David Jackson - Marked

He stops again. Looks at her with more than a hint of annoyance. Stands up.

‘Five minutes,’ he says. ‘I’ll give him five minutes.’

Thanks, she thinks. For your precious time.

She lets Steve push past her without a word, then follows him into the living room. Doyle is looking at her. He knows something is up, she thinks. She gives him a smile that is meant to say, No problem. We’re all pulling together here . But she knows he’s not deceived.

They all sit down. Nicole takes the sofa. Doyle takes the chair opposite — the same one he sat in last time. She hopes that Steve will come and sit next to her, but he doesn’t. He perches himself on the arm of another chair. A clear signal that he doesn’t intend to hang around.

‘First of all,’ says Doyle, ‘I just want you to know that we’re working flat out on this case. It’s our top priority.’

‘I should think so,’ says Steve. ‘A young girl hacked to pieces like that, why wouldn’t you pull out all the stops?’

Nicole glances at Steve, but he seems not to notice. She wonders if she did the right thing, bringing him into this room.

She shifts her gaze back to Doyle. Searches his face for signs of irritation. She is relieved to find that he seems unperturbed.

Don’t ruin this, Steve. We need this man.

‘You’re absolutely right,’ says Doyle. ‘It’s a natural assumption. Why wouldn’t we want to catch this lunatic? But I also know that most families of victims don’t want to be left alone to assume things. Sometimes they like to hear us put it into words.’

There, Steve. See? They’re doing their best. Don’t give him a hard time.

‘We don’t want words,’ says Steve. ‘We want action. We want you to get the bastard.’

Shut up, Steve. Shut up! You’re not helping.

‘Of course you do,’ says Doyle. ‘I understand.’

‘Do you? Then you’ll understand if I don’t want to answer any more questions. I already told the cops everything I know. It’s all in your files. Go read them, catch the guy, then you can come back.’

Steve pushes himself up from the chair’s arm. Nicole thinks he’s about to escort Doyle to the door, but he doesn’t. He disappears into the kitchen again. She hears the slam of the door to the garage.

She looks at Doyle. ‘I’m sorry. He’s. . he’s not dealing with this very well.’

Still Doyle does not appear concerned. ‘It’s okay. You’ve both been through the worst kind of ordeal. Different people react in different ways. Give him time.’

She blinks. Give him time? The advice surprises her, but maybe he’s right. Megan’s body has only just been discovered. Steve needs time to come to terms with that.

‘Do you. . do you have any news? On the investigation?’

‘Nothing significant yet. We’re looking into all the possibilities. The reason I came here, I want to be sure I got all the facts right.’

‘Okay. Sure. What can I tell you?’

‘According to the Missing Persons report, Megan told you she was going out with some friends of hers last Saturday. Is that right?’

‘Yes. Three of her girlfriends from school. She said they were going to see a movie.’

‘But the girls never saw her on that day?’

‘No. They didn’t even know about any arrangements to meet up.’

‘You spoke with them?’

‘Yes. I met with each of them, and their parents.’

‘And did you believe them? You don’t think they were trying to cover anything up?’

She blinks. The thought has never occurred to her. She has met the girls countless times. They seem like good girls. What would they be covering up?

‘No. Why do you ask? Do you think they might be?’

‘I don’t think anything, Mrs Hamlyn. I’m just filling in all the gaps. We’ll talk to the girls ourselves. I just want to know what your thoughts are.’

She wonders then about the nature of Doyle’s job. He’s a cynic, because he wouldn’t be doing his job if he wasn’t. He’s trained to be suspicious of everyone, to question everything. It must be hard to live like that — in constant distrust.

‘I don’t think the girls were lying.’

‘Did Megan often lie to you?’

She wants to take offense at this. She opens her mouth, ready to ask him what the hell he means by making such an accusation. She stops when she sees on Doyle’s face that there is no spitefulness in the question. He’s calling it as he sees it. Megan said she was going to the movie theater, and she didn’t. It was a lie. No other word for it.

‘Do you have any children, Detective Doyle?’

‘Yes. A daughter.’

‘How old?’

‘Only seven.’

‘Does she ever tell lies to you?’

She sees a small smile of recognition tug at the corner of Doyle’s mouth. ‘Sometimes. She’s not very good at it, though.’

‘She’ll get better with practice. Kids always lie to their parents. Or they simply withhold information. It’s part of growing up. It’s their way of rebelling, of gaining independence. Didn’t you lie to your parents?’

She gets another smile, and presses on: ‘Of course you did. We all do. We mean no harm by it, and usually no harm is done. But sometimes, just sometimes, there are consequences that go way beyond what we can imagine.’

‘Tell me about the tattoo,’ says Doyle. ‘Did you argue about it?’

‘We had some conversations about it. Occasionally it got a little heated. Megan had wanted a tattoo ever since she was thirteen. We told her she was too young, and that if she wanted one she would have to wait until she was eighteen.’

‘How’d she take it?’

‘Not well, but we thought she’d accepted it. We thought she’d wait.’

She watches Doyle as he thinks about her answer.

‘You keep coming back to the tattoo,’ she says. ‘Why?’

‘It was done during her disappearance. Whoever did it saw her after you did and before the killer did. There could be something important there.’

‘But you don’t know who made the tattoo?’

‘Not yet, but we’re looking.’

There’s something in the way he says those words that don’t quite ring right to Nicole. There’s something there he’s not telling her.

‘Do you have any suspects yet?’

He shakes his head. ‘Not yet. But it’s early days.’

Again, something in his voice. She can’t put her finger on it, but it’s there, and its presence irritates her. Makes her question the faith she has placed in this man.

Or is it because he is so committed to this case and this family that he is unable to keep his suspicions buried as well as he should? Maybe that’s it. He desperately wants to tell her something, but his job doesn’t allow it. Maybe she’s not wrong about him at all.

Before she can pursue it, Doyle changes the subject: ‘Was Megan in the habit of going to the East Village on her own?’

‘No. I don’t know that she ever went there before.’

‘What about Manhattan generally?’

‘Not on her own. With friends or with us, sure.’

‘But once she was there, did you ever let her off the leash? Give her some space to do her own thing?’

‘Well. .’

‘Go on.’

‘Steve, he’s an accountant. He’s based here in Queens, but sometimes he goes to meetings at the head office in the city. Now and again, Megan would go with him. She would go shopping, then they would get together after his meeting and he would bring her back.’

‘Okay.’

‘I. . It was shopping. For a couple of hours. That’s all.’

‘It’s all right. I’m not judging you, okay? I’m just trying to work out how she ended up where she did. Maybe she went there, maybe someone took her there. Maybe she had no intention of even going to Manhattan when she left here. If I can figure that out, then maybe I can get a handle on how she met the tattooist.’