Say You're Sorry Part 14

"Late last night I received a phone call from the senior pathologist at the mortuary at John Radcliffe Hospital. Dental records have confirmed that the body recovered from Radley Lakes four days ago was your daughter."

Mrs. McBain looks at him and then at me. "But on the radio they said it was a woman."

"It was definitely Natasha. I am very sorry for your loss."

Alice shakes her head. Her eyes show no emotion, no focus. She understands the news, but doesn't feel it yet.

"Natasha is dead, Mum," says Hayden.

There is a groan deep in her chest. She puts one fist and then a second over her mouth, pressing them to her lips. She looks at me, wanting confirmation, fearing everything beyond this moment.

Almost as quickly her grief seems to evaporate. She drops her hands and places them in her lap. She's not angry with Drury. She's not hurling insults or making accusations or laying blame. Humble and undemanding, she lowers her gaze to the faded carpet.

"Was she raped?" Hayden asks.

"I can't discuss the nature of her injuries," says Drury.

"It's been three years-where has she been?"

"We don't know."

Drury turns to Alice.

"I have to ask you some questions. I know it's difficult. Had you heard anything from Natasha?"

She shakes her head.

"No phone calls? Letters? Emails?"

"No."

"Did anyone ever call and hang up?"

"No."

"I need to talk to your husband, Mrs. McBain."

"He's not my husband anymore."

"I still need to talk to him."

Hayden interrupts. "I'll give you his address."

Alice sniffles and twists the sleeve of her cardigan. "How did my baby die?"

"She drowned in a lake. She was caught out in the blizzard."

"What was she doing out there?"

"We think she may have been trying to get home. Radley Lakes aren't far from the farmhouse."

A faint vibration comes off Alice, as though something is spinning inside her at a terrible soundless speed.

"She was coming home?"

"That's just one theory." Drury acknowledges me and goes back to Alice. "Did Natasha know a man called Augie Shaw?"

Hayden stiffens. "Is that the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who took her?"

"Please just answer the question."

Hayden gets to his feet, pulling forward and back like a dog jerking against a leash.

"What did he do to her?"

"I know you're angry, son. That's understandable in the circ.u.mstances, but you have to leave this to us."

Hayden isn't listening. "I saw him on the news. He killed them people in our old house. Did he take our Tash? What did he do to her?"

Drury looks at Alice, hoping she might intervene, but she seems to be wrestling with the news, fighting her emotions.

The DCI tries again. "Did Natasha know William and Patricia Heyman?"

Alice shakes her head.

"What about their daughter, Flora?"

"I don't know."

Hayden picks up a cus.h.i.+on from the floor and holds it against his chest as he paces. Alice stares at the muted TV as though lip-reading.

She whispers. "You read those stories, don't you, of people who never give up hope. Who never stop believing that their children are coming home..." She takes a deep breath. "I stopped believing. I gave up on Tash. I should have had more faith."

"There's nothing you could have done," says Drury.

"Do you know how often I just sat holding the phone, willing it to ring? I did it for weeks, months, nearly a year. Until I finally convinced myself that she was dead. I stopped praying. I stopped thinking she was alive. In the darkest part of the darkest night, I abandoned my little girl... and all the time she was alive. She was trying to get home."

A sob breaks inside her chest. "I want to see her."

"I don't think that's-"

"I want to see my Natasha."

"You have to understand-she's been away a long time-she doesn't look like she once did."

"I don't care. She's my daughter."

Drury glances at me, wanting me to dissuade Alice, but I've seen grief in many forms and this mother knows her mind. It's not that Alice doesn't believe Drury or that she's clinging to some irrational hope that Tash might still be alive. She wants to say sorry. She wants to say goodbye.

The DCI relents. "In the meantime, I'm going to a.s.sign a family liaison officer. She'll keep you informed of developments. For the time being we won't be releasing any information to the media. We'd prefer, for the sake of the investigation, that n.o.body knows it was Natasha in the lake. We have to re-interview witnesses and check alibis. I'm sure you understand."

