Janine held up her hands, shaking her head. ‘I can’t talk to you about that,’ she said gently.
‘It doesn’t change anything,’ Debbie said simply. ‘If you convict them – she’s still…’ She took a deep breath. ‘I want something good to come from this…’
Chris sprang to his feet, headed out of the room. Janine signalled for Butchers to follow. ‘I keep forgetting,’ Debbie said. ‘How daft is that? I keep thinking where’s Ann-Marie, is she in her room, or I’d better get her dance kit ready and then I remember. Over and over.’
Janine nodded. All she could do was listen, sit there and listen and thank God that she wasn’t Debbie Chinley.
*****
Chris Chinley paced the kitchen looking out of place. Too raw for the neat white and jade units, the grey marble worktop and the fridge with its assortment of magnets.
‘Something good,’ he mimicked, ‘what possible good… that bastard is out there… drawing breath.’ He paused rubbing his large hands over his face, over the stubble and the shadows that made his eyes appear sunken.
The dog under the table raised its head and gave a whine. Chinley ignored it.
He spoke again. ‘You lot talk about promising leads and making progress.’
‘It’s not just talk,’ Butchers insisted.
‘You’ve got him?’ Butchers saw the hope flare in Chinley’s eyes. ‘Where is he? At the station?’
If only! Butchers looked away, his jaw clenched, betraying his own frustration. Stone should have been locked up tight and waiting for due process to kick in. There were times when he loathed the constraints of the job, the way the scallies played the system and won. Times when he felt screwed by the rules and regulations and the cowardice of the great British public who banged on endlessly about crime but ran a mile if they were asked to help do anything about it.
Chinley rounded on him, appalled. ‘Still out there?’ Almost a whisper, his arm pointing, his face vivid with disbelief. ‘Still out there?’ he repeated.
Butchers swallowed, felt a wave of shame. This man deserved better.
‘Who is he?’ Chinley moved closer to Butchers. ‘Who is it? Who killed my Ann-Marie?’
Butchers shook his head; he felt the sweat break out on his upper body, his heartbeat sprint.
‘Please?’ Chinley whispered, his eyes locked onto Butchers’, eyes spiked with pain.
*****
Janine wriggled out of her coat in the hall. Eleanor appeared from the front room.
‘How was school?’ Janine asked as they went along the hallway.
‘’Kay. I got an A in geography.’
