Anna squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She looked out over the field for a couple of minutes, where a small group of boys was playing football.
Why didn’t you tell me? You should have called as soon as you knew. Anna was always direct, and I should have expected her reaction.
Because I’m a coward, I admitted. I knew how devastated you would be, and I didn’t want to be the person who made your heart break.
That’s crap, Paige. I found out through Facebook. Do you have any idea how horrible it is to get news like that via social media?
I hung my head, ashamed of myself for putting my sister through that. I’m so sorry.
She nodded, and I knew I was forgiven. Anna wasn’t the sort to bear a grudge, and there were far greater things to worry about.
I only talked to Laura on Friday. She called me while she was at soft play with Lexi. Then just a few hours later … Anna shuddered and didn’t finish the thought.
We stood next to each other for a moment, lost in our own thoughts, until she turned, squared her shoulders and looked me in the eye.
What’s happening now? Have they arrested anyone?
Nothing like that. They haven’t even released the results of the post-mortem yet. It could have been anyone. I scuffed my toe in the gravel by the gate and stifled a yawn. I was shattered, emotionally wrung out.
Why won’t they say what’s happened? You can’t pretend it was anything other than murder, not like with Caitlin.
I gave my head the smallest of shakes; I wasn’t prepared to talk about Caitlin.
When did you last see her? Anna asked me. For a moment I didn’t realise she was talking about Lexi, but then I noticed she had her keys in her hand. The keyring had a photo inside it. Lexi, with her thick dark curls framing her face, giggling. Her natural state of being.
The time you took her to soft play, just before Christmas.
Anna nodded. She loved it there. Whenever I looked after her, I’d take her there while Laura spent time with Jaxon. There was nothing she didn’t enjoy. Lexi was the happiest child I’ve ever known. Completely the opposite of her brother.
I nodded, remembering the way Lexi giggled as she climbed and rolled, Anna lifting her up and tickling her, or burying her under the ball pool. She’d slept all the way home, exhausted by all the fun she’d been having. There wasn’t a single grump or grizzle out of her the whole day.
I hope the police find who did this, she said. She stepped away from the fence and stared at me, the same determined stare I remembered from when we were children and she had a challenge ahead of her. I started walking again, feeling the need to move.
I just can’t comprehend how something like this could happen. Why would someone kill Lexi? Anna asked, as if I were keeping the answer from her, but I had asked myself the same question dozens of times.
An image floated through my mind of a cuddly bear with a bloodstained foot. There were too many unanswered questions, and I didn’t know what to think. I wanted to believe that this was something that couldn’t have been prevented, a tragic accident, but that wasn’t possible. Both Alan and Elisha seemed evasive. Were they trying to cover something up, hoping they wouldn’t be held responsible? If they were the only people in the house … I couldn’t bring myself to finish the thought.
Anna had always been good at picking up on my emotions, and I knew she could see the turmoil going on behind my eyes. She kept pace with me, putting an arm around me, and we walked like that for a while. I knew she’d be thinking the same things as me, but it was too much to process.
When we were nearly back at the flat, she stopped me and turned me to face her.
What do you know? she asked, her eyes searching my face for information.
I shook my head. I can’t tell you about it, you know that.
Please, Paige. I have to know what happened.
You don’t. It won’t make it any better. Anyway, it’s confidential. I have to be professional about this.
I won’t tell anyone, she implored. Please.
I shook my head. No.
She looked like she was going to ask again, but thought better of it. I was glad; I was stressed enough as it was. If I was going to be involved in the investigation, I hoped it moved quickly. There was only so much of it I could take.
For the rest of the day, Anna and I caught up, talking about anything we could think of other than Lexi. Her ghost was there with us, in the room, but we managed to avoid the subject until the evening, when we were hopping around Netflix and sharing a bottle of Pinot Grigio.
There are loads of rumours flying around online, Anna told me, scrolling through her phone.
What about?
Lexi. Who might have done it; why they did it.
I frowned at her. Facebook isn’t exactly the most reliable source of information, is it?
She shrugged. It’s still interesting to know what people are saying. I can’t get information from anywhere else, she said pointedly, but I didn’t take the bait. She’d piqued my interest, though, and I tried peering over her shoulder, then gave up and opened my laptop so we could have a better look.
Someone, presumably one of Laura’s friends, had set up a page entitled ‘RIP Lexi’, where people had been leaving messages for Laura and her family, offering their sympathy and expressing outrage. It was all very banal, like when there’s a terrorist attack or a natural disaster and everyone rushes to write ‘Praying for Paris’ as their status, as if it will send mystical healing energy across the sea to whichever city’s afflicted.
Anna logged into her account, because it was her friends who were discussing it rather than mine, and I couldn’t access their pages. Clicking on her notifications, she pointed out that someone had added her to a group called ‘JFL’. I told her to click on it, intrigued.
