Lost Innocence (37 page)

Part of him wanted to ask his mother about his father’s affair, but another part would rather die than go there. She should have told him. OK, he kind of understood why she hadn’t, but if she had …

Hearing a knock on the door he said, ‘I don’t want any breakfast, thanks.’

‘It’s me,’ Simon said, putting his head round. ‘OK to come in?’

Forcing himself to sit up, Nat rubbed his face with his hands. ‘Sure,’ he said.

Closing the door, Simon went to sink into one of the beanbags next to Nat’s desk. ‘So, how are you doing?’ he asked.

A bitter smile twisted Nat’s mouth. ‘I’m just great,’ he answered. ‘This is the best, being accused of something I didn’t do.’

Simon regarded him sympathetically. ‘The police came round to see me yesterday,’ he said.

‘They didn’t waste much time.’

Simon shrugged. ‘I told them what she’s like, and how high she was when she followed you into the woods. Oh yeah, and how she dragged that Melody girl off you so she could get in.’

Nat nodded and swallowed a rising knot inside him. ‘So what’s everyone saying?’ he asked. ‘That I did it?’

Simon grimaced. ‘Some,’ he answered honestly, ‘but most reckon she’s lying, and even if she’s not she had it coming.’

Nat’s face turned stony. ‘That really helps,’ he said bitingly.

Looking chastened, Simon said, ‘So what
did
happen when she followed you? She’s got bruises on her face, apparently …’

‘I don’t want to keep going over it,’ Nat interrupted. ‘She’s lying, all right?’

‘Yeah, well, I know that, but what grounds is she basing this on? They’re not going to…’

‘We had a scene, OK? She really wound me up, and somehow she ended up on the ground and I grabbed her
round the neck. It was a seriously dumb thing to do, and when I realised what I was doing I backed off. Then she started going on about screwing her again, so I told her I don’t do sluts and walked off. That’s when she said she was going to tell everyone I raped her. Obviously she doesn’t like being called a slut. Did you see her again after I’d gone?’

‘I think so, from a distance. She was with that friend of hers, Georgie.’

‘What were they doing?’

‘Drinking, dancing a bit…’

Nat’s eyes narrowed. ‘She was dancing after I’m supposed to have raped her?’ he said scathingly. ‘That doesn’t sound like someone who’s suffering, does it? Did you tell the police that?’

‘Sure. I figured it was something they’d want to know, and that it would help you.’ Simon’s eyes started to shift a little. ‘Between us, mate, with all the booze and stuff it’s kind of hard to remember exactly what happened when. I mean, I know I saw her, but to be honest, it might have been before she followed you. The police don’t need to know that though, do they? All that matters is getting you out of this mess.’

‘How are you feeling this morning?’ Sabrina asked, going to open Annabelle’s curtains.

‘OK, I think,’ Annabelle answered, turning on to her back. ‘What time is it?’

‘Almost midday. Are you hungry?’

‘I don’t know.’

Sabrina went to sit next to her and smoothed the hair back from her face. ‘Are you hurting at all?’ she asked.

‘Not really. I mean, a bit.’ She frowned and closed her eyes as though her head ached.

As Sabrina watched her she was thinking of Craig and what he’d be doing if he were here. Knowing he would almost certainly defend his son made her heart churn with awful emotions. It was too painful to imagine them being torn apart by something like this.

Eventually Annabelle opened her eyes, and Sabrina smiled
at her tenderly. ‘Would you like to stay in bed for today?’ she asked. ‘It’ll probably do you good to get some rest.’

Annabelle nodded. ‘Yeah, maybe,’ she said faintly.

Leaning forward to kiss her forehead, Sabrina rose to her feet.

‘Mum?’ Annabelle said, as Sabrina reached the door.

‘Mm?’ she answered, turning round.

Annabelle’s face started to crumple. ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ she wept. ‘I mean, maybe a bit of it was at first, but I didn’t expect him to…’

‘Sssh,’ Sabrina soothed, coming back to the bed to comfort her, ‘whatever you did, even if you sent out the wrong signals because you’d had too much to drink, what he did can never be your fault.’

Annabelle sniffed, and looked at her with big, haunted eyes.

‘Would you like me to sit with you until you fall asleep?’ Sabrina offered.

‘No, it’s OK. I’ll be fine.’

After kissing her again Sabrina picked up a cup containing the dregs of a drink and three cigarette ends, but deciding now wasn’t the time for discipline, she simply took it away.