"For how long?" Hayden asks, treating it like an imposition.

Drury stands to leave. "Just a few days."

"Before we go," I interrupt. "I have a few questions for Mrs. McBain."

Alice blinks at me, as though taken by surprise.

"I wanted to ask you about Natasha."

"What about her?"

"What was she like? I've seen the photographs and read the statements but I want to hear it from you... in your own words."

Hayden looks at me incredulously. "What difference does it make now? She's dead!"

Ignoring him, I focus on Alice. "I'm a psychologist. I'm trying to understand what happened. By knowing more about Natasha, I can learn things about the man who took her."

"You think she's to blame for this?"

"No."

Hayden wants to protest but Alice touches his forearm with her fingertips. He swallows his anger, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Meanwhile, Alice begins talking softly, describing Natasha. Instead of physical details, she mentions moments, relations.h.i.+ps, loves. Natasha had a dog. She got him as a puppy on her twelfth birthday, a Jack Russell. She called him Basher. They used to go everywhere together.

"Tash even smuggled him to school one day." Alice smiles. "She could be a terror, but she was a good student, our Tash. Clever. Easily bored. They said she was expelled, but the school would have taken her back. Mrs. Jacobson told me so."

"How did she get on with her father?"

"They had their moments."

"Moments?"

Alice falters. "You try to set boundaries, you know. Kids try to cross them. Tash wanted to grow up too quick. Couldn't wait for anything."

"Did she have boyfriends?"

"She was popular."

"Did she ever take drugs?"

Her eyes narrow and Hayden answers for her.

"What the f.u.c.k does that matter? You can't come in here and say s.h.i.+t like that. She's dead! What sort of moron-"

"Mind your language," says Alice. "There's no need for swearing. The man is just trying to do his job."

Hayden falls silent. Seething.

A car pulls up outside the house. I can hear the doof doof ba.s.s beat from its sound system, cranked up and shaking the air. Moments later the doorbell rings. There are male voices. Laughter. The letterbox flap opens.

"Hey, Hayden, we know you're in there."

"Not now, I'm busy."

"This is business."

Hayden almost trips over the coffee table trying to reach the door. Cursing, he tells them to leave; mentions the police; more expletives.

Alice stands slowly and looks at Drury. "I have to go to work now," she says, almost moving from memory.

She extends her hand. "I want to thank you. A lot of people made promises to us when my Tash went missing. Not many of those promises were kept. I want to thank you for bringing her home."

In the entrance hall, Drury pulls on his overcoat and stumbles slightly, bracing himself against the wall. His eyes are s.h.i.+ning. Tilting his head back, he stares at the ceiling.

"That woman just thanked me for finding her daughter dead."

"I know."

"I hate this job."

As we leave the house, the car is still parked outside, a Vauxhall Cavalier, music blaring, tinted windows at half-mast. Two white youths are leaning on the open doors, hands deep in their pockets, hoodies like cowls.

Drury wanders across the muddy gra.s.s. He knows their names. They laugh too loudly at nothing at all, grinning at each other. The balance of power is evident. The big one is in his mid-twenties, older by five years, with a shaved head. His mate is skinny with fairer skin and a nervous twitch that sends his eyes sideways as though he's constantly looking for rea.s.surance.

Drury returns and slips behind the wheel.

"Who are they?" I ask.

"The local wildlife," he says. "The tall one is Toby Kroger. He's a big man on the Blackbird Leys estate, a drug dealer and a pimp. We picked him up two years ago for living off immoral earnings, but the two girls he put on the game refused to give evidence against him.

"The skinny one is Craig Gould. He's a musician with more talent than he deserves. Plays the saxophone. We arrested him a year ago with a vial of Rohypnol in his pocket. He likes his girlfriends to be comatose."

Drury starts the engine and puts the car into gear. "I could arrest guys like that every day of the week, but it wouldn't make any difference. They're floaters."

"Floaters?"

"t.u.r.ds that don't flush."

13.