‘George,’ Sian said, adjusting herself in her hard plastic seat, ‘we found this address book in your father’s – Brian’s – house. He knew where you lived.’
‘What?’
Sian pushed it across the table to George. The book was open at the As with George’s details written in neat block capitals.
‘Oh my God,’ he exclaimed. ‘How did he …? I …’
‘Did he ever come to see you?’
‘No.’
‘Did your housemates say you’d had a visitor while you were out, or did they notice someone hanging around?’
‘No,’ he replied, his face was a map of worry. ‘Do you think he was following me?’
‘I really don’t know, George. I’m sorry.’
‘This is a nightmare.’ He ran his skinny fingers through his tangled hair.
‘OK.’ Sian shifted in her seat again. ‘George, I’m only asking this for elimination purposes, but where were you on Thursday night?’
‘Last Thursday?’ he asked quickly. His eyes widened.
‘Yes.’
‘Is that when he was …?’
‘Yes.’
‘I was at home.’
‘Can anyone verify that?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I was in my room. I should have been working in the uni bar but there was a balls-up with the rota. I didn’t mind. I was shattered after working four nights in a row until the early hours. I decided to have an early night instead.’
‘How early?’
‘I don’t know. About nine o’clock, I think.’
‘Alone?’
‘Of course alone. I thought you were asking me for elimination purposes? It sounds like you’re accusing me of something.’
‘Sian,’ Matilda said through her earpiece. ‘Ask him about his feelings towards his father. Call him his father too.’
‘George, how do you feel about your dad?’
His eyes flitted from Sian to Scott and back again. He swallowed hard a couple of times. Eventually, he replied. ‘I despise him.’ He spoke with such venom and hatred that it seemed to resound off the walls.
‘Why is that?’
‘Wouldn’t you hate your dad if he raped little girls?’
‘But he’s still your father at the end of the day.’
A wave of emotions swept across George’s pale face. ‘I despise him. For what he did, I hate him. I physically hate the man. He’s not my dad. As far as I’m concerned I don’t have a dad.’
‘What do you think?’ Matilda asked Sian as they stood in the foyer of the station watching through the doors as Scott led George to the car.
‘He hates his father. Hate is a very good motive for murder.’
‘He was building himself a decent life here in Sheffield. University, new friends, finding out who he really is, and then Brian comes along to ruin it all.’
‘Do you think they were in contact?’ Sian asked. Neither of them took their eyes from the student.
‘It’s possible. Look at it from Brian’s point of view. You’ve been released from prison and practically been run out of your home. Your wife, brothers and parents want nothing to do with you. Your son, however, was only nine when you were put away. You’ve not heard from him or seen him since. Surely, you’re going to try to make amends, get him back on side.’
Sian thought for a while. ‘I think I would. If it was me. I’d want to contact my children and apologize for what I’d done.’
‘Maybe that’s what Brian did.’
‘And George wanted nothing to do with him. Maybe we should have a quiet chat with George’s housemates, when he’s not around, obviously.’
‘Definitely. He has no alibi either. We’ll be speaking to him again.’ Matilda walked over to the double doors and pulled one open. George was just getting into the car when he looked up and saw Matilda. He gave her a simple smile. She wasn’t going to be fooled. She’d seen smiles like that before.
Day Ten
Saturday, 18 March 2017
He may have been only five years old, but Jason Lacey knew the benefits to having a birthday fall on a weekend rather than a weekday – he didn’t have to go to school. He woke up earlier than usual, excited at what his parents had planned for him that day. He ran into their bedroom and jumped on the bed. It was like Christmas morning all over again. At least he’d waited until it was light this time.
After breakfast, which he ate in record time, Jason was allowed to open two presents. His mother ushered him out of the room to get dressed upstairs.
‘Right, let’s go through the plan one more time,’ Karen said to her husband, entering the living room while putting her coat on. She spoke in hushed tones just in case her son was listening.
Joe sighed and lowered his newspaper. ‘I’m not thick. I know what I’m doing.’
‘You’re not even dressed yet.’
He looked down at his cartoon pyjamas and dressing gown.
‘Have you been sat there reading the paper while I’ve got myself and three kids ready?’
‘It’s the weekend.’
‘It’s also your son’s birthday. Now, are you sure you don’t want to take the kids to the cinema and I’ll collect everything?’
‘You really don’t trust me, do you?’ He smiled.
‘It’s not that,’ Karen started to flounder. ‘It’s just … well, organization isn’t your strong point, is it?’
Joe dug around in the pocket of his dressing gown and pulled out a tatty sheet of A4 paper. He unfolded it. ‘See, I have your instructions with me which I shall carry out to the letter.’
She kissed him on his recently shaved head. ‘You know how to make me happy.’
‘I thought I did that on your birthday last month.’ He winked. He grabbed the waistband of her jeans and pulled her towards him.
The sound of three small children thundering down the stairs interrupted them.
‘Right, we’ll be off now. Don’t forget, presents first, cake last. We’ll be back by four at the latest.’
‘Should we synchronize watches?’ he asked, staring intently at the Breitling he’d been given for Christmas.
‘Promise me you’ll not forget anything.’
‘I promise.’ He smiled.
Karen leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. ‘Make sure you have a shave too.’
‘I’ll even wash behind my ears.’
Karen rolled her eyes and left the room. The three children, Esme, Victoria, and birthday boy, Jason, were all excitedly waiting in the hallway wrapping themselves