Nicole
Nicole
There is something in the detective’s tone that causes the hairs on Nicole’s arms to bristle. She glances across at her solicitor, but his face is impassive.
The detective does not wait for a response before continuing.
‘We’ve just received some information from a local cab driver. This cab driver has been in Australia for the past five weeks, visiting his daughter. He left, in fact, the day after Isla Richardson was killed, hadn’t heard anything about the incident until he got back yesterday and happened to look through a local newspaper.’
The detective pauses, places his elbows on the armrests of his chair, clasps his hands together as if in prayer.
‘Reading the story reminded him of an incident of his own the night before he’d gone to Australia – a near-collision with a speeding car. Not unusual in his line of trade, but the news story brought it to mind. This cab driver has a dashcam fitted to his car, and he’s very diligent about downloading all the footage every night; he likes keeping a record of every journey. Sounds like he’s had too many altercations not to be vigilant. Today, he had a look at this footage and was quite surprised by what he found. He brought it into the station this evening, and the officers agreed it made for interesting viewing. I’ve just had a look at it myself, and I thought you might like to see it too.’
There is faux-chumminess in the detective’s voice, and Nicole reminds herself to remain on guard.
‘Before I show it to you, I just want to check there’s nothing else you’d like to tell us about the night of Isla’s death. Nothing at all you can think of that might be relevant?’
Nicole’s thoughts sprint through a thousand things she could say but she dares not articulate any of them. She shakes her head, tells him no.
The detective pauses, his gaze unflinching. ‘Okay. In that case, I wonder if you could explain this to us.’
He does not take his eyes from her face as he activates the iPad, places it on the table in front of her, presses the play button.
A video begins, and Nicole looks at it, watches the knitting together of one frame to the next: a road in the evening, tipping into darkness, lit by streetlamps and city light pollution. An oncoming vehicle with no headlights on. A sudden swerve, a near-miss. A freeze-frame at the moment the cars almost collide. Clarity of images telling an indisputable story.
Nicole watches, paralysed, wishes she could tear her eyes away, that she did not have to see it: the scene she had hoped never to come to light. A truth she had hoped never to be exposed.