Close to Home (DI Adam Fawley #1)(25)
*
The social worker is a man. Don’t know why that surprises me, but it does – somehow I always assume it’ll be a woman. But when I watch him with Leo on the video feed, I realize a bloke is actually a much better idea. In five minutes they’re on football, and in ten we’ve established that Chelsea are going to win the League again next season, Wayne Rooney is overrated and Louis van Gaal has funny hair. When I open the door and go in to join them, Leo’s looking more like a normal kid than I’ve ever seen him.
‘So, Leo, I just need to ask you a couple of quick questions about Tuesday afternoon, is that OK?’
He stiffens and I curse inwardly.
‘It’s nothing to worry about. You want to get your sister home safe, don’t you?’
He nods then, but he doesn’t do it straight away, and he doesn’t look at me either. He reaches across and picks up the can of Coke Gareth Quinn gave him and starts playing with it. You don’t need to be a child psychologist to work out there’s some sort of displacement going on here. Or that the truth – whatever it is – is troubling him. And yet here am I, crashing in with my lead boots on. ‘You walked home from school with Daisy that day, am I right?’
He nods. ‘Mum was too busy.’ His head is still down. I can scarcely see him behind the heavy dark fringe.
‘Did you walk home together all the way?’
He nods again.
‘Are you sure? Because we thought you might have had some sort of a fight.’
He looks at me now. ‘Who told you that?’
‘Your mum. She said you and Daisy came home separately. She thought you must have had an argument.’
Back to the Coke can again. ‘She saw some stupid butterfly and she wanted me to take a picture of it, but I wouldn’t.’
‘Why not? Doesn’t seem much to ask. Because she didn’t have a phone herself, did she?’
‘Mum wouldn’t let her.’
‘So why didn’t you take the picture?’
He shrugs. ‘Dunno.’
‘So what happened then?’
‘I left her there looking at it. I told her we had to get home because of the party and Mum would be angry, but she wouldn’t come. So I left her there.’
‘I see.’
I leave a pause, then, ‘So you support Chelsea, do you?’
He flashes me a quick look, then nods. He has beautiful violet-blue eyes, and incredibly long lashes. There’s something elfin about his face I can’t put my finger on.
‘One of my DCs supports Chelsea. Mad about them, he is. Who’s your favourite player?’
‘Eden Hazard.’
‘He’s the Belgian one, yes? Where does he play?’
‘He’s in midfield.’
‘Is that where you play?’
‘Dad says I’d be better off sticking to defence. He says I’m not quick enough for midfield.’
‘Does your dad take you to games?’
‘No. He says it costs too much and takes too much time to get there.’
‘London’s not that far away, surely?’
A shrug. ‘I went once with Ben and his dad. We beat Stoke three-nil. It was really good. He got me a scarf.’
‘Ben’s your best friend?’
Another shrug. ‘He used to be but he moved.’
‘So who’s your best friend now?’
Silence.
I’m beginning to realize just how lonely this kid is. Part of me wants to reach out and hold him and make it all better. But I can’t. Because the other part of me is about to make it worse. Sometimes, I bloody hate this job.
‘Leo, I’ve got a bit of a problem and I need you to help me with it.’
He’s staring intently at the empty can now, and his right leg is jigging up and down. I exchange a glance with the social worker.
‘You see, my problem is that your mum says Daisy got home quite a bit before you on Tuesday. Which doesn’t really make sense if you say you left her behind looking at the butterfly. Do you see what I mean?’
A pause and a nod – barely a movement at all. His cheeks are red now.
‘You just need to tell me what happened, that’s all. You’re not in any trouble.’
The social worker leans forward and puts his hand gently on Leo’s arm. ‘It’s OK, Leo. You can tell the police officer. It’s always better to tell the truth, eh?’
And that’s how it all comes out.
*
Gislingham pushes open the door of the Year Four classroom. The afternoon sun is streaming in through the windows, falling slantwise on a poster of the alphabet in animals, and a banner saying WHAT WE ARE GOING TO DO IN THE HOLIDAYS. Under it the children have written things and stuck pictures to them, cut out of magazines. Two or three are going to Disneyland, one to New Zealand. Daisy appears to be most excited about going on a ferry for the first time, and Nanxi Chen will be visiting her cousins in New York. But at this precise moment she’s sitting with Kate Madigan and Verity Everett, in the far corner of the room.
Gislingham beckons to Everett, who gets up and comes over. He lowers his voice. ‘I left a message for the boss. They’re interviewing the boy right now.’ He glances at his watch. ‘Sod it, I’m supposed to pick up Janet in twenty minutes. It’s her eighteen-week scan.’