Abby
Abby
‘What’s Nathaniel got to do with Isla? Or with Nicole’s stolen car?’ The words fire from Abby’s lips as thoughts collide in her brain.
The male officer adjusts the key chain clipped to his belt loop. ‘We’re just making enquiries at this stage, Mrs Richardson.’
Abby shakes her head, flabbergasted that the officers can be so obstructive, infuriated that Nicole and Andrew can just stand there, flagrantly ignoring the enormous, trumpeting elephant in the room. But Abby will not let them get away with it.
‘Did you know that Andrew’ – she nods towards him – ‘seduced my daughter? That he was sleeping with her? A seventeen-year-old girl he’s known his entire life. Did you know that he got her pregnant? That he paid for her to have an abortion just weeks before she died? If anyone needs investigating in connection with my daughter’s death, it’s him.’ She points a finger at Andrew, watches him shake his head, hears him protest, proclaim his innocence. Her blood seethes at the spectacle of Andrew trying to deny what he has done. She sees Nicole dart an anxious glance at Nathaniel, sees Nathaniel’s face contort with horror or disgust, she is not sure which. She watches Nicole place a hand on Nathaniel’s arm, trying to shield her son from truths that can no longer be hidden.
The female officer holds a hand in the air to silence Andrew. ‘Thank you for that information, Mrs Richardson. I’m sure Detective Webb will look into that as part of his investigation. I’ll get him to call you as soon as we’re done here.’
Confusion spirals in Abby’s mind. She has just told two police officers the identity of the forty-eight-year-old man who predated on her seventeen-year-old daughter in the months leading up to her death, and they are treating the information as though it is of no consequence.
The female officer turns back to Nathaniel. ‘As I was saying, I wonder if you could tell me a bit about your relationship with Isla Richardson?’
Nathaniel shrugs. ‘We were friends.’ His voice is unsteady, and something pricks in Abby’s ears; there is a false note in it, something she needs to be attuned to.
‘They’ve known each other since they were born. They were practically siblings.’ Nicole’s tone is urgent, defensive, as though the sand in an hourglass is draining at speed and she needs to be heard before it runs out.
Abby can stand the charade no longer. ‘Siblings? Are you mad? Everyone knew Nathaniel had a crush on Isla, that he’d been pining after her for years. Have you any idea how uncomfortable it made her feel?’
‘Abby, please—’
‘What?’ Abby experiences a stab of fury at Nicole’s attempts to maintain the illusion of her perfect family. She does not care, in this moment, about the scarlet rash blooming on Nathaniel’s neck, spreading into his cheeks. ‘Are you saying it’s not true?’
‘Can we all calm down, please.’ The female officer’s voice is firm, decisive, and she turns to Abby. ‘It really would be best if you went home now. We’ll make sure Detective Webb calls you as soon as possible with an update.’
Abby stands resolute. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Nobody ever returns my calls, and I want to know what’s going on.’
The male officer shakes his head. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Richardson, but it’s really not helping things, you being here. I’m going to have to insist that you leave.’
The officer’s voice is firm, and Abby cannot believe she is being ousted from the scene, that they are behaving as though she does not have the right to be there. She is about to respond, to insist she be allowed to stay, before she thinks better of it, decides there are other ways around the situation.
She does not look anyone in the eye as she exits the kitchen and closes the door behind her.