As soon as the door closed behind her Annabelle fished out the mobile Georgie had left with her and called Theo. ‘Have the police been yet?’ she asked when he answered.

‘They’ve just left, and don’t worry, I said exactly what you told me to.’

‘Great. Thanks. What about this Neil guy, do you know him?’

‘Never heard of him, why?’

‘It doesn’t matter. I’ll work it out. Is everyone still going to Wells on Friday night?’

‘Yeah, but I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to come too.’

‘Why not? I’m not an invalid.’

‘No, but you’re underage and no one wants to risk it again. Come back when you’re a grown-up, Annabelle,’ and the line went dead.

* * *

Jolyon looked up as his wife put her head round his office door. Beckoning her in he said into the phone, ‘I’m sorry, Alicia, there’s nothing more I can tell you at this stage. The police have to gather evidence and take statements…’

‘But they wouldn’t have to if they waited for the results of the DNA,’ Alicia protested. ‘The whole village is being questioned…’

‘I know it must be difficult, but they have to follow procedure.’

With an anguished sigh, Alicia said, ‘I know, and I’m sorry to bother you. It’s just that I’m going out of my mind here. Rumours are flying, people are already taking sides, and Nat won’t leave the house.’

Saddened, but not surprised to hear that, Jolyon said, ‘How is he today?’

‘A very good question. I’ve no idea. He won’t speak to me. At least not about how he is, or what’s going on.’

Feeling for her frustration, he said, ‘It’ll be over soon enough. The results are due back tomorrow, so we should have more information by Thursday, Friday at the latest.’

‘Should I expect a call? How will I find out?’

‘You might not know anything until Nat answers his bail on Monday, but I’ll do my best to get something out of them before that.’

‘Thank you,’ she said warmly. ‘Actually, there’s one other thing, before you go. I’m afraid it might take me a while to pay you…’

‘Put that out of your mind now,’ Jolyon interrupted.

‘But…’

‘No arguments.’

‘Thank you,’ she said again, and after apologising once more for being a nuisance she rang off.

‘I take it that was Alicia,’ Marianne Crane said, as Jolyon put the phone down. She was a slight, pale-skinned woman in her early forties, with a neat auburn bob, intense dark eyes and a lively smile.

‘It was,’ he confirmed, ‘working herself up into a bit of a state, I’m afraid.’

‘With something like this hanging over her, I’m not surprised. Have there been any developments since yesterday?’

‘Who do you think would tell me if there had?’ he said sardonically.

‘Oh, I know you, Jolyon Crane,’ she teased, ‘a spy in every camp.’

‘And don’t you forget it,’ he warned playfully. ‘So what brings you to Small Street in the middle of the afternoon? No babies coming into the world today?’

‘None that are scheduled,’ she replied, going to the window to find out what all the fuss was about outside. ‘Is there a big case going on over at the court?’ she asked. ‘The press seem to be gathering.’

‘One of the Bristol City players is up for assault,’ he answered. ‘So, what are you going to do with your time off, Mrs Crane?’

‘Go shopping, I think, until my husband is ready to take me for dinner. I fancy the Hotel du Vin, if that’s OK with you?’

Since it was less than a five-minute walk from his office, on the edge of the city centre, he had no problem agreeing.

After she’d gone, he continued mulling over the unfortunate situation Nathan Carlyle had managed to get himself into. He’d been in this job long enough to know how grief could unhinge people, and drive them to behave in ways they never would otherwise – in fact, his files, and the nation’s prisons, were full of them. Not that he thought Nat had raped the girl, but he had it on good authority (DS Bevan during an off-the-record chat outside the courts that morning) that Annabelle had told Nat about Craig’s affair with her mother during the build-up to the disputed encounter. There was no doubt in Jolyon’s mind that this had played a big part in tipping Nat over the edge into trying to throttle the girl, and it was almost certainly why the lad was finding it so hard to talk to his mother. He hadn’t even been able to mention it to Jolyon yesterday, which told Jolyon how hard the boy must be struggling with this suddenly tarnished view of his sainted father’s character.

With a sigh, Jolyon turned back to his computer and called up the notes he’d taken the day before to go over them again. He’d got no further than the first page when his secretary announced a call from Oliver Mendenhall.

Picking up the phone, Jolyon swivelled in his chair to face the window. ‘Oliver,’ he said, to Craig’s former colleague in chambers.

‘I got your message about Nathan,’ Oliver told him. ‘How’s it looking?’

