especially if you were over a barrel and had to do as you were told,’ sneered Noble.
‘I’m not the father,’ insisted Poole. ‘How many times?’
‘You can prove that?’ asked Noble.
‘I don’t need proof. You can’t tie me to unlawful sexual intercourse because it never happened. It would be the word of a deranged young girl against mine.’
Brook’s eyes narrowed. His show of temper had thrown Poole off-balance and loosened his tongue but the expathologist was smart enough to avoid crowing about DNA tests.
‘So you don’t have proof,’ persisted Brook.
Poole looked away. ‘I told you. I don’t need it.’
‘If we find out which company you used to test your DNA against Russell Thomson’s, all the denials in the world won’t wash,’ said Brook quietly. ‘Even if there wasn’t a match, the fact that you sought a professional judgement is damning enough.’
Poole looked puzzled for a second then broke into a wide grin. ‘Good luck making that case, Inspector,’ he said, almost laughing now. Brook was wrong-footed for the first time.
‘If you’re not the father, who is?’ asked Noble.
‘Take your pick,’ said Poole. ‘Yvette did. She could string anyone along. All the boys lusted after her at St Asaph’s. You’ve seen her. She must have given you two the treatment. She always does.’ Brook stared back at Poole while Noble shuffled uncomfortably on his seat. Poole grinned again. It was an unpleasant sight. ‘I see she did, Sergeant. Did she come over all vulnerable? Did she make you feel strong and masterful?’ Noble made to stand but was halted by Brook’s voice.
‘Then there’s the money.’
‘Money?’
‘The money you used to set her up.’
Poole shrugged. ‘I could deny it, but why would I? I felt sorry for the girl. I helped her out when she left the orphanage. I could afford it.’
‘And that’s when the sexual relationship started?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did your wife know?’
‘No, thank God.’
‘And Alice?’
Poole just shook his head.
‘And now?’ asked Brook.
Poole sighed. ‘Now I’m getting married again, I’ve decided to turn off the tap. She can make her own way in the world. She won’t have any trouble finding another benefactor.’
‘But she doesn’t see it that way.’
‘She thinks I owe her. I move and she follows. Then she asks for money.’
‘Which you gave her willingly for eighteen years.’
‘I told you, I felt sorry for her. And I could afford it.’
‘What changed?’
Poole became evasive. ‘I just said. I’m getting married. I decided — enough is enough.’
‘And you’re worried she might take it badly and come after you, spouting her lies.’
‘Hell hath no fury. .’ Poole shrugged.
‘Did she threaten you?’
‘Not exactly. But with this lad drowning. .’
‘Wilson Woodrow!’ exclaimed Brook. ‘You think she had something to do with that?’
‘It was a suicide,’ added Noble. ‘We have it on film.’ Noble knew he’d said the wrong thing almost at once. Brook’s imperceptible glance in his direction spoke volumes.
‘Maybe not then,’ admitted Poole. ‘But this Wilson — the lad who drowned — he was always pestering her, trying to get into her bed. He may even have succeeded, for all I know.’
‘Yet you still rang her this morning after Sergeant Grey tipped you off?’
Poole hesitated. ‘I didn’t ring her,’ he said firmly.
‘But Grey rang you.’
Poole picked his words carefully. ‘He’s a friend. He thought it might be Kyle’s body. He thought I ought to know.’
‘But you didn’t think Alice ought to know.’
‘Pardon?’
‘You rang Yvette in the early morning to tell her we’d found a young man’s body, maybe Russell’s body, maybe Kyle’s body, you had no way of knowing. .’
‘I told you-’
‘. . but you didn’t see fit to tell Kyle’s mother,’ pressed Brook.
‘It wasn’t Kyle.’
‘You didn’t know that.’
Poole took a deep breath. ‘I didn’t want to alarm Alice. She’s sensitive.’
‘And Yvette isn’t.’
‘Only to her own needs.’
‘You think she didn’t care that her own son might have drowned?’ said Noble. ‘She was there in a shot.’
Poole stared back, mute.
Brook drained his tea. ‘When we check the call you made to Yvette. .’
‘I told you,’ answered Poole confidently. ‘I didn’t ring her. Go ahead and check. I’ve got nothing to hide.’
Brook smiled his understanding. ‘No, you didn’t need to ring her, did you? When Grey rang you, you were already there, at her house. In her bed.’
Poole stared straight ahead. When Brook and Noble wouldn’t break their gaze, he sighed. ‘I felt sorry for her.’
Noble bristled and his fists clenched. ‘You snivelling-’
‘John.’
