Hanging Hill - Mo Hayder [90]
He drooped back, elbows on knees, staring at the floor. Zoë glanced at the desk sergeant, who was speaking on the phone, standing staring out of the window, not paying attention. She stood near Nial, her arms crossed, monitoring the sergeant out of the corner of her eye, speaking in a low whisper out of the side of her mouth.
‘I shouldn’t talk to you. I could get into serious trouble. They could even charge you with obstruction.’
‘I know,’ he muttered. ‘That’s what my dad said might happen.’
‘Why the hell did you do it?’
Nial shrugged. ‘Because he’s a mate? Because I thought it was a good idea. That’s what I’m going to tell them. That it was my idea.’
‘Well, was it?’
‘Of course,’ he said evasively. ‘And that’s what Ralph’s going to say. And Peter.’
‘You know the shit load of trouble you’re going to be in.’
‘He’s a mate,’ he said fiercely, ‘and mates look out for each other.’
Zoë shook her head. When would people learn? The desk sergeant was yawning now, scratching his chest as he talked. ‘So, Nial,’ she murmured, ‘when they ask you where you really were that night, what’re you going to say?’
‘That I was at home.’
‘With Ralph?’
‘Well …’ Nial shifted uneasily.
‘Well?’
He rubbed his nose and glanced at the open door, the sunlight coming down in the street outside. He gave it a hungry look, as if he was going to sign a pact with the devil and knew that might be the last daylight he ever saw.
‘Nial?’
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘Not with him. I don’t know where he was. But I can promise you this.’ He stared up at her. There were red patches on his face. ‘I can promise you he wasn’t out hurting Lorne Wood.’
4
Zoë went back to her office, clenching her teeth so hard they hurt. She couldn’t get Ralph’s face out of her head, how he’d been so scared of his parents. She couldn’t get Nial out of her head either – He wasn’t out hurting Lorne Wood. Nial knew what she only had a hunch about: that Ralph wasn’t a killer.
The door to the incident room stood open, the whiteboard covered with scribbles, Ralph’s photo pinned up. She passed it, went into her office and stared at the reams of paperwork among which there might be a person who might know something that might prove them all wrong. Something that would let Ralph off the hook. She sank into her chair, a sense of defeat creeping over her. A lot of ‘mights’ and no ‘concretes’. Ralph didn’t stand a chance. Didn’t stand a sodding chance.
Somewhere outside the office a door slammed. She didn’t get up but used her toe to pull her door open a fraction. Ben was coming along the corridor. He was holding a folder under his arm, his glasses in the other hand, a strained look on his face, as if this case was really doing his head in. Behind him came Nial, slouching along uneasily, trying to act nonchalant and doing such a bad job of it that he only managed to look furtive. The two weren’t exchanging a word.
Zoë was about to retreat when Ben’s office door opened and Debbie came out. She was wearing a creamy lace dress – feminine and innocent – high green sandals on her tanned feet. There was a bit of a sway in her step, as if she was enjoying life. Her face changed when she saw Nial. She stopped in front of the door, crossed her arms and frowned at him as he passed. Like a head-mistress who’d just come face to face with the biggest troublemaker in the whole school. He raised his eyes sullenly to her and, very, very slowly, Debbie shook her head. If the gesture had had words they’d have been: you silly, silly little boy. Then, as if there was nothing more disappointing to her in the whole world, she turned on a heel and walked away in the opposite direction.
Before anyone could see her, Zoë kicked the door closed and turned her chair back to the computer. Her face was hot. She rolled up her right sleeve and studied the skin. Covered with marks and scabs. She found a piece of flesh that wasn’t marked. It would be easy to dig her nails into it – so easy. She closed her eyes. You don’t have to, Zoë. Don’t.
The computer beeped to let her know