I Am Watching You(38)
‘I want to get in touch with my lawyer.’
‘I thought you hadn’t done anything wrong and didn’t need a lawyer.’ The tone is pure sarcasm.
‘Well, I want my lawyer now. I know my rights and I’m not speaking to anyone until I get my lawyer.’
‘Okey doke. Duly noted. But we’re in charge in here and you’ll have to wait.’
Henry holds his stare through the grille. ‘I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Course you haven’t.’
Two hours pass, forcing Henry to face the humiliation of using the nasty open-plan toilet, praying for no movement of the viewing grille as he does so.
He has insisted on his own lawyer rather than a duty solicitor, which is apparently slowing things down.
When eventually he is given time alone with Adam Benson, who until now has only ever handled property matters and his will, Henry realises the severity of his situation and miscalculation. Adam is upfront about his limited experience handling criminal proceedings. Henry says he wants no one else involved. Adam’s advice is simple: Tell me the truth. Trust me.
‘Is there something you need to tell me, Henry? Because if there is, I would strongly recommend you do that now, so I can get on to some contacts who are better placed to handle your situation.’
The truth?
Henry pictures Anna sitting alongside him in the car. Her ashen face. You disgust me.
Henry can feel his bottom lip wobbling as he is led into the interview room with Adam already seated inside, opposite the wretched DI from London. The man Henry so despises.
‘You can’t hold me here. I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing illegal.’
‘You pointed a shotgun at one of my officers, Mr Ballard. We call that threatening behaviour.’
‘You broke into my barn. I was startled. I was protecting my property.’
‘We broke in after you telephoned us in a very agitated state, Mr Ballard, demanding to speak to DS Melanie Sanders. We broke in to prevent you from doing yourself or others harm. You know that and I know that, so how about we drop this nonsense about trespass. Save us all a lot of time.’
Adam turns his head, wide-eyed, and nods encouragement to Henry.
‘I was distressed. It got on top of me. Anna’s disappearance.’ Henry can hear his heart pounding and tries to calm his expression. He suddenly very much wants to be home, to say sorry to Barbara and most especially to Jenny for the scene at the barn. All the shouting. The stand-off. Poor Sammy barking furiously outside. The mess. This whole terrible mess. He also wants to speak to Melanie Sanders, not this prat from London.
‘Why can’t I speak to DS Melanie Sanders?’ When he phoned from the barn he had said he would speak to her. Only her.
‘She’s not working at the moment. We told you that when you phoned us . . . Now then. The last time we spoke formally . . . before this recent incident . . .’ The inspector is staring down at some paperwork. Henry assumes it is the statement from his last interview, the one after the TV appeal. ‘You gave us your second version of where you were the night Anna went missing. So the current story is that your car was left near the railway station for most of the night because you had a bit too much to drink and decided to sleep in the back.’
‘That’s right.’
‘And that’s what you told your wife? The reason you asked her to lie for you?’
‘Yes. I was embarrassed to have got so plastered. I didn’t think it would look good.’
‘But here’s my problem, Mr Ballard. We’ve spoken again to the witnesses who phoned in after our television appeal programme, and they didn’t see anyone asleep in the back of the car.’
‘Maybe they just didn’t see me because I was lying down. Or maybe they saw the car before I walked back to it from the pub.’
‘Ah yes – the pub. The Lion’s Head. Now, here’s my other problem. I’m wondering, you see, why you didn’t park in the pub car park. Also – no one at the Lion’s Head seems to remember you being in that night.’
‘It was busy. The car park and the pub. Packed, actually. Why would they notice me?’
Beneath the desk, Henry can feel his palms all sweaty suddenly, and wipes them on his trousers. He turns to his solicitor who is writing things down, and wonders what the notes are for. He looks across at the black box recording the interview and wonders if they will get a transcript. The problem with lying, he is learning, is that you have to remember the details of the lie. To make them match each time. Each new version is making it more difficult.
‘How well do you know your daughter’s friend Sarah?’ The detective inspector has leaned forward suddenly and is closely monitoring his response.
‘I don’t know what you mean. She’s Anna’s best friend. Has been for years. She comes around the house a lot, just as all her friends do. We’ve always made them welcome.’
‘And when did you last see Sarah, Mr Ballard?’
‘Excuse me?’
CHAPTER 24
THE FRIEND
Sarah is thinking about singing. One of the key things she quickly found she had in common with Anna – beyond the two-ball obsession of those early days – was singing. They were in the choir at primary school together and loved it. Then, in secondary school, they joined the musical theatre group together.