Murphy leaned back, catching Rossi’s eye. ‘I’m sure. Do you know why we wanted to talk to you?’
‘You think I’ve got something to do with Donna being … well, you know.’
‘We’re not suggesting anything. We just have a few questions.’
Murphy had relented to Rossi’s suggestion that they speak to Will Ryder at his flat. He’d wanted to bring him down to the station, get him in an interview room, and question him there. They were sitting in the small living room, trying to ignore the abundance of takeaway cartons strewn about, and the smell of weed in the air.
‘Okay,’ Will said, ‘fire away.’
‘Did you and Donna get along?’
‘Didn’t really know her all that well. She was just Bec’s flatmate. Didn’t have much to do with her.’
‘Did you talk much?’
Will fidgeted with his earlobe. ‘Not really.’
‘No arguments or anything?’
Will stopped fidgeting. A look passed across his face which Murphy couldn’t be sure was guilt or confusion.
‘Not that I remember. Maybe once or twice if we made too much noise.’
‘How about in the library at uni a couple of weeks ago?’
That got his attention. His eyes darted about, looking for an exit. Murphy tried to keep a smile from breaking out. This was going the way he wanted. Nice easy solution.
‘Yeah, we had a little conversation about something.’
‘What was that about then?’
Long pause. Will began pulling at a thread on his grey joggers. Ran a hand over his shaved head.
‘If I tell you something, you won’t say anything to Bec will you?’
Murphy’s hand wavered in the air. Maybe, maybe not.
Will sighed, looked to the ceiling. ‘Okay, it was a one-off. I don’t want you thinking I do this sort of thing all the time. I was out in town a few weeks back. Got absolutely wrecked, and kissed some random girl. Donna saw it happen. Didn’t even know she was there. Pulled me up about it and I had to practically beg her to not say anything.’
‘And she didn’t?’
Will smirked. ‘Do you think I’d still be here if she had? Bec would have thrown me out on my arse. Doesn’t like cheaters.’
Murphy looked over at Rossi. Couldn’t read her expression. ‘So you just left it at that then?’
‘Yeah. Thought she was going to say something eventually, but just hoped she’d listened to me. I told her how upset Bec would be if she found out, played that emotional stuff, you know. Promised it was a slip, just the drink, never happen again. She seemed to accept that. Doesn’t matter now of course.’
‘Are you sure that’s all? You never saw her there again, argued?’
‘Yeah,’ Will replied, sitting forward off the settee, ‘that’s it. Look, I’ve got nothing to do with what happened to her. You’ve got to believe that.’
Murphy sighed, checked his watch. ‘That’ll be all for now. We’ll probably want to speak to you again, okay?’
Will looked relieved, which pissed off Murphy more than the state of the room. ‘Yeah, no problem.’
He showed them out, leaving Murphy and Rossi to walk down the stairs towards the exit of the building. Murphy tried to make sense of his thoughts. He was so sure he’d got his man, but the performance of the young lad had been too convincing. He was scared, not of being caught, but of being questioned. Being thought of as anything less.
Murphy didn’t know what to think. Only that he was pissed off he wasn’t arresting the cheating scrote. Open and shut case, to keep the wolves at bay. A murder case at that.
‘Well?’ Rossi eventually said as they sat in the car.
Murphy gripped the steering wheel a bit tighter than he already was. ‘I’m not convinced. I want you to speak to the girlfriend. On your own. I think you’ll get somewhere.’
‘Okay.’
They drove back to the station in silence.
Murphy sighed and leaned back in his chair. The day was coming to an end, an endless round of interviews with various possible witnesses and students getting them nowhere.
‘Anything from DC Harris yet?’
‘Not yet. He’s the last one,’ Rossi replied from her desk opposite.
‘We might not have got anything from those interviews, but I think we need to keep focus on the university. If it’s not Will, it’s someone there.’
Rossi pursed her lips, seemingly wanting to say something in rebuttal, before thinking better of it and saying nothing. She was learning quickly. Murphy liked that.
There was something more bothering Murphy though. He kept coming back to the letter, the words seeming to mock him personally. He’d attempted to dismiss them as the ramblings of a spurned student, trying to put them off track. Yet he kept coming back to the passage about death, unable to stop thinking about it. The words burned onto his memory.
Death is inevitable, yet people are always surprised when it happens.
He shook his head. He needed to go home, eat, sleep, shower.
Murphy stood up, taking his jacket from the back of his chair. ‘I’m getting off, Laura. Nothing more we can do right now. Get some sleep, okay?’
‘Oh, okay sir. Meet you here at eight?’
‘Yeah, fine.’ Murphy replied. He turned and headed out, entering the lift which was thankfully already at his floor.
Murphy leaned against the back of the lift, closing his eyes. The pain was back, rocketing across his head behind his eyes. Brilliant flashes of stinging light.
Stop thinking about her. Stop it. He repeated the mantra softly to himself for the entire lift journey, only stopping when the doors opened again.
The image of the dead girl, Donna McMahon, lying pale and peaceful, laid out on a bed made from damp earth, stuck in his mind. The image flickering across his conscious, soft, sharp, in focus, blurred.
The pain became worse. The image didn’t fade.
Murphy had to sit in his car for fifteen minutes, eyes closed, before he felt well enough to drive.
The pain subsided. The image didn’t. The way it always was. The pain was good in a way. At least it dampened down the worst of the flashbacks. The images of red flashing across his eyes, the pounding of his heartbeat as his breath shortened and became shallow.
They were always there. Ready for him. He just wanted to be normal again. Not some clichéd version of himself. Donna’s face blurred and became others. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.
He was haunted. The past, the present, forever blighted by his life. He couldn’t see any end to it.
This was just him now.
Rossi watched Murphy leave, entering the lift and resting his head against the back wall, his eyes closed.
Merda. He was losing it already. Great.
She could see Brannon watching her from his desk, a dirty smirk on his face. He could see it too. All she needed.
She checked the time; just before half past seven on day two. She pulled the letter from her desk and read it again.
It was too neat, too academic. Non emotional. If it was someone the victim knew, wouldn’t there be more there?