‘She can’t be alone, Sergeant,’ said Poole. ‘Believe me. It kills her. Since the orphanage, she’s always. .’ He hung his head. Noble’s breathing slowed. A moment later, Poole looked up. ‘About that cigarette.’
Noble reluctantly pulled out his pack and offered it round. There was silence as each lit up, appreciating the temporary kinship of tobacco.
‘Does Alice have to know?’ said Poole finally.
‘Oh, I think Alice already knows what she’s getting into without our input,’ replied Brook.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It means, like Yvette, she knows the basis of your relationship and what it makes her.’
Poole’s face betrayed his fury. ‘I don’t think there’s any need for that!’
‘Did money change hands?’ asked Brook, ignoring Poole’s indignation.
‘Money?’
‘Grey. Did you pay for the heads-up?’
‘Not. .’ Poole tightened his lips around the rest of the sentence.
‘Not yet.’ Brook took a long pull on his cigarette. ‘Let me speak plainly, Len. Sergeant Grey is no friend of mine. He’s a time-serving dinosaur and has no place in a modern Force. However, this job does something to people and he may once have been a decent officer. So, if he’s a friend of yours, can I suggest, for the sake of his pension, that you never mention even the promise of money changing hands again?’
Poole nodded and stood to leave.
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ve said my piece.’
‘Then it’s our turn. Tell me about Russell.’
Poole reluctantly sat back down. ‘I hardly know him and that’s the truth, Inspector. When he was two or three I saw him quite often when Yvette moved to Chester. He was a cheerful little chap if a bit shy. When he got to five or six and started school, I barely ever saw him.’
‘Because that’s the time you met your wife.’
‘I’d already moved to Uttoxeter, met Eileen and we got married.’
‘But Yvette still followed.’
‘Yes. But I hardly ever saw her unless I ran into her in the town by accident. I was working in Derby, see. In 2003 we moved back to North Wales. Yvette followed and I’d give her help getting set up, but they couldn’t settle in one place because of Russell’s problems.’
‘The bullying?’
‘That’s right.’
‘And when you moved back here six months ago, you set Yvette up again.’
‘I didn’t even know she was here, believe me. Do you think I would have put her in a house so close to Alice, and let Russell attend the same college as my future stepson? I had no idea, until three months ago when she turned up on my doorstep asking for money — that’s the truth.’
‘Which doorstep?’
‘Not Alice’s, thank God. The house I’m renting in Station Road.’
‘So she found you and started blackmailing you again.’
Poole stiffened. ‘I told you. I’m not Russell’s father. It wasn’t blackmail, I — ’
‘- felt sorry for her,’ finished Brook sarcastically. ‘Tell me, did you get Russell’s DNA from his toothbrush? It was missing when we processed Yvette’s house.’
Poole smiled. His smugness had returned. ‘I didn’t steal Russell’s toothbrush. The lad must have taken it with him.’
Brook gazed at Poole, choosing his words. ‘What have you got on Yvette?’
Poole sneered at Brook. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Yes, you do. Your relationship with Yvette is tawdry and exploitative. And whether Russell is your son or not, Yvette has every reason to shout about you from the rooftops, especially if you’ve stopped paying for her silence. But has she done that? No. Has she spoken to Alice? No. She didn’t even admit to us that you’d told her about the body in the river. But that’s not the worst of it. The fact she’s prepared to sleep with you without being paid. .’
‘How dare you!’
‘Don’t bother. You say she’s unstable but I say she knows exactly what she has to do to survive. That’s why you’re worried, isn’t it? You know something about her that’s keeping her in line but that knowledge also makes you a target. What is it?’
‘Inspector, you’re barking up the wrong tree,’ Poole told him.
‘Is it something to do with Yvette having no photographs of her son?’
Poole bristled, unable to look at Brook. ‘I wouldn’t know about that. She said they got lost in the move.’
‘So you asked her about that as well?’
Poole glared back at Brook and stood to leave. ‘Goodbye, Inspector.’
‘What do you think?’ asked Noble, back in the Incident Room.
‘I think Len is a very easy read,’ replied Brook, firing up his computer.
‘Think he’s lying about when he started having sex with Yvette?’
‘Wouldn’t you, if you exploited a fourteenor fifteen-yearold girl in your care?’
‘If only we could get a DNA comparison between Len and Russell.’
‘That’s what worries me, John. He was too confident on that score. I think he was telling the truth.’
‘About not being Russell’s father?’
‘About believing he’s not Russell’s father.’
‘Then why support Yvette financially all these years?’
