Page 54 of Carbon

Father must have tried to take matters into his own hands, and the sound of glass smashing all over the marble floor of the dining room made me jump.

“Now look what you’ve done,” Mother snapped. “Dorothy! I need another drink.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Father called. Then his voice dropped, but I could still hear when I pressed my ear to the door. “You can’t take your anger out on our daughter. It’s not fair on her.”

“She’s never behaved like a child of ours. We’ve offered her the world, and she’s got no ambition to do anything other than run marketing campaigns.” Mother dissolved into sobs, and I feared her medication had worn off. “At least Angelica had talent.”

Although I’d known how she felt for years, it still hurt to hear her say the words. I’d tried so hard to please her, but nothing I did was ever good enough. And now I was trapped.

* * *

The following morning, I accompanied Sidney to the police station for a formal interview. I didn’t want to go, but at the same time, I desperately wanted to see the person who killed Angie behind bars. What had they found out about the man she was with at the ball?

“Don’t say anything unless I give the okay,” Sidney instructed. “They’ll ask irrelevant questions, and you don’t need to answer them.”

With hindsight, having time to prepare for the interview was actually worse. At least in the hospital, being caught unawares had meant the pit of dread didn’t build up in my stomach like Sauron’s advancing army. It was the same two detectives again, Robinson and Bell, only this time Robinson chewed nicotine gum like a man on the edge.

After they’d gone through all the rubbish at the beginning for the tape, they started off with the same questions. How well did I know Beau? What happened on the night of Angie’s death?

“I’ve already told you all this.”

“If we could just go through it again,” Robinson said.

“Do I have to?” I asked Sidney.

“Try some new questions, gentlemen.”

The two detectives glanced at each other, and I knew they weren’t happy with me. Robinson spoke up again. “Did Mr. Davies ever mention any friends to you, or relatives maybe?”

“No.”

“Any trips he made outside of work?”

“No.”

“Did you overhear him receive any phone calls?”

“No.”

“Miss Fordham, you’re not being very helpful here. Anyone would think you didn’t want us to catch the man who raped your sister.”

All the air left my lungs, and I felt like I’d been punched in the gut. Robinson kept his face perfectly neutral after landing that bombshell, the bastard.

“Angie was r-r-raped?”

“That’s what the evidence shows, and right now, there’s a man out there free to do it again.”

“But what if it wasn’t Beau? What about the other man Angie was with that evening?”

“Miss Fordham, you’re the only person we’ve spoken to who believes that wasn’t Mr. Davies. We’re still working our way through the guest list, but I can tell you most of the men have been eliminated already.”

“People often bring friends, acquaintances, people whose names don’t appear on the list.”

“We’re questioning everybody. But Mr. Davies also sent a text message asking your sister to meet him in the pool house at eleven o’clock, and his fingerprints are all over the murder weapon.”

A text? No, he couldn’t have. He’d have told me. Right?

“We also found blonde hair like your sister’s in Mr. Davies’ bed, and while we haven’t received the DNA results back yet, I’m confident we’ll get a match.”

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