A Velvet Scream (11 page)

‘We won't be here long, Mrs Bretby,' Joanna said. ‘We just wondered about Kayleigh and her father.'

She looked surprised at that. ‘I told you,' she said. ‘Peter left when Kayleigh was two.'

‘To your knowledge have they had any contact since then?'

She looked very puzzled at the line of questioning. ‘I don't think so. Not that I know of. It's possible, I suppose. She probably wouldn't have told me. Ask her. Why do you ask?'

‘The description of the man Kayleigh was with on Tuesday night matches that of your husband.'

‘Ex-husband.' She put two and two together. ‘Look, my ex was no saint but he wouldn't have assaulted his own daughter.'

‘Would he have known she was his daughter?'

The question silenced her.

‘Have you sent him pictures of her over the years?'

Again she was on the defensive. ‘I didn't even know his address. How could I? Why would I? He never showed any interest in her.'

‘What about the Child Protection Agency?'

‘They could never find him. He never paid a penny towards her upkeep. I just had to manage on my own as best I could. In a way I preferred it like that. A clean break. I didn't have to see him or have anything to do with him.'

‘Right.' Joanna waited before changing the subject. ‘Tell me about Neil Bretby and Kayleigh. How would you describe their relationship?'

‘Leave him out of it,' she said wearily. ‘The poor man's had enough trouble as it is. He must regret the day he met me.'

‘Just answer the question, please.'

‘She was jealous of him. She always was. She wanted all the attention for herself. She couldn't bear to share me. He tried. He really tried to be a decent dad to her but she was off him from the first.'

‘Did they talk, laugh, go places together?'

‘Sometimes.'

‘Alone or with you?'

‘For goodness' sake. Leave it, will you? He never touched her. I'm sure of it.'

‘Were you working at the time?'

She nodded.

‘Where?'

‘I had a job at the hospital, cleaning.'

‘What hours did you work?'

Christine could see exactly where this was heading. ‘Evenings,' she said steadily. ‘Five till nine.'

‘I see.'

‘Do you know where Neil Bretby is now?'

She drew in a deep breath and didn't answer.

‘Do you have his address, please?'

Christine's face became hard, resigned; her mouth a straight, angry line. Without a word she left the room, returning with a piece of paper. ‘Here,' she said. ‘But I do mean it. Leave Neil out of this. I don't want him to have any more trouble because of us. Kayleigh's caused him enough grief already.'

‘We won't bother him any more than is necessary,' Joanna promised. ‘Thank you for your help.'

As they left she couldn't help noticing Christine's face: hopelessly bleak and sad. And now Joanna couldn't help wondering: who should she feel most sorry for? Kayleigh or her mother? And was almost glad of the distraction of her own mother's text on her mobile phone informing her that Lara, her niece, had changed her mind and now did want to be a bridesmaid. Once in the car she rang her back. ‘OK,' she said. ‘You sort it. Colour, design, dress. You sort it, Mum. I'm just too busy. I'm on a rape case.'

Her mood was not helped by Mike Korpanski's bland smile, pretending not to be listening but staring straight ahead with a faint smile pasted on his mouth. He was getting his own back on her for his poor night's sleep.

Molly Carraway was sitting in her English lesson but she wasn't concentrating. When she had gone home after school yesterday evening she had gone straight on to the Internet and there had been a message from her ‘friend'. She had stared at it for a few minutes before reading the text. ‘I'm coming to Leek on Thursday on business.'

On business.
It sounded so grown up. So rich. She read on.

‘I'd really like to take you out, Molly. Please say you will. Please.'

She had typed in her answer.

EIGHT

M
ike drove her to the hospital to meet up with Dr Afarim. They could kill two birds with one stone: speak to the psychiatrist and visit Kayleigh. On the way they stopped at a newsagents and Joanna picked up a couple of ‘celebrity special' magazines, sure that Kayleigh would appreciate them.

Dr Zed Afarim proved to be a handsome African in his thirties with excellent English, impeccable manners, the whitest of teeth and a pair of dark eyes that sparkled with amusement as he greeted her. ‘Inspector Piercy,' he said, holding out his hand. ‘I was looking forward to meeting you. And Sergeant Korpanski,' he added, still in the same polite tone.