‘To be frank, I’m worried,’ Jolyon answered. ‘The DNA results are due back tomorrow, but whatever they are, given the girl’s age, and the history between the two mothers, I have a nasty feeling this isn’t going to go away easily.’

‘Then we’ll have to make it,’ Mendenhall stated.

Lisa Murray was in the back garden of the red-brick semi she shared with Detective Sergeant Clive Bevan, whose divorce was still pending in the acrimony tray. The house, which she’d managed to buy with a small inheritance from her gran and a hefty mortgage, was in the Bradley Stoke area of Bristol, whose dubious claim to fame was being one of the largest private housing estates in the country, or certainly in the South West.

Since it was a lovely balmy evening Lisa was setting the table on the patio in preparation for a barbecue she and Clive were hosting for a few friends from outside the force. It did them both good to get away from the job whenever they could, even though the conversation invariably found its way round to the cases they were working on – no names mentioned – since Joe Public’s fascination with crime seemed to have no saturation point.

Hearing the front door slam shut, she finished clipping the tablecloth in place and went back inside for the plates.

‘Hey,’ she said, as Bevan came into the kitchen looking hot, tired and unusually dishevelled for him. ‘Bad day?’

‘You could say that,’ he answered, coming to kiss her briefly on the mouth. ‘The psycho footballer got off with a fine, some idiot cameraman nearly knocked me out with his sodding camera, my soon-to-be-ex-wife has raided the joint account and taken the lot, and the statements coming out of the teenage contingent of the Holly Wood case are a bigger load of bunkum than those soaps you watch.’

‘Let me pour you a drink,’ she said soothingly.

‘Make it a stiff one,’ he responded, tugging off his tie. ‘What time’s everyone arriving?’

‘Not until eight, so plenty of time to relax and shower. Go and sit in the garden. I’ll bring the drinks out.’

A few minutes later they were lounging side by side on a swinging hammock chair, absorbing the earthy smell of gardens recently watered and the mouth-watering drift of someone else’s barbecue.

‘So,’ she said, ‘what’s new in the Holly Wood case?’ With a protracted sigh he said, ‘They’re having the devil of a time tracking everyone down, as you might imagine, but going by the statements so far we don’t have any witnesses to the actual event. What is becoming clear though, is that our Annabelle and her chums are a pretty racy bunch, who go in for all kinds of stuff, from partner swapping, to topless parties, to spit-roasting…’

‘Spit-roasting?’

He cocked an eyebrow. ‘Think about it.’

She did, and as the image of two boys either end of one girl came into her mind her eyes closed. ‘Delightful,’ she murmured.

He grinned. ‘So you’re not up for it?’

She glanced at him sideways. ‘I could be, if you managed to clone yourself,’ she challenged.

‘Is the right answer,’ he laughed, and kissed her.

‘Anyway, it’s all hearsay and to a large degree irrelevant,’ he continued. ‘CSI on the other hand have turned up a couple of interesting items in the woods, not the least of which was a girl’s thong.’

Lisa’s eyebrows rose, already guessing where this might be going.

‘It’s been sent to the labs for analysis,’ he continued, ‘but I’m thinking of Nathan Carlyle’s claim that our Annabelle wasn’t wearing any underwear, so, presuming he’s telling the truth and didn’t take it off her himself – and she’s not saying he did, so I guess we can count that out – did she turn up to the party like that, or did it come off when she was making out with one of the other two and she didn’t bother to put it back on again?’

‘And I’m thinking,’ Lisa said, ‘that there was a thong
among the clothing Annabelle brought with her when she came to the suite.’

Bevan nodded. ‘So either the one being tested isn’t hers, or it is, and she popped another in from the laundry basket at home. I guess we’ll know soon enough. Now, I’m going upstairs to shower, then I’ll come back down and get the barbecue going.’

After he’d gone Lisa continued swinging in the chair for a while, mulling over their conversation and her initial instincts regarding Annabelle Preston. While the girl was beautiful, and, like most teenagers, probably a great deal more full of herself with her peers than she’d exhibited yesterday at the suite, Lisa had sensed a genuine vulnerability about her that was far more in keeping with her age than her rumoured behaviour. The mother had interested Lisa, too. Another beauty with cracks beneath the surface, was Lisa’s opinion, and she couldn’t help wondering if the mother’s inner problems were connected to the affair Annabelle had told Nathan Carlyle about on Saturday night.