It was a secret group. The description read ‘Justice for Lexi. The police need to know the truth about Alan Hunter and lock him up.’ Well, at least it was unambiguous. I wondered who set it up, because there was a good chance they could be done for libel, by the looks of what people were saying.
There was a real mix of posts, most of which fell into that same meaningless sympathy category, then a few attention seekers, and some who seemed to think of themselves as private investigators. A few all caps rants were thrown into the mix:
ALAN HUNTER IS A DRUGGIE AND SELLS DRUGS TO KIDS HE SHULD NOT BE ALOUD TO LOOK AFTER KIDS.
This is ridiculous, I told Anna, and she nodded but carried on scrolling.
I skimmed the posts as she scrolled. Most were concerned with Alan’s drug peddling. Everyone in our community knew he was a minor dealer, so I was sure the police must have already known something about it. Maybe evidence would come to light during this investigation that they couldn’t ignore.
I don’t think there’s really anything useful on here, I told her, but she shook her head.
Look at this one. She pointed to the screen.
It was a post from someone called MB – I had no idea who it was, but I was sure they must have been connected to the family in some way, from what they’d written. I read the post through a couple of times.
‘The paper has more information about how Lexi died. The police need to connect the dots with Alan Hunter’s previous arrests.’
That was it. Just two sentences, but they left me with far more questions. Clearly, this person had intended to be cryptic, but he or she had no replies to their post, so either people were ignoring it or they didn’t know what it meant.
Do you have the local paper? Anna asked.
No, but we should be able to read the story online. I’d given up my pretence that I wasn’t interested beyond my professional connection to the case.
Did you know Alan had ever been arrested? Anna asked.
I remembered what Forest had said about Alan having a record.
Not before this happened, I told her, opening a new browser window and pulling up the site for our local paper. It didn’t take long to find the stories about Lexi, as it had been on the local news the night before and all the front pages that morning. Something that shocking wouldn’t be ignored by the media.
Poring over the most recent article, it didn’t take me long to find exactly what MB had been talking about in that mysterious post.
‘An unnamed source has reported that Lexi suffered blunt force trauma from a heavy object, some time late Friday night or in the early hours of Saturday morning. Witnesses are being questioned, although no arrests have been made at this time.’
Blunt force trauma? You said they didn’t know how she died. Anna gave me a hurt look, as if I’d deliberately lied to her.
I don’t know anything about her cause of death, I insisted. I didn’t think they had the post-mortem results yet. I’d seen the blood all over Elisha and the teddy bear, as well as a brief glimpse of Lexi herself, but there was no way I was going to tell Anna about it. She didn’t need that image in her head any more than I did.
What has this article got to do with Alan? What did that post mean about his previous arrests? Laura never told me Alan had been in trouble with the police, even after he left her for Elisha.
Anna pulled up the secret group again, looking for MB’s post, but she couldn’t find it. I took the laptop from her and scrolled up and down the page a few times, wondering if it had been bumped down by people commenting on other posts, but it definitely wasn’t there.
Where did the post go?
I shrugged. Maybe they deleted it, or whoever the group admin is got rid of it? I did a quick search for the screen name, but no profiles came up. What could have happened in the space of a few minutes to make someone delete their post?
It’s gone.
It can’t have just gone. Anna grabbed the laptop and searched again, but came up with nothing.
Maybe it was deleted because it was libellous?
Anna gave me a dismissive wave of her hand. How can we find out why Alan was arrested before?
Thank God for the internet. I didn’t fancy traipsing down to the library and looking through old copies of the paper, or whatever it was people used to do before we had this handy worldwide database of cat pictures and porn.
To begin with, we searched for his name, but that brought up far too many results for us to wade through. There were an awful lot of people called Alan Hunter in the world – hundreds on Facebook, at first glance. So we added further search terms to narrow it down: Alan Hunter deaf Scunthorpe. We spent the next ten minutes trawling through articles about deaf football – it seemed Alan was a pretty good player until he suffered an injury.
Trying again, we searched for ‘Alan Hunter deaf Scunthorpe arrested’ and hit the jackpot. It was only a small article, from three years earlier, but the gist was clear: Alan was suspected of attacking a man in the street, a man who allegedly owed him money. How had this man been attacked? He’d been clubbed with a heavy object.
A cold feeling washed over me as I thought about the implications of what we’d read, and from the look on Anna’s face I could tell she was thinking the same thing. Clearly, this was exactly the connection MB wanted the police to make. Alan’s daughter probably died after being hit with a heavy object. Alan had a history of attacking people and bludgeoning them. I couldn’t find out if Alan was charged and spent any time in jail, as the article didn’t specify, so I wondered if he was released. Maybe that was why MB’s post was taken down, because Alan wasn’t actually convicted? So was this MB person just a troublemaker, another of the people convinced Alan must have killed Lexi, or did they know something about that night?