As they took a chair Joanna felt very relaxed in the doctor's company. She could understand how he would make a good psychiatrist with his bright eyes, measured tone and careful English.

He sat down behind his desk. ‘Tell me how I can help you best,' he began, ‘to unravel this sad tale.'

‘We're interested in anything you have to tell us about Kayleigh's mental state,' Joanna said, ‘whether or not you think it has any bearing on our investigation.'

‘I shall endeavour to do that,' the doctor said, ‘without using too many long medical terms. If there is anything you don't understand I will explain.'

‘If it helps, Dr Afarim,' Joanna said, ‘my degree is in psychology.'

Afarim's eyes gleamed with appreciation. ‘Excellent. Well, then. Without further delay, you understand that I am not trying to solve your crime for you. I simply would like you to understand young Kayleigh a little better.' He leaned back in his chair and regarded them. ‘Her mother and father were in all probability fairly neglectful in her early years and this has resulted in typical attention-seeking behaviour by exaggerating stories and events. She is a very insecure young lady and craves affection. These young ladies are frequently emotionally labile and this makes them vulnerable to approaches from the opposite sex. Kayleigh is textbook typical of these girls. Hysterical and prone to forming unsuitable or dangerous friendships in their desperate search for continuing human contact and approval. When her father abandoned her as a child it planted the idea that she was unlovable – that she would always need to demand it in one way or another. This only serves to irritate people, which makes the subject more needy. Her mother probably didn't want Kayleigh around when she married her new partner. This would have left Kayleigh in a very lonely state indeed. It was another rejection.'

‘But her new stepfather, by all accounts, tried to befriend her,' Joanna commented.

‘Ah –' the psychiatrist held his forefinger up – ‘but at the cost of her mother's attention which she had previously had one hundred per cent.'

Joanna watched the psychiatrist talking and wondered, why was he spending time telling her all this? Was he implying that Kayleigh's story was a lie? She tried to tease it out of him. ‘Are you telling me that Kayleigh would fabricate stories simply to gain her mother's attention and sympathy?'

‘She wouldn't see it as fabrication,' the doctor said. ‘Merely extending or altering the truth.'

‘Would she have a conscience about the consequences of her “extending or altering the truth”?'

Afarim was silent for a moment, his face troubled. He was patently deciding how best to answer this. ‘Probably not,' he said. ‘Unless it had an impact on her, such as, if it was found out and she lost face or friends by her falsehood.'

It was an old-fashioned word for a lie but Joanna approved. It seemed right to use the lesser word.

‘Did you speak to her about her stepfather and where that story led her and her mother?'

‘I touched on it.'

‘And?' Joanna asked bluntly.

Afarim leaned back in his seat. ‘She insists there is some truth in the story.'

‘Some?' she queried. ‘How much?'

Afarim shook his head sadly. ‘Who can say?'

‘Do you believe her stepfather had sex with her?' Joanna asked bluntly.

Afarim continued shaking his head. ‘I can't say.'

‘Do you think
anything
happened between them?'

‘Probably not.'

She caught Korpanski's eye. His face was wooden, expressionless. Yet she thought she caught a hint of anger as he drew in a sharp breath.

‘Was she a virgin previously?'

Zed Afarim shook his head. ‘We don't know.'

‘And the self-harming? What's the significance in that?'

‘That's more interesting,' Doctor Afarim said, animated now. ‘When I spoke to her about it there was a definite change in her manner. She appeared depressed. A little defeated. I detected self-pity but also guilt. Normally I would assume that the self-harming could be explained again by attention or pity-seeking – wanting to appear the injured child. But in Kayleigh's case this would not appear to be the case. She was
hiding
the marks. Not exposing them.'

Korpanski almost exploded. ‘In a black boob tube?'

Afarim was unruffled. ‘She'd put some make-up over the marks,' he said. ‘She didn't want people to see them. A nightclub is a dark place. In this context she wouldn't want to evoke sympathy.' His eyes twinkled as he challenged Korpanski. ‘I promise you sergeant that this is the case.'

