Not his son
Not his Billy
[one or more sheets missing]
THERE’S NO FOOD LEFT AND THE WATER IS RUNNING OUT I DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH LONGER I CAN MAKE IT LAST
I CAN HEAR PEOPLE NEXT DOOR BUT HOWEVER LOUD I SCREAM NO ONE COMES
NO ONE COMES
***
Baxter calls me from the custody suite at 5.30 p.m. My head is full of words. The girl’s words and the pictures my brain has made from them. I knew what he must have done to her but it’s different – hearing it, watching it play out in my brain. I’ve an anger now that I know I’m going to have to be very careful of. And the most immense pity.
On the other end of the line, Baxter is waiting. ‘Boss?’
‘Sorry, miles away. What is it?’
‘It’s Harper. He’s lucid. And he says he wants to make a statement.’
Time to count to ten.
‘Right. Have you called his lawyer?’
‘She’s going to be at least an hour, I’m afraid, and I’m not sure we can afford to wait. Not in the state he’s in – by the time she gets here we could have lost him again. His doctor’s here though, so if you’re OK with it she’s willing to be the appropriate adult.’
‘Fine by me. Bring him up to Interview One. Is Quinn around?’
‘Haven’t seen him.’
‘You then. I’ll be there in ten minutes.’
*
Harper looks me straight in the eye when I go into the room, which is definitely a first. His back is straight and he seems aware of his surroundings. The doctor is a capable-looking woman with tired grey hair and unexpectedly pretty eyes. I take my seat next to Baxter and look across at Harper.
‘I believe you want to make a statement, Dr Harper?’
I sense Baxter glance at me; he can tell something’s changed just from my voice.
Harper hesitates, then nods.
‘And you are aware that this is a formal interview, and you are still under caution?’
Another nod.
‘In that case, for the recording, I am Detective Inspector Adam Fawley. Also present besides Dr Harper are Dr Lynda Pearson and DC Andrew Baxter. So, Dr Harper, what is it you want to tell us?’
He looks at me, then at Baxter. But he says nothing.
‘Dr Harper?’
He looks around at us all, slower this time. ‘It’s her, isn’t it?’ he says.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You want me to talk about her.’
Baxter opens his mouth to speak but I put out a hand to stop him. I want to hear this the way Harper tells it. I’ve heard the girl’s version; now I want to hear his.
He reaches for the cup of water in front of him, then looks up at me. His eyes are wet and streaked with tiny red veins. ‘Have you ever wished you could put the clock back – even just for a single hour?’
My heart hammers and for a moment I don’t think I can breathe. Whatever I was expecting, it wasn’t this. The anger, it’s still there, but what I’m feeling most now is loss. Not Hannah’s, not Vicky’s, not even the child’s. My own. Because I wouldn’t even need an hour; I’d give everything I have for five minutes. The five minutes I spent sorting out the dustbins the night Jake died. The five minutes that meant I was too late reaching him, cutting him down, getting life back into his lungs. That’s all it was.
Five minutes.
Five bloody minutes.
‘She haunts me, you know,’ he says suddenly. ‘That red dress that made her look like a whore. Her cold little hands closing round my cock. I knew it couldn’t be her – that she wasn’t actually there. But it didn’t stop. Night after night. She wouldn’t leave me in peace.’
I lean forward. ‘Who are you talking about, Dr Harper?’
‘It was a moment of madness. That’s what they say, isn’t it? A “moment of madness”. But you can’t go back. Afterwards, I mean. You have to live with what you’ve done.’
He puts his head in his hands and rubs his eyes. ‘These last few months, I know I’ve not been myself. The bloody booze. Blackouts. Seeing things. Waking up somewhere and not knowing how I got there.’
He sits back in his chair and his arms drop to his sides. ‘That shit Ross wants to put me in a home. Says I’m fucking doo-lally. Perhaps he’s right.’
I see Lynda Pearson glance at him and I think I know why. The swearing – it’s like a warning light. A sign he’s slipping. That we’re losing him.
I open my cardboard folder quickly and take out a picture of the girl. It’s the first time I’ve looked at her face since I read what Challow found.
‘Is this the woman you’re talking about?’
He looks at me blankly. Blinks.
‘This young woman is called Vicky. She was found in the cellar of your house. With a little boy.’
I pass across a second picture. He pushes it away. ‘Priscilla always was an evil cow.’
‘This isn’t your wife, Dr Harper. This is a young woman called Hannah Gardiner. Her body was found in your shed. She’d been missing for two years.’
I pull the photos together side by side, facing him. ‘What can you tell me about these women?’
‘I know what you’re thinking but you’re wrong. I am not a bad man. She probably told you I was. She probably said I was a pervert.’ There is spit dribbling from his mouth now. ‘One of those paedophiles the press get so uptight about. That’s what she said. That I was a nasty twisted peedo and I ought to be locked up.’
‘Who said that?’ says Baxter. ‘It was Vicky, wasn’t it – when you were doing whatever sick things you were doing to her –’
Harper shrinks back. ‘What’s he talking about?’ He turns to Pearson, louder now. ‘What’s he talking about?’
I point to Vicky’s picture. ‘Dr Harper, we have evidence that you raped this girl –’
He starts to rock backwards and forwards, snivelling quietly. ‘It’s not my fault, it’s not my fault.’
‘– raped her and kept her locked up in your cellar for nigh on three years –’
He covers his ears. ‘I don’t go down there – not any more – there’s something down there – I hear it – in the night – wailing and scratching –’
I lean forward, forcing him to look at me. ‘What did you hear down there, Dr Harper? What did you hear?’
But Pearson turns to me and shakes her head. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, I don’t think we can carry on with this.’
Outside, in the corridor, Pearson catches up with me.
‘I think there’s something you should know. I’d have said something before, but it’s the first time I’ve seen that picture – there’s been nothing in the press.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m not with you.’ If I’m a bit short with her, well, that’s not going to come as any great surprise.
‘That girl,’ she says. ‘Vicky. She’s the image of Priscilla. The hair, the eyes, everything. I’m not sure what it means – or if it means anything – but it’s something you need to know.’
‘Was Mrs Harper your patient too?’
She shakes her head. ‘No. She went private. But I met her a few times. Let’s just say that she wasn’t a very easy person.’
‘According to our records, the police were called out twice to disturbances at the house. On both occasions it appears she was the aggressor. That she attacked her husband.’
She nods. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised. By all accounts she led him a dog’s life. I remember Bill telling me he’d been to infertility testing because they were trying to get pregnant. It was only much later that he found out she’d had a coil fitted privately years before. He was furious. As much for the lie as for the fact that he’d missed his chance to be a father. He and Nancy had wanted kids but it never happened.’