Then it would be replaced with the burn of his anger for her, dry in his gullet – still there after all this time. He would not call her. She had been dead to him for years anyway.
Back in the interview room, Daniel inhaled the stale air of yesterday’s questions as he waited for Sebastian. Sergeant Turner’s eyes were bleary. The older man pulled gently at his collar andstraightened his cuffs. Daniel knew that the police had been given a verbal report from forensics confirming blood on Sebastian’s clothes, which had been positively identified as belonging to Ben Stokes. The CCTV film had been scrutinised by police who had yet to confirm a sighting of the boys.
Sebastian was tired when the officer brought him in. Charlotte followed, removing her shades only when she sat down, her fingertips trembling.
Sergeant Turner went through the routine of identifying himself, stating the date and the time. Daniel took the lid off his pen and waited for questioning to begin.
‘How do you feel this morning, Sebastian?’ said Sergeant Turner.
‘Fine, thanks,’ said Sebastian. ‘I had French toast for breakfast. It wasn’t as good as Olga’s though.’
‘Olga will make you some when you come home,’ said Charlotte, her voice rough, almost hoarse.
‘You remember we took your clothes, Sebastian, to send them to the lab for testing?’
‘Of course I remember.’
‘Well, we have a verbal report from the lab which says that the red marks on your shirt were actually blood.’
Sebastian pursed his lips, as if he might kiss someone. He sat back in his chair with one eyebrow raised.
‘Do you know whose blood might have been on your shirt, Sebastian?’
‘A bird’s.’
‘Why, did you hurt a bird?’
‘No, but I saw a dead one once and I picked it up. It was still warm and its blood was all sticky.’
‘Did you see thedead bird on the day that Ben was killed?’
‘I can’t remember exactly.’
‘Well, as it turns out, the blood that was on your shirt didn’t belong to a bird. It was human blood. It was Ben Stokes’s blood.’
Sebastian surveyed the corners of the room and Daniel was sure he saw the boy smile. It wasn’t a large smile, more a small curving of his lips. Daniel could feel his heart beating.
‘Do you know how Ben’s blood might’ve got on to your shirt, Sebastian?’
‘Maybe he had cut himself, and when we were playing it kind of rubbed on to me.’
‘Well, the special doctors that looked at your shirt are able to tell a lot of things about the kind of blood that’s on your shirt. It turns out that the blood that is on your shirt is what’s called expirated blood. That’s blood that was blown out of Ben’s mouth or nose …’
Charlotte covered her face with her hands. Her long nails reached up her forehead into the roots of her hair.
‘There’s also an aerial spatter of blood on your trousers and your shoes. That’s blood that’s been dispersed as a result of force …’
Now both of Sebastian’s eyebrows were raised. He looked up into the camera. For a moment, Daniel was transfixed. It was the sight of the pretty young boy looking upwards into the eye of authority; all the unseen people watching him, upstairs, looking at his childlike expressions and trying to find cause to blame. Daniel remembered the saints that Minnie had prayed to, her soft, full fingers fervently twirling the beads of her rosary. There had been arrows to assail St Sebastian, yet he had lived. Daniel could not remember how he had died, but it had been a violentdeath. Even as the police officers produced further evidence of Sebastian’s guilt, Daniel felt a stronger need to defend him. The witness had come forward to say that he had also seen Sebastian fighting with Ben much later in the day, in the adventure playground, after Sebastian’s mother said he returned home, although the sighting was not confirmed on CCTV. Daniel was not intimidated by this, or the forensics. He had undermined such
Back in the interview room, Daniel inhaled the stale air of yesterday’s questions as he waited for Sebastian. Sergeant Turner’s eyes were bleary. The older man pulled gently at his collar andstraightened his cuffs. Daniel knew that the police had been given a verbal report from forensics confirming blood on Sebastian’s clothes, which had been positively identified as belonging to Ben Stokes. The CCTV film had been scrutinised by police who had yet to confirm a sighting of the boys.
Sebastian was tired when the officer brought him in. Charlotte followed, removing her shades only when she sat down, her fingertips trembling.
Sergeant Turner went through the routine of identifying himself, stating the date and the time. Daniel took the lid off his pen and waited for questioning to begin.
‘How do you feel this morning, Sebastian?’ said Sergeant Turner.
‘Fine, thanks,’ said Sebastian. ‘I had French toast for breakfast. It wasn’t as good as Olga’s though.’
‘Olga will make you some when you come home,’ said Charlotte, her voice rough, almost hoarse.
‘You remember we took your clothes, Sebastian, to send them to the lab for testing?’
‘Of course I remember.’
‘Well, we have a verbal report from the lab which says that the red marks on your shirt were actually blood.’
Sebastian pursed his lips, as if he might kiss someone. He sat back in his chair with one eyebrow raised.
‘Do you know whose blood might have been on your shirt, Sebastian?’
‘A bird’s.’
‘Why, did you hurt a bird?’
‘No, but I saw a dead one once and I picked it up. It was still warm and its blood was all sticky.’
‘Did you see thedead bird on the day that Ben was killed?’
‘I can’t remember exactly.’
‘Well, as it turns out, the blood that was on your shirt didn’t belong to a bird. It was human blood. It was Ben Stokes’s blood.’
Sebastian surveyed the corners of the room and Daniel was sure he saw the boy smile. It wasn’t a large smile, more a small curving of his lips. Daniel could feel his heart beating.
‘Do you know how Ben’s blood might’ve got on to your shirt, Sebastian?’
‘Maybe he had cut himself, and when we were playing it kind of rubbed on to me.’
‘Well, the special doctors that looked at your shirt are able to tell a lot of things about the kind of blood that’s on your shirt. It turns out that the blood that is on your shirt is what’s called expirated blood. That’s blood that was blown out of Ben’s mouth or nose …’
Charlotte covered her face with her hands. Her long nails reached up her forehead into the roots of her hair.
‘There’s also an aerial spatter of blood on your trousers and your shoes. That’s blood that’s been dispersed as a result of force …’
Now both of Sebastian’s eyebrows were raised. He looked up into the camera. For a moment, Daniel was transfixed. It was the sight of the pretty young boy looking upwards into the eye of authority; all the unseen people watching him, upstairs, looking at his childlike expressions and trying to find cause to blame. Daniel remembered the saints that Minnie had prayed to, her soft, full fingers fervently twirling the beads of her rosary. There had been arrows to assail St Sebastian, yet he had lived. Daniel could not remember how he had died, but it had been a violentdeath. Even as the police officers produced further evidence of Sebastian’s guilt, Daniel felt a stronger need to defend him. The witness had come forward to say that he had also seen Sebastian fighting with Ben much later in the day, in the adventure playground, after Sebastian’s mother said he returned home, although the sighting was not confirmed on CCTV. Daniel was not intimidated by this, or the forensics. He had undermined such
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