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Authors: Michelle Davies
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to speak.
‘At this stage I have no reason to believe she is.’
‘But what if the blood does turn out to be hers?’
‘We can assume she’s been injured in some way. But while that’s serious, it doesn’t necessarily mean we should be looking for a body yet.’
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Lesley moaned.
Belmar passed her the glass of water but the tiny sip she took made her feel even more nauseous. She set it down on the table with a shaky hand.
Maggie leaned across the table. ‘Lesley, if the blood does turn out to be Rosie’s there may be another explanation for how it got there. Have you ever noticed any unusual marks on
her skin, any cuts or grazes?’
Lesley frowned. ‘Marks?’
‘Yes, like her skin’s been cut.’
Lesley felt her own blood drain from her face.
‘You think someone’s been cutting Rosie?’
‘Not exactly—’
Maggie had no time to elaborate, as there was another shout outside, this time louder and clearer. A male voice shouted for DCI Umpire.
The four of them shot to their feet but Lesley was closest to the French doors and reached them first to yank the curtains open.
‘Oh God, no. No, no, no . . .’
A man in a white jumpsuit with cropped silver hair was standing on the terrace holding a large, clear plastic bag. He looked furious. Beside him was a very young-looking officer in uniform who
was puce and panting, as though he’d just run from somewhere.
Lesley heard Maggie behind her.
‘Mrs Kinnock, please come away from the window.’
But it was too late. She had already seen it.
Inside the bag was a miniskirt. Made from a synthetic silver fabric, it was covered in a layer of tulle embellished with dozens of silver sequin stars – and blood.
It was one of Rosie’s skirts.
Lesley smashed her fists against the glass. A deep, guttural moan like an injured animal might make filled the room. The noise grew louder and louder until she realized it was coming from her.
She hit the window again but her body was weak from shock and the noise barely resonated. Then she felt hands grip her shoulders and pull her away. Lesley heard the urgency in Maggie’s
voice.
‘Please come away from the window.’
Her body went slack as she allowed Maggie to lead her across the room. She felt numb, like she’d been given a general anaesthetic and woken up before it’d had time to wear off.
Lesley tried to open her mouth to speak, but her throat had also seized up. She couldn’t seem to make anything function.
‘For God’s sake, shut the curtains,’ Umpire snapped. Belmar yanked them closed.
‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Kinnock,’ said the DCI with obvious contrition. ‘You shouldn’t have seen that.’
‘The blood—’ she rasped.
‘Is it Rosie’s skirt?’ asked Maggie.
‘Yes, but I don’t understand how you’ve found it covered in blood,’ she stammered. ‘She wasn’t wearing it when I went out this morning. She had her shorts on,
a navy pair.’
‘Is the skirt a particular favourite of hers?’ said Belmar.
‘Yes, I guess.’
‘Is there any reason why she might be a bit secretive about wearing it?’ he pressed. ‘You know, changing into it when she knows you aren’t around?’
‘Let’s give her a minute,’ Maggie cautioned, and she made her sit down in a chair.
It was a few moments before Lesley was able to answer Belmar’s question. She roughly wiped her wet cheeks with her palms.
‘I bought it for her about a month ago. Mack doesn’t know she has it. He wouldn’t like her wearing something so short. It wasn’t expensive,’ she felt obliged to
point out. ‘It’s from Topshop.’
‘So she only wears it when he’s not around?’ said Maggie.
‘I suppose so,’ said Lesley warily. She didn’t like the way the conversation was going. It felt like they were ganging up on her. ‘But I can’t see her changing into
it just to revise in.’
‘When would she normally wear it?’ said Maggie.
‘Well, it’s for going
‘At this stage I have no reason to believe she is.’
‘But what if the blood does turn out to be hers?’
‘We can assume she’s been injured in some way. But while that’s serious, it doesn’t necessarily mean we should be looking for a body yet.’
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Lesley moaned.
Belmar passed her the glass of water but the tiny sip she took made her feel even more nauseous. She set it down on the table with a shaky hand.
Maggie leaned across the table. ‘Lesley, if the blood does turn out to be Rosie’s there may be another explanation for how it got there. Have you ever noticed any unusual marks on
her skin, any cuts or grazes?’
Lesley frowned. ‘Marks?’
‘Yes, like her skin’s been cut.’
Lesley felt her own blood drain from her face.
‘You think someone’s been cutting Rosie?’
‘Not exactly—’
Maggie had no time to elaborate, as there was another shout outside, this time louder and clearer. A male voice shouted for DCI Umpire.
The four of them shot to their feet but Lesley was closest to the French doors and reached them first to yank the curtains open.
‘Oh God, no. No, no, no . . .’
A man in a white jumpsuit with cropped silver hair was standing on the terrace holding a large, clear plastic bag. He looked furious. Beside him was a very young-looking officer in uniform who
was puce and panting, as though he’d just run from somewhere.
Lesley heard Maggie behind her.
‘Mrs Kinnock, please come away from the window.’
But it was too late. She had already seen it.
Inside the bag was a miniskirt. Made from a synthetic silver fabric, it was covered in a layer of tulle embellished with dozens of silver sequin stars – and blood.
It was one of Rosie’s skirts.
Lesley smashed her fists against the glass. A deep, guttural moan like an injured animal might make filled the room. The noise grew louder and louder until she realized it was coming from her.
She hit the window again but her body was weak from shock and the noise barely resonated. Then she felt hands grip her shoulders and pull her away. Lesley heard the urgency in Maggie’s
voice.
‘Please come away from the window.’
Her body went slack as she allowed Maggie to lead her across the room. She felt numb, like she’d been given a general anaesthetic and woken up before it’d had time to wear off.
Lesley tried to open her mouth to speak, but her throat had also seized up. She couldn’t seem to make anything function.
‘For God’s sake, shut the curtains,’ Umpire snapped. Belmar yanked them closed.
‘I’m very sorry, Mrs Kinnock,’ said the DCI with obvious contrition. ‘You shouldn’t have seen that.’
‘The blood—’ she rasped.
‘Is it Rosie’s skirt?’ asked Maggie.
‘Yes, but I don’t understand how you’ve found it covered in blood,’ she stammered. ‘She wasn’t wearing it when I went out this morning. She had her shorts on,
a navy pair.’
‘Is the skirt a particular favourite of hers?’ said Belmar.
‘Yes, I guess.’
‘Is there any reason why she might be a bit secretive about wearing it?’ he pressed. ‘You know, changing into it when she knows you aren’t around?’
‘Let’s give her a minute,’ Maggie cautioned, and she made her sit down in a chair.
It was a few moments before Lesley was able to answer Belmar’s question. She roughly wiped her wet cheeks with her palms.
‘I bought it for her about a month ago. Mack doesn’t know she has it. He wouldn’t like her wearing something so short. It wasn’t expensive,’ she felt obliged to
point out. ‘It’s from Topshop.’
‘So she only wears it when he’s not around?’ said Maggie.
‘I suppose so,’ said Lesley warily. She didn’t like the way the conversation was going. It felt like they were ganging up on her. ‘But I can’t see her changing into
it just to revise in.’
‘When would she normally wear it?’ said Maggie.
‘Well, it’s for going
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