Page 3 of What Have You Done?

Brenda is late this morning, as she stayed longer to cover a gap in staffing, so it’s almost nine o’clock as she turns into her own street. She loves nursing, but it’s hard work, and now her feet and back hurt, and she just wants her bed. She regrets she wasn’t home in time this morning to see Diana off to school, but they will catch up later.

Her fatigue evaporates when she notices the police cruiser parked on the street in front of her house. Brenda pulls into the driveway as a uniformed officer turns and watches her from her front step. She recognizes him – it’s the police chief, Mike Hall. She suddenly feels her heart pounding, and her hands begin to tremble as she turns off the car. She tries not to give in to her sudden dread. What is he doing here? It can’t be anything to do with Diana. Diana’s at school.

She gets out of the car and looks at the police chief, who has walked toward her.

He says gently, ‘Mrs Brewer?’

‘Yes,’ she manages to say. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Can we go inside and talk?’ he asks.

She doesn’t like the look on his face. She feels her centre collapsing, a weakness washing over her. ‘What is it?’

‘Come inside, please,’ he says, taking her arm.

She allows herself to be led to the front door, which she unlocks with unsteady hands. He’s going to tell her something she doesn’t want to hear. She must prepare herself. But she doesn’t want to prepare herself, she wants to send him away. She’s angry at him for being here.

And then somehow, they are seated in her living room, and he is telling her that her daughter is dead. Her beautiful, perfect, only daughter. It’s all very far away and echoey, as if he’s talking at her from another room, but she can see his face swimming in and out of focus and he looks concerned. Well, he should be concerned, coming here and saying such nonsense.

‘No,’ she says firmly. ‘Diana’s at school. I think you should leave.’ She gets up and moves to show him the door, but her legs give out beneath her. He catches her just in time and eases her back onto the sofa.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he says, his voice breaking.

She begins to wail.

Cameron has a free first period on Friday. He sleeps in, then gets up and showers and pulls on jeans, a T-shirt and a hoodie. Then he goes downstairs for breakfast. His parents are both already at work. He likes having the house to himself. It’s an older house, on the edge of town, with a screened-in front porch and creaky floors. He pours himself some cereal, grabs the milk out of the fridge, and is about to sit down at the kitchen table and check his cell phone when there’s a knock at the door. He tenses and glances in the direction of the door. He puts the milk down on the table. The knock comes again, more loudly this time.

He walks down the hall and opens the front door. There are two officers in the tan and olive uniforms of Vermont State Police on the front porch, a strong-looking woman and a younger, taller man. He doesn’t recognize them – they’re not from around here. He immediately feels a surge of fear.

‘Yes?’ he says.

‘Cameron Farrell?’ the female officer says.

‘Yes, that’s me.’

‘Are your parents home?’ she asks.

‘No, they’re at work.’ He sees the two officers glance at each other.

She introduces herself and her partner, but the names go right over his head.

‘May we come in?’

‘Why? What’s this about?’

When they don’t answer, he gestures them inside. They walk into the living room on the right. It’s an old-fashioned room, with slightly dated furniture and some antiques his parents have acquired over the years. He doesn’t sit, so they don’t either. He folds his arms in front of his chest nervously and waits for them to speak.

‘Do you know a girl named Diana Brewer?’

‘Yes. She’s my girlfriend.’

‘Maybe you’d better sit down,’ the female officer suggests.

Cameron slumps heavily into the armchair behind him. He doesn’t speak now.

‘I’m so sorry, but I’m afraid Diana is dead,’ she says gently, watching him closely.

‘What?’ he says.

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