Brook shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Guilt maybe. Can you cue up the last broadcast for me? There’s something I want to see.’
DC Cooper came in at that moment and dropped a large envelope on Brook’s desk. ‘One enlarged photograph of Russell Thomson in his bedroom.’
Brook thanked him and absentmindedly pulled it from the envelope. It showed Russell’s face in close-up but in no greater detail, but Brook wasn’t interested in that. He took out a magnifying glass and looked again, holding the lens against the background by Russell’s left ear.
‘What is it?’
‘This picture. Behind Russell’s head there’s a piece of a film poster. I think it’s the missing one. Can you read that?’
‘A-N-D something, something R-A-O-H-S,’ read Noble.
Brook wrote it out. ‘I need one of those crossword solvers.’
‘What about Google? Type the first word and see what it suggests.’
‘But what if AND is also the end of a word?’
‘Then guess. Hand, sand, land, band.’
Brook tried HAND and various permutations of smaller words like ‘in the’ and ‘of the’ but was offered nothing that created a match with the end word. He tried again with SAND but came up blank again.
Noble started the recording of that afternoon’s Deity broadcast. ‘Sir.’
Brook closed his laptop and looked up at the screen as the first newspaper flashed up its sombre headline — bullied girl takes overdose. A moment later, Brook pointed at the screen.
‘There. Pause it.’
‘UNKNOWN BOY HANGS HIMSELF,’ read Noble.
‘Right. The Denbigh Examiner,’ said Brook, making a note. He skimmed what he could read of the story but it was just an expanded version of the headline.
‘Unknown,’ said Noble. ‘That’s pretty unusual in this day and age.’
‘For a teenager anyway,’ added Cooper. ‘No parents? No dental?’
‘Obviously not.’
‘An orphan then,’ said Noble. He looked up excitedly at Brook. ‘St Asaph’s.’
Brook smiled. ‘Just a few miles away. Okay, move it on. Stop.’
Noble halted the film at the picture of the youngster hanging, neck snapped.
‘Pretty gruesome for a local paper,’ said Cooper.
Brook nodded. ‘That’s what struck me. They normally show them alive and well.’
Noble chewed the inside of his lip. ‘To be fair, it’s not actually in the local rag. It’s just a random photograph on its own. I don’t see a caption, or any text.’
‘Good spot,’ said Brook. ‘It’s not from the Denbigh Examiner. But it’s been placed next to it so we unconsciously accept it as part of the package. It doesn’t belong.’
‘You think someone from Deity has shuffled this picture into the pack,’ said Cooper.
‘I do.’
‘Why?’
‘To tell us this boy’s death means something, maybe,’ said Noble.
‘I think so,’ said Brook. ‘I think we need to speak to the local police in Denbigh. This looks like a Scene of Crime photograph to me.’
‘The local paper wouldn’t have access to SOCO pictures,’ said Noble.
‘And they wouldn’t print them if they did,’ said Cooper.
‘Agreed. I only said it looked like a SOCO picture,’ said Brook. ‘But if it isn’t, somebody else has taken this at the scene.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning Wilson Woodrow may be the latest in a long line.’
‘What do you want? I’ve done nothing wrong.’
Brook smiled at Jake and sat down at the side of his bed, Noble on the other. I’ve not done nothing was the default response. Jake looked pale and washed-out; he scratched at the tube feeding saline solution into his arm.
‘How are you feeling?’
Jake looked sullenly at the crisp white cotton of his top sheet. ‘Where’s my mum?’
‘She’s taking a break. You gave her quite a shock.’
‘I suppose. Do they know what happened?’ Jake was unable to meet their eyes.
Brook and Noble exchanged a glance. ‘You took an overdose of your mum’s sleeping pills, Jake. They had to pump your stomach.’
Jake made a pathetic attempt to fly his version of events, shaking his head in mock disbelief. ‘I thought they were aspirins.’ He looked up at Brook. ‘I had a headache.’
‘Must have been some headache to take twenty tablets,’ he answered.
‘It’s a good job the squad car called or we wouldn’t be talking,’ chipped in Noble. Jake said nothing.
‘Why would you try to kill yourself, Jake?’
‘Kill myself? Are you tripping?’
‘Don’t waste our time,’ said Noble. ‘We can put you under arrest right here.’
‘I want my mum. Fetch my mum.’
‘You’re eighteen, Jake,’ said Noble. ‘We can speak to you without her permission.’
‘Actually, Sergeant, I don’t mind if Mrs McKenzie sits in while we talk to Jake about his relationship with Kyle.’ Brook rose to fetch her.