Anna tried a few more times to get information out of me about the case, but I stood my ground. It wasn’t just because I needed to keep things confidential; I didn’t think it would do Anna any good to know what I’d seen and heard. She had been here less than a day, and I was already worried about how far she wanted to involve herself and interfere. I knew I was already in too deep, but I hoped by keeping Anna close I could prevent her going the same way.
15 hours before the murder
Alan finished work on the lorry’s tyre and checked his watch. Carefully putting his tools away, he wandered down the road outside the yard before he lit his cigarette. Whatever others might think of him, he wouldn’t break his employer’s safety rules by smoking that close to the petrol tanks.
It was Friday, which meant he’d have the kids for the weekend. He really needed to speak to Laura and change the arrangement, they were bloody hard work. Surely one weekend in three would be enough? He loved his children, of course, but sometimes he wanted a bit of time without them. Good job Elisha was good with kids.
He stubbed out his cigarette and was about to walk back up the road to the haulage yard where he worked when a black Fiesta pulled up next to him. It had a large spoiler on the back, black wheel trims and yellow filters over the headlights, none of which hid the fact that the car had seen better days.
Rick Lombard wound down the window and Alan looked towards his workplace, debating whether to ignore him or have a conversation.
What are you doing here? he asked at last, sauntering closer to the car but staying far enough away that if anyone asked, he could say the driver was lost and asking for directions.
I’ve got the stuff.
And you thought you should come to my workplace and tell me that? Alan clenched his jaw, holding in his anger.
You never answer your phone, Lombard replied with a shrug.
Alan shook his head and started to walk away, but Lombard got out of the car and caught up to him. Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Alan spun around and glared at the other man, who was significantly shorter than he was.
Get your fucking hand off me, he signed, knocking Lombard’s hand away in the process.
Don’t think you can threaten me, Hunter. I don’t give a shit about your reputation. We had an arrangement, and I came here to tell you I’ve done my side of the deal.
The two men stared each other out for a moment, until Alan took a step back. We’re not going to have a problem, are we? He looked Lombard up and down, his nostrils flaring. He’d kept out of trouble recently, but his fingers were itching for a fight. He’d made a deal with the slippery bastard but he didn’t like him, so he’d be more than happy to give him a kicking.
After a moment of tension, Lombard gave a casual shrug. No, no problem. Let me know when you’re ready to look it over.
He turned and walked off, kicking up gravel as he went. Alan watched him leave and wondered if he was going to regret making this deal.
Chapter 7
Monday 5th February
I was looking after two little girls, and I left them playing nicely in my living room while I went to the kitchen to get them some snacks. Before I could open the cupboard, a terrible scream brought me rushing back through to see a faceless figure standing over them both, a hammer raised above their heads. I watched in horror as the two girls scratched and kicked their attacker, but I couldn’t move or make a sound to stop it.
When my alarm went off I sat bolt upright, sweat dripping off me despite the frost on my window. I rolled over to turn it off, and knocked a glass of water off my bedside table. Swearing, I jumped out of bed and rescued my phone charger from the rapidly spreading puddle. As the nightmare faded, I recognised the two girls for who they were: Lexi and Caitlin.
I checked my work phone, but there were no new calls or messages. Still, I had a busy day ahead of me – Forest had booked me for Jaxon’s interview, followed by a further chat with Laura. After that, I thought, I’d need about twelve hours’ sleep, though I expected I’d get more questions from Anna later. When she’d turned up, I thought she would add to my problems, but it had been nice to have some company last night. I wasn’t sure I wanted her getting involved, but some of the things we’d found out online had set my brain ticking.
Dragging myself to the bathroom, I frowned at the tiny lines forming at the edges of my eyes. I was only thirty, but I was sure I’d gained more wrinkles in the last six months than was natural. I really needed a break, but that wouldn’t happen until Lexi’s case was solved. Forest warned me that they should have the results of the post-mortem by this morning, so they would be telling Laura how Lexi died. How had the local paper got hold of that information so soon? A shiver ran down my spine. Thinking of Laura, I checked my watch and realised I needed to get a move on.
Can I come with you? Anna was standing in the hallway, dressed and ready to go.
I sighed, exasperated. You can’t. You know you can’t.
Please, Paige. I’m her friend who happens to be visiting. That’s all.
It’s Jaxon’s interview first. I can’t just bring you with me.
Her face fell. She won’t be in the interview, will she? Can’t I just wait with her, keep her company? I promise I won’t do anything to mess up your job.
Chewing my bottom lip, I thought about it. It would be good for Laura to have a friend there.
Fine. This is just about you being Laura’s friend, though. Okay?
Of course!