Joanna decided it was time to try and pin the psychiatrist down. ‘So what about Tuesday night? Did she fabricate the rape? Did it actually happen or did she pass out, drunk, and try and blame it on someone or something? Did she have consensual sex that night? Was she in a position to consent to sex? Or did she simply pass out because she was drunk and had had a cocktail of drugs? What's the bottom line here?' Joanna felt a burst of fury. ‘What am I investigating, Doctor? Nothing but a teenage girl's desire for attention?'

For the first time Afarim looked uneasy. He frowned. ‘I can't tell you that,' he said. ‘Not for certain.'

‘Her story was detailed and clear,' Korpanski said, looking at Joanna as he spoke.

‘I suspect that the very clarity of the story makes at least part of it that. She'd had a lot to drink and on top of that had taken or had administered some sedative. Although she did not say this in so many words the implication was that the truth is that she remembers little of that night: certainly in the later hours. What happened is possibly as much a mystery to her as it is to you. She simply does not know. And yet  . . .'

The two of them waited as Zed Afarim continued thoughtfully. ‘There is something about that night that is deeply troubling to her. I don't know what it is. What is significant is that she wants to hide it from me. Ergo it is of importance. But, Inspector –' his eyes rested on her – ‘if you have a degree in psychology, you will understand this. If someone is determined to keep something from you the signs are there but it can be difficult – if not dangerous – to force them to tell. And stupid to try and guess.'

Joanna nodded. ‘Will you be seeing her again?'

‘One more time – and then only if she wishes it. She has the right to refuse, even to discharge herself. I cannot force her to stay. In the end we have to let her go.'

‘Where?'

‘Home. To her mother. I have spoken to Mrs Bretby and she is in agreement with this plan. We will assess her in a month. If this fails she will be placed in foster care.'

‘You wouldn't think of trying to contact her father?'

‘It's a possibility,' Dr Afarim said. ‘But we would have to see what she would feel about it. And her father too. Remember – these two are perfect strangers.'

Perfect strangers.

The phrase seemed important, significant. It lay, like oil, floating on the surface of her mind, swirling and indistinct, puzzling and polluting her thoughts.

She waited until they were outside before sharing her thoughts with Korpanski. ‘So where do we go from here? We don't even know whether she was raped.'

‘It's not going to stand up in court,' Korpanski agreed. ‘We'll never get a conviction out of this. And if our friendly psychiatrist speaks up – well – he could almost be acting for the defence.'

‘Then we drop the case, Mike?'

Korpanski looked troubled. ‘I don't see we've got much choice, Jo. We probably won't even get a conviction of underage sex. She's fourteen and looked older. The CPS will only prosecute if the parents insist. And I can't see Christine making much of a fuss or the absent father. And the truth is that Kayleigh hardly knows what happened. Under the circumstances she's not going to make a good witness.'

She picked up the magazines from the passenger seat. ‘So?'

Mike simply huffed out a big sigh.

‘Come on, Mike,' she said. ‘If this was Jossie  . . .'

‘But it isn't Jossie. If it was I would string the bastard up by his balls.'

She eyed him and knew it was true. ‘Do you mind if I talk to her alone this time, Mike? I think I'll get more out of her if you're not there.'

‘Fine by me,' he said. ‘Do you want me to wait around or –?'

‘Why not go and talk to the Newcastle-under-Lyme Police,' she suggested. ‘There are lots of clubs round here. See if anything like this has happened before and what the outcome was.' She glanced at her watch. ‘I'll meet you in the car park at three thirty.'

This time Kayleigh was watching television in the day room. She was wearing blue pyjamas with Disney figures on and had applied some make-up, lip-gloss and heavy, thick black mascara that contrasted with her skin and made it look even paler. She still looked tired but managed a smile as Joanna handed her the most recent
Hello!
,
OK
and
Closer
magazines.

‘Thanks,' she said weakly, then looked up. ‘What do I have to do to deserve these?'