Dolores Redondo - The Invisible Guardian

‘What about pubic hair arranged around the body?’ asked Amaia.

‘We didn’t find that either, but you should keep in mind that Carla Huarte’s body was found in the river, submerged from her ankles to her thighs, and there had been torrential rain in the days following her disappearance. If there was anything, the rain would have washed it away.’

‘Didn’t you remember this case when you examined the girl yesterday?’ Amaia turned to the forensic scientist.

‘Of course,’ agreed San Martín, ‘but it’s not that simple, they’re only similarities. Do you have any idea how many bodies I see in the space of a year? There are common elements in many cases that are entirely unconnected. Anyway, yes, I did think of this case, but I needed to consult my notes from the autopsy before saying anything. In Carla’s case, everything pointed to a sexual assault by her boyfriend. The girl had alcohol and all kinds of drugs in her system, several love bites on her neck and a bite mark on her chest that matched the boyfriend’s dental imprint. We also found suspicious fragments of skin under her nails that matched a deep scratch on his neck.’

‘Did you find traces of semen?’

‘No.’

‘What did the boy have to say for himself? And what’s his name, by the way?’ asked Montes.

‘He’s called Miguel Ángel de Andrés. He told me he’d been drinking and had also taken cocaine and ecstasy, and I’m inclined to believe him,’ Aguirre smiled. ‘We arrested him on the sixth of January, during the Reyes Magos Epiphany celebrations and he was as high as a kite then, too. He tested positive for four different drugs including cocaine.’

‘So where’s this little treasure now?’ asked Amaia.

‘He was refused bail and is on remand in the prison in Pamplona, awaiting trial for sexual assault and murder … He’s got previous drug-related convictions,’ said Aguirre.

‘I think this calls for a trip to the prison to question Miguel Ángel de Andrés again, don’t you? Perhaps he wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t kill the girl.’

‘Could you give us a copy of Carla Huarte’s autopsy report, Dr San Martín?’asked Montes.

‘Of course.’

‘What we’re most interested in are the photos taken at the scene.’

‘I’ll get them to you ASAP.’

‘And it’s probably worth inspecting the girl’s clothes again now we know what to look for,’ added Amaia.

‘Inspector Iriarte and Deputy Inspector Zabalza are leading the investigation at the station in Elizondo,’ intervened the Commissioner. ‘That’s where you’re from originally, isn’t it, Inspector Salazar?’

Amaia nodded.

‘They’ll give you all the help you need,’ said the Commissioner and he got to his feet, bringing the meeting to an end.

The boy sitting opposite her was slightly hunched over as if he were carrying a heavy load on his shoulders, his hands were resting loosely on his knees, hundreds of tiny red capillaries showed through the skin of his face, and there were deep, dark circles under his eyes. Nothing like the photo Amaia remembered seeing in the papers a month earlier, in which he was posing defiantly next to his car. There was no trace of his former self-assurance or cocky pose and he looked visibly older. When Amaia and Jonan Etxaide entered the interview room, the boy had been staring at a point in the middle distance from which he found it difficult to return.

‘Hello, Miguel Ángel.’

He didn’t answer. He sighed and looked at them in silence.

‘I’m Inspector Salazar and this,’ she gestured to Jonan, ‘is Deputy Inspector Etxaide. We want to talk to you about Carla Huarte.’

He lifted his head and, as if overwhelmed by immense fatigue, muttered, ‘I have nothing to say, everything I have to tell you is in my statement … There’s nothing to add, it’s the truth, there’s nothing to add, I didn’t kill her and that’s a fact, there’s nothing to add, leave me in peace and talk to my lawyer.’

He hung his head again and focused all his attention on his pale, dry hands.

‘Right,’ said Amaia with a sigh, ‘I can see that we haven’t got off to a good start. Let’s try again. I don’t think you killed Carla.’

Miguel Ángel looked up, surprised this time.

‘I think she was alive when you left the mountain, and I think that someone else approached her later and killed her.’

‘That’s …’ Miguel Ángel stammered, ‘that’s what must have happened.’ Fat tears poured down his face as he started to tremble. ‘Yes, that’s what must have happened, because I didn’t kill her, please believe me, I didn’t kill her.’

‘I believe you,’ said Amaia, sliding a packet of paper tissues across the table towards him. ‘I believe you and I’m going to help you get out of here.’

The boy clasped his hands together as if praying.

‘Please, please,’ he muttered.

‘But first, you have to help me,’ she said, almost sweetly. He dried his tears but was still snivelling as he nodded. ‘Tell me about Carla. What was she like?’

‘Carla was great, she was an amazing girl, really pretty, really outgoing, she had a lot of friends …’

‘How did you meet?’

‘At school. I’d already left and I work … until all this happened I worked with my brother, tarring roofs. It suited me, and it was money in my pocket; it’s a shitty job but it’s well paid. She was still studying; she was repeating a year, though, and wanted to drop out, but her parents insisted and she gave in.’

‘You’ve said she had a lot of friends, do you know whether she was seeing anyone else? Any other boys?’

‘No, no, nothing like that,’ he said, regaining some energy and frowning. ‘She was with me and no one else.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘I am. Ask her girlfriends, she was crazy about me.’

‘Did you have sex?’

‘Yes, and it was good,’ he said, smiling.

‘When Carla’s body was found there were marks from your teeth on her chest.’

‘I already explained this at the time. That’s how it was with Carla, she liked it like that and so did I. Alright, we liked rough sex, so what? I never hit her or anything like that, they were just games.’

‘You say that she was the one who liked hard-core sex, however, in your statement,’ Jonan consulted his notes, ‘you said that she didn’t want to have sex that night, and that this made you angry. Something doesn’t add up here, wouldn’t you agree?’

‘It was because of the drugs, one moment she was like a motorbike going full-throttle and the next she came over all paranoid and said she didn’t want to … Of course I got angry, but I didn’t force her and I didn’t kill her, it had happened to us before.’

‘And when it happened before did you make her get out of the car and leave her stranded on the mountainside?’

Miguel Ángel shot him a furious look and swallowed before answering.

‘No, that was the first time, and I didn’t make her get out of the car: she was the one who took to her heels and didn’t want to get back in, even though I asked her to … Eventually I got fed up and left.’

‘She scratched your neck,’ said Amaia.

‘I’ve already told you, she liked it that way; she’d leave my back in shreds sometimes. Our friends can tell you; they saw the bite marks on my shoulders in the summer when we were sunbathing and they had a great laugh about it, calling her a she-wolf.’

‘When was the last time you’d had sex before that night?’

‘Um, probably the day before, whenever we saw each other we ended up fucking. As I said, she was crazy about me.’

Amaia sighed and got to her feet, signalling to the guard.