I hated myself for thinking about my reputation at a time like that, but it was too important not to mention. I knew Anna was smart enough not to do anything to jeopardise my career, but I had to make sure. It might be better if we didn’t tell the police she was my sister, but I didn’t know how long I could hide my connection to the family.
I’d been given the address of a different building in town, which the police used when interviewing children and other vulnerable witnesses, and I was jittery by the time we arrived. Whilst I’d spent a little time with Lexi, I didn’t really know Jaxon, and I was used to interpreting for adults. I’d seen him a few times but he’d never acknowledged that he recognised me. Would he respond to me?
DC Singh met us at the door and I introduced Anna by her first name only, explaining that she was Laura’s friend and was going to keep her company while Jaxon was interviewed. He nodded his agreement and led us through to a room where Laura was sitting, desperately trying to get her son’s attention.
When Laura saw Anna, her face lit up, and the two of them hugged for a long time. Anna sat down to talk to her friend, so Singh took me aside.
‘The need for interpreting makes this interview a little complicated. Normally, when we interview children, the officer conducting the interview will be in one room with the child and usually with a social work officer, with a notetaker observing in an adjoining room. We decided it was best to use someone Jaxon is familiar with for communication, and for you to be in the adjoining room, to support the notetaker by interpreting what Jaxon and the communicator are signing. Is that okay?’
I tried to wrap my head around what he’d said. ‘So I’ll be watching, but I won’t be in the room?’
‘Yes.’
‘Who’s communicating for Jaxon?’
Singh nodded his head at the doorway, through which I could see Forest talking to a woman with frizzy hair. ‘That’s Hannah Lachlan. She’s a communication support worker, and she works with Jaxon at school.’
I watched as the woman’s glance darted nervously around her, and I wondered if she’d drawn the short straw. I understood their reasoning for using someone Jaxon already knew, and if I was honest, I felt a bit relieved. I had no idea how Jaxon would respond to me.
Singh led me through to a room with a large window overlooking an interview room. The other room was set up with comfy chairs and a colourful playmat with toy cars on it, as well as a stack of paper next to pots of pencils and crayons. The window fascinated me, knowing that we could see whoever was in the next room, but they couldn’t see us.
Hannah Lachlan also followed us in, and Singh introduced us. A moment later we saw a door open in the other room, and DI Forest led Laura and Jaxon inside.
‘Miss Weston is going to help Jaxon to settle in the room first, before you go in, Mrs Lachlan,’ Singh murmured to us. I wondered if sound could pass through the mirrored glass, or if he was just being cautious.
The communication support worker chewed her lip and nodded. ‘I hope he’s okay. Just thinking about what he might have seen …’ She shivered and her voice tailed off. Tension radiated off her.
‘Have you worked with him long?’ I asked, curious, but also hoping to relax her by getting her talking.
She nodded. ‘About eighteen months now. He’s in a mainstream school, so he needs someone to sign for him all the time. We’re doing our best for him.’ Hannah Lachlan spoke quickly, gabbling and stumbling over her words. She bit her lip again, as if conscious that she shouldn’t say more than was professional.
Singh cleared his throat, then flashed a smile at Hannah Lachlan before escorting her into the next room. At the same time, another woman entered the room I was in and introduced herself as the notetaker. So many people required to take a statement from one six-year-old boy. I hoped it was useful, but I also hoped for Jaxon’s sake that he’d been fast asleep and hadn’t witnessed his sister’s murder.
As I watched Laura leave her son with DI Forest and Hannah Lachlan, Singh joined me again. I was surprised that she was the one conducting the interview, as she was far less approachable than the DC, but she was a higher rank.
‘Jaxon, we want to ask you some questions about Friday night, when your sister Lexi was hurt.’
I watched Hannah Lachlan try to get Jaxon’s attention, but he was looking around the room at the cars. She tried waving, and tapping his arm, but he stubbornly refused to look at her until she moved to kneel in front of him, and even then his eyes slid away from her. She simplified her signing to get the message across, and I interpreted exactly what she had signed for the notetaker.
At first, Jaxon didn’t respond. He grabbed some of the crayons and began to scribble on one of the pieces of paper, holding four crayons together to make a multi-coloured scrawl. He got off the sofa and knelt in front of the table, bending low over the piece of paper. Hannah Lachlan tapped him and signed the question again, shooting a worried look towards DS Forest.
Jaxon slammed the crayons down on the table. I sleep. Lexi sleep. Kasey sleep. Lexi head all blood.
I interpreted this word for word for the notetaker, instead of converting it into a full sentence. BSL has a very different grammatical structure from English, and the meaning of a sign can change depending on how it’s signed or the facial expression used. When interpreting, you use all of the information available to translate it into standard English, exactly as you would if you were interpreting a spoken language. In this case, however, I didn’t want to be accused of adding to the meaning of Jaxon’s statement. While I did this, Hannah Lachlan told Forest what he’d said.
