My Sister's Bones by Nuala Ellwood

Author:Nuala Ellwood
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2017-05-29T04:00:00+00:00

24

Herne Bay Police Station

36 hours detained

The air has changed inside the interview room and I am finding it difficult to breathe.

“Could we open a window?” I ask Shaw. “It’s so hot in here.”

“It’s the central heating,” she replies. “It comes on automatically. I’m afraid the window only opens slightly but I can see if it helps.”

She goes to stand up but I shake my head.

“Oh, don’t bother, it’s fine,” I say. “Let’s just carry on.”

I take off my cardigan and drape it over the back of the chair. As I sit here in my flimsy undershirt and mud-splattered jeans I feel vulnerable, exposed. As though I have no dignity left.

“Okay,” says Shaw. “Let’s continue, if you can, Kate.”

She looks down and reads from her notes.

“Nidal was playing football in the hallway. His father came out of the room and they argued. Then you told the boy that he should listen to his father and stop playing football. The boy shouted and ran away.”

It all sounds so neat and contained, nothing like how it actually was.

“What happened then?” asks Shaw.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “I can’t remember.”

“Please just try,” says Shaw.

I don’t answer. Silence seems so appealing. I feel like I have no words left.

“Perhaps if I can read you the account Graham Turner gave to Harry Vine when he returned from Aleppo,” says Shaw, her voice calm and deliberate.

“No,” I cry. “Please don’t do that.” How could Harry do this to me?

“Kate, I need to understand the conditions that led to your arrest at number 44 Smythley Road,” she says. “And part of that is to look at what happened that day in Aleppo.”

She is holding a sheet of notebook paper. So that’s all it took to sum up what happened, Graham? A few lousy paragraphs?

“‘Account given by Graham Turner,’” Shaw begins.

As she continues I put my head in my hands and try to drown out her words with the rhythm of my breathing.

“‘We had been staying in downtown Aleppo for a week and during that time Kate had befriended a young Syrian boy, the son of the family we were staying with. Her behavior went beyond the professional and I could see that she was becoming emotionally involved with the boy and his family to the detriment of our safety.’”

I think of Graham Turner, my friend, my colleague, the man who’d accompanied me through hell on so many occasions, and I wonder why he has done this to me, why he felt the need to betray me like this.

Shaw clears her throat and continues:

“‘On the afternoon of March twenty-ninth we had been disturbed by the boy kicking a football outside our room. Kate ran out to see him and the next thing I knew she had grabbed her shoes and was making her way to the shop above to find the boy. At that time of day it was a grave mistake as the district was under heavy bombardment and the shop was in a prominent position. Alarmed for her safety, I ran after her, and when I got to the door of the shop I saw her outside on the street.

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