‘No!’ retorted Jake sharply, raising his unattached hand. ‘Don’t. It’s okay. I want to help.’
‘Good.’ Brook smiled and read from his notes. ‘I hate you, Jake. I hope you’re ashamed of yourself. You betrayed me when I needed you most.’ Jake looked steadfastly at the sheet. Brook placed the printout from T-mobile in his hands. ‘You received that text this morning. It’s from Kyle Kennedy’s mobile number.’
‘You’ve got my phone?’
‘Your computer too. We have a warrant.’
Jake was silent.
‘This is the first direct contact from one of our missing students since they disappeared eight days ago. And of all the people Kyle could have contacted, he contacted you, Jake. Why?’
‘Can I have a drink of water?’
Brook poured him a cupful from a nearby jug. ‘According to my information, Kyle Kennedy also rang you on his mobile, the night before his eighteenth-birthday party — the night before he disappeared.’
Jake took a sip of water. ‘Sounds right.’
‘What time was it?’
Jake became exasperated. ‘You’ve got my phone. Why don’t you tell me?’
‘Because we need you to get your memory of that night working,’ said Noble.
Jake cast around, thinking. ‘About nine o’clock, I think.’
Brook nodded. ‘Close enough.’
‘Well, then.’
‘Why did he ring you?’
Jake was silent for a moment. ‘He wanted to invite me to his party and to thank me.’
‘Thank you for what?’
‘Somebody at college went for him. I stepped in.’
‘You’re referring to Wilson Woodrow,’ said Brook.
‘Yes. He started picking on Kyle in Media Studies. That smarmy git Rifkind wasn’t going to do anything so I got in between them and broke it up.’
‘That was good of you.’
Jake shrugged. ‘I don’t like bullies.’
‘Really. So you don’t like Wilson Woodrow.’
‘No. He’s a sherm.’
Present tense. Brook and Noble exchanged a glance. ‘Sherm?’
‘A knobhead to you.’
‘So what did Kyle say exactly?’ asked Brook softly.
Jake smiled. ‘Thank you,’ he replied, as though talking to an idiot.
‘And that was it? He thanked you and then less than an hour later — half a mile from your home — you just happened to wander past at the exact time Kyle was being assaulted by Wilson.’ Jake became tight-lipped. ‘You have seen the assault on the internet, I take it?’
‘Who hasn’t?’
Brook waited. Silence was the heaviest pressure. ‘According to Mrs Kennedy, Kyle left her house before nine that night. He was carrying a poster and a CD. He told his mum they were for a friend.’ Still Jake was silent. ‘When we searched Kyle’s room after he disappeared, we discovered what a huge fan of The Smiths he is — posters all over his walls, every CD they ever released.’ Brook paused to look up from his notes. ‘If we searched your room. .’
‘He came round.’
‘To your house?’
‘Yes. In fact, when he phoned me, he was already outside.’
‘Why didn’t he just knock on the door?’
Jake shrugged. ‘Guess he knew my dad hates faggots.’
Brook nodded and looked into Jake’s eyes. The teenager turned away.
‘What was he wearing?’ asked Noble.
‘Jeans — and he had his G-STAR hoodie on. He never took it off.’
‘What colour?’
‘Blue.’
‘So you went out to speak to him?’
‘Yes, and he gave me the poster and a CD he’d burned as a thank you.’
‘What was it?’
‘The Smiths. Like you said — Kyle was nuts about them.’
‘Was?’ queried Noble. ‘You think he’s dead?’ Jake looked up. ‘I don’t know.’
‘And the poster?’
‘It was the lead singer — Morrissey.’
‘You know Morrissey is a gay icon?’
‘I guess,’ answered Jake.
‘Did you know Kyle was gay?’ asked Noble.
Jake started laughing. It subsided quickly. ‘Yes.’
‘Is that why Wilson bullied him?’
‘That sh- knobhead doesn’t need a reason.’
Brook and Noble exchanged another glance. Jake was either being very clever or he honestly didn’t yet know Wilson’s body had been discovered that morning.
‘These gifts,’ said Brook. ‘Do you still have them?’
Jake nodded.
‘How long were you talking outside your house?’
‘About five minutes. No more.’
‘And did Kyle say anything other than to thank you and invite you to his party?’
‘No.’ Jake decided against mentioning the ten-ton truck.
‘Then what?’
‘Then I went back in.’
‘You went back in? But forty minutes later. .’
‘I listened to the CD and decided I didn’t like it so I went looking for him to give it back. I was on the way to his house. .’ He shrugged as though the rest was obvious.
