"Rosalind," I said. "Jessica."
Jessica flinched, eyes widening sharply, and the illusion was gone. She was holding something, a packet of sugar from the bowl in the middle of the table; she shoved the corner into her mouth and started to suck on it.
Rosalind's face lit up at the sight of me. "Detective Ryan! It's so good to see you. I know it was short notice, but-Oh, sit down, sit down…" I pulled up another armchair. "Jessica saw something I think you should know about. Didn't you, pet?"
Jessica shrugged, an awkward wriggle.
"Hi, Jessica," I said, softly and as calmly as I could. My mind was shooting in a dozen directions at once: if this had anything to do with the parents then I would have to find somewhere for the girls to go, and Jessica was going to be terrible on the stand-"I'm glad you decided to tell me. What did you see?"
Her lips parted; she swayed a little in her chair. Then she shook her head.
"Oh, dear…I thought this might happen." Rosalind sighed. "Well. She told me that she saw Katy-"
"Thanks, Rosalind," I said, "but I really need to hear this from Jessica. Otherwise it's hearsay, and that's not admissible in court."
Rosalind stared blankly, taken aback. Finally she nodded. "Well," she said, "of course, if that's what you need, then…I just hope…" She bent over Jessica and tried to catch her eye, smiling; hooked her hair back behind her ear. "Jessica? Darling? You really need to tell Detective Ryan what we talked about, sweetheart. It's important."
Jessica ducked her head away. "Don't remember," she whispered.
Rosalind's smile tightened. "Come on, Jessica. You remembered just fine earlier on, before we came all the way out here and dragged Detective Ryan away from work. Didn't you?"
Jessica shook her head again and bit down on the sugar packet. Her lip was trembling.
"It's all right," I said. I wanted to shake her. "She's just a little nervous. She's been having a hard time. Right, Jessica?"
"We've both been having a hard time," Rosalind said sharply, "but one of us has to act like an adult instead of like a stupid little girl." Jessica shrank deeper into her oversized sweater.
"I know," I said, in what I hoped was a soothing tone, "I know. I understand how hard this is-"
"No, actually, Detective Ryan, you don't." Rosalind's crossed knee was jiggling angrily. "Nobody can possibly understand what this is like. I don't know why we came in. Jessica can't be bothered to tell you what she saw, and you obviously don't think that matters. We might as well go."
I couldn't lose them. "Rosalind," I said urgently, leaning forward across the table, "I'm taking this very seriously. And I do understand. Honestly, I do."
Rosalind laughed bitterly, fumbling under the table for her purse. "Oh, I'm sure. Put that thing down, Jessica. We're going home."
"Rosalind, I do. When I was about Jessica's age, two of my best friends disappeared. I know what you're going through."
Her head came up and she stared at me.
"I know it's not the same as losing a sister-"
"It isn't."
"-but I do know how hard it is to be the one left behind. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure you get some answers. OK?"
Rosalind kept staring for another long moment. Then she dropped her purse and laughed, a breathless burst of relief. "Oh-oh, Detective Ryan!" Before she thought, she had reached across the table and caught my hand. "I knew there was a reason why you're the perfect person for this case!"
I hadn't looked at it this way before, and the thought was warming. "I hope you're right," I said.
I gave her hand a squeeze; it was intended to be reassuring, but she suddenly realized what she had done and pulled away, in an embarrassed flutter. "Oh, I didn't mean to-"
"Tell you what," I said, "you and I can talk for a while, until Jessica feels ready to explain what she saw. How's that?"
"Jessica? Pet?" Rosalind touched Jessica's arm; she jumped, eyes wide. "Do you want to stay here for a bit?"
Jessica thought about this, gazing up into Rosalind's face. Rosalind smiled down at her. Finally she nodded.
I bought coffee for Rosalind and me and a 7-Up for Jessica. Jessica held her glass in both hands and stared, as if hypnotized, at the bubbles floating upwards, while Rosalind and I talked.
Frankly, I hadn't expected to take much pleasure in a teenager's conversation, but Rosalind was an unusual kid. The initial shock of Katy's death had worn off and for the first time I got a chance to see what she was really like: outgoing, bubbly, all sparkle and dash, ridiculously bright and articulate. I wondered where the girls like this had been when I was eighteen. She was naïve, but she knew it; she told jokes on herself with such zest and mischief that-in spite of the context, and my creeping worry that this level of innocence would get her into trouble one day, and Jessica sitting there watching invisible booglies like a cat-my laughter was real.
"What are you going to do when you leave school?" I asked. I was genuinely curious. I couldn't picture this girl in some nine-to-five office.
Rosalind smiled, but a sad little shadow passed across her face. "I'd love to study music. I've been playing the violin since I was nine, and I do a little bit of composing; my teacher says I'm…well, he says I shouldn't have any trouble getting into a good course. But…" She sighed. "It's expensive, and my-my parents don't really approve. They want me to do a secretarial course."
But they had been behind Katy's Royal Ballet School ambitions, all the way. In Domestic Violence I had seen cases like this, where parents choose a favorite or a scapegoat (I made a bit of a pet of her, Jonathan had said, that first day) and siblings grow up in utterly different families. Few of them end well.
"You'll find a way," I said. The idea of her as a secretary was ludicrous; what the hell was Devlin thinking? "A scholarship or something. It sounds like you're good."
She ducked her head modestly. "Well. Last year the National Youth Orchestra performed a sonata I wrote."
I didn't believe her, of course. The lie was transparent-something that size, someone would have mentioned it during the door-to-door-and it went straight to my heart as no sonata ever could have; because I recognized it. That's my twin brother, his name's Peter, he's seven minutes older than me… Children-and Rosalind was little more-don't tell pointless lies unless the reality is too much to bear.
For a moment I almost said as much. Rosalind, I know something's wrong at home; tell me, let me help… But it was too soon; she would just have thrown all her defenses up again, it would have undone everything I had managed to do. "Well done," I said. "That's pretty impressive."
She laughed a little, embarrassed; glanced up at me under her lashes.
"Your friends," she said timidly. "The ones who disappeared. What happened?"
"It's a long story," I said. I had painted myself into this one, and I had no idea how to get out of it. Rosalind's eyes were starting to turn suspicious, and, while there was not a chance in hell that I was going to go into the whole Knocknaree thing, the last thing I wanted was to lose her trust after all this.
Jessica, of all people, saved me: she shifted a little in the armchair, stretched out a finger to Rosalind's arm.
Rosalind didn't seem to notice. "Jessica?" I said.
"Oh-what is it, sweetheart?" Rosalind bent towards her. "Are you ready to tell Detective Ryan about the man?"