The Aftermath (The Hurricane, #2)(48)

“I don’t know. We didn’t discuss it,” she answered without feeling. “I thought she would be pleased. Frank really did love her. He tried very hard to be a good father.”

“In what way?” the barrister asked.

“He was always buying her gifts and lots of pretty dresses. When he wasn’t at work he spent every minute he could with her.”

“And you were resentful of all the attention and affection that he lavished on her?”

She swallowed and looked down again. “Of course not. She was a young girl without a father. It was only natural that she’d need him as much as I did.” It was the most unconvincing answer she’d given so far. We might not have any physical evidence, but the barrister was doing a pretty good job of painting Frank as some sick pedophile who’d targeted her mum as a way to get to Em. It made me sick to my stomach to imagine how it played out.

“And in the years following your marriage to Mr. Thomas, did you ever see him hit or punish your daughter in any way?” She looked down again. Surely I wasn’t the only one seeing that this was what she did when she was lying. “He disciplined her. As she grew up, she became more willful and disobedient. I wasn’t equipped to deal with a teenager so Frank handled it.” Frank’s face twisted ever so slightly, and it was clear he wasn’t happy with how she’d phrased that.

“In what way did Frank discipline Emily?” The barrister asked. She swallowed again, and I clenched and unclenched my hands to stop me calling her out on all these f*cking lies.

“He would ground her mostly. Confiscate things if she was really bad. Send her to her room. The usual way of punishing teenagers, I guess,” she replied so quietly I had trouble hearing her.

“Let me be clear then. You are telling the court that at no point did you ever see or hear Frank strike or beat Emily. I would remind you that you’re under oath,” he pressed her.

She shook her head.

“Please state your answer to the court,” the judge directed her.

“No, I never saw or heard him beat or strike her.”

“And the night of the alleged rape. What is your account of what happened?”

She looked briefly toward Frank, and he gave her a tiny nod. You’d miss it if you weren’t looking.

“We’d had a disagreement. She wanted to go out to a party. We didn’t want her wandering around at that time of night, so Frank offered to drive her there and pick her up. We argued about a curfew. She hadn’t even turned eighteen yet, and we felt that midnight was a reasonable hour to be home. She didn’t agree and argued with us. I don’t remember exactly what was said but eventually she walked out, still in her school uniform, and slammed the door behind her.”

“What happened then?”

“Frank wanted to go after her but I convinced him to let her calm down. She came home a couple of hours later, and her uniform was all torn up. Her face was bruised and beaten but she wouldn’t tell us what happened. She just kept screaming at Frank that it was all his fault. If he hadn’t been laying down the law, it would never have happened. She was yelling that she wanted to go back to when it was just me and her. Frank went over to try and calm her down and she scratched his face like a wildcat. One of the neighbors must have heard her and called the police. When they turned up and saw the state of Frank’s face, they took him in for questioning.”

“Well, that is a very elaborate story, Mrs. Thomas,” the barrister responded. “I understand that following the rape you were estranged from your daughter, is that right?”

“Yes. Not by choice, but yes.”

She spoke softly, and it was really beginning to piss me off. If you’re going to stab someone in the back, do it with conviction.

“May I ask then how you knew anything about Emily’s life after leaving your house?”

“We understood that she wanted some space so we left her alone but my husband hired a private investigator.”

“And you didn’t think that was a breach of her privacy at all?”

“No. We didn’t contact her, we just wanted to know that she was all right.”

“And once you had this information, did you dispense with the services of your investigator?”

“Yes,” she said glancing up at Frank.

“And when she was kidnapped, how did you find out that she was gone?”

“The police telephoned me to tell me that she’d been taken and to ask if I knew where Frank was.”

“Is it true that your husband is a probation officer?” he asked.

“Yes, that’s right.”

“And before that, what did he do?”

“He was a policeman,” she told the court.

“And were you aware of Mr. Thomas retaining any of his contacts or friendships from his time with the police force?”

“I don’t know. I don’t really keep track of who my husband’s friend are.”

“I understand, Mrs. Thomas. Finally, I would like to know whether you have ever seen or heard Mr. Thomas touch or speak to Emily in a way that would be considered inappropriate for a father with his biological daughter?” The bitch didn’t look at me or Frank once. She looked straight at the barrister and crucified her daughter.

“No, I didn’t.” The barrister had no further questions, and the judge dismissed us for a break.