‘And when you found him, Wilson and his friends were beating him up.’
‘Yes.’
‘This time you didn’t step in.’
‘There was no need. Wilson stopped when he saw me.’
‘And Kyle came over to you.’
‘Yes.’
‘Then what?’
When Jake spoke his voice was barely audible. ‘I threw it on the ground.’
‘What?’
‘The CD.’
‘What did Kyle say to that?’ No reply but Jake’s lip began to quiver. ‘Was he upset?’
‘Yes.’
Brook nodded. ‘You betrayed me when I needed you most. Is that what the text was referring to?’
Jake looked at Brook. There were tears in his eyes. ‘Looks like it.’
‘Then he walked back over to Wilson.’
‘You’ve seen the film.’
‘Then Wilson knocked him out.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘Who?’
‘Wilson.’
Jake laughed bitterly, through the tears. ‘After he hit Kyle, he got all self-righteous. He said Kyle liked the violence and that disgusted him, like the fat fucker and his thick crew were offended by having to smack him around, like Kyle was a pervert and they’d been forced to hit him.’ Jake let out a quivering sigh. ‘Then Wilson left. Said he was going to get laid to get the gayness out of his head.’
‘Wilson said that?’ Brook looked up at Noble. ‘Did he say where?’
‘No. It was just talk anyway. That fat sherm couldn’t get laid if he was a carpet.’
‘Then what?’ said Brook.
‘Then I tried to help Kyle. I went to get water from the stream.’
‘But he ran off into the fields.’
‘Yes.’
‘Did he say anything?’
‘He said he hated me.’
Brook studied Jake. ‘But you know that wasn’t true, don’t you?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A gay young man giving you presents. That tells me quite a lot.’
‘Like what?’
‘His mum told us Kyle was in love,’ chipped in Noble. There was silence for several minutes.
‘Kyle isn’t an active homosexual, according to Mrs Kennedy. He has crushes on people from afar. Do you think he could have been in love with you?’ asked Brook finally.
Jake looked up in confusion then returned his eyes to the bed. He opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it.
‘Okay. Was that the last time you saw Kyle?’ asked Brook. Jake didn’t answer.
‘Well, was it?’
‘To speak to, yes.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I saw him the next night.’
‘Did you!’ exclaimed Brook. ‘What about Wilson? Was that the last time you saw him?’
Jake’s brow furrowed in confusion. ‘Actually, yes.’
‘You didn’t follow Kyle into the fields?’
‘No.’
‘And you didn’t go after Wilson?’
‘No, why would I?’
‘To exact revenge for the attack on your friend,’ offered Noble.
‘I picked up the CD and went home. End of.’ Jake finished his water and wiped his mouth.
Brook gazed at Jake. ‘So you did go.’
‘Go where?’
‘To the party.’
Jake looked away. ‘I told you before, no.’
‘But if you saw Kyle, that wasn’t true, was it?’ No reply. ‘You stood at the same lamp-post, the one I first saw you under when we searched Kyle’s room. You were seen.’
Jake looked glassy-eyed into the distance. ‘I went to the house. I stood under the streetlight — that’s true. I wasn’t sure whether to go in. After I’d thrown his gift back in his face. .’
‘Then why go at all?’
‘I’d bought him a present. To say sorry.’
‘Picnic at Hanging Rock?’
‘Yes. We’d seen some of it in Media Studies that day. He watched it all with the others. It blew Kyle away. He wrote a review of it the same day and gave that to me as well.’
‘Where is it?’
‘On my computer.’
‘And the DVD?’
‘I’ve still got it. We were watching it the day you came into Media Studies. Rusty brought it the previous week but he hadn’t turned up.’
‘So what happened? Did Kyle throw your gift back in your face?’
‘No, nothing like that.’
‘What then?’
‘I couldn’t go in so I left,’ shouted Jake. There was an edge of hysteria in his voice.
‘You didn’t go in the house?’
‘No.’
‘But you’d bought Kyle a present. You went all the way to his house. Why couldn’t you go in?’
Jake clenched a fist. ‘I tried to go in. I tried but I couldn’t hear anything — no music, no talking — so I went round the side of the house to see what was going on. There was a crack in the curtain, I could see into the living room.’
‘What did you see?’
‘They were playing some weird game.’
Brook looked up at Noble. ‘Game? What game?’
‘Becky and Adele were on the floor. Their faces were white and they were just lying there. They looked like they were dead and Kyle was filming them with Rusty’s camcorder.’
‘Kyle was doing the filming? What about Russell?’
‘I didn’t see Rusty.’