Over a year later. She’d been in hospital for quite a while, then she’d been at home with her parents recuperating for a long time. Anyway, I F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L
2 3 3
had a poky little bedsit then—it used to be Kirsten’s—and she came to stay for a while. September 1989, I think it was, not long before term started. We had a lot to drink that first night, and she said some very odd things. Her behavior quite frightened me, in fact.”
“What odd things?”
“I can’t remember the details, just that it was creepy, you know?
She was talking about an eye for an eye and saying she felt like a victim of AIDS or vampirism.”
“AIDS?”
“She didn’t mean it literally. I told you she was talking crazy. She didn’t have AIDS, at least not as far as I knew. No, she meant like some sort of contagion she’d caught from her attacker. I told her it was crazy talk and she stopped. That’s all I remember. But it gave me a chill at the time. Still, I thought, better out than bottled up inside.”
“She spoke about revenge?”
“An eye for an eye, yes. She said again that if she knew who it was she’d kill him.”
“Did she give any indication that she did know?”
“No. How could she?”
“Sorry, go on.”
Sarah gave a nervous laugh. “It was just the wine talking, really.
We were into our second bottle by then. Anyway, things went on pretty much as normal for the next while, then term started.”
“So Kirsten was staying with you all the time she was up north that September?”
“Yes. Until the middle of October, I think.”
“You don’t sound so certain. Are you sure?”
Sarah turned away. “That’s what I told the police.”
“But is it true?”
She studied her fingernails. “Well, you know, she sort of came and went.”
“Came and went?”
“Yes. She spent a few days walking in the Dales. Okay?”
“Were you with her?”
“No. She wanted some time by herself.”
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P E T E R R O B I N S O N
“When was this exactly?”
“I can’t remember. It was so long ago. September, though, I think.
Soon after she came to stay.”
“Did you tell the police about this?”
“I . . . no. She asked me not to.”
“Any idea why?”
“No. I mean . . . look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t have a very good opinion of the police back then. The last thing Kirsten needed was any hassle from them. She’d suffered enough.”
“Any particu lar reason you didn’t like the police?”
Sarah shrugged. “I was just a radical, that’s all, and a feminist. They seemed to be only interested in upholding archaic laws made by men and in supporting the status quo.”
“I used to think that, too,” said Annie. “Of course, it might have been more true back then than now, but there are a few dinosaurs left.”
“I still can’t say they’re my favorites,” said Sarah, “but I’ve developed a lot more respect over the years, and I don’t generalize as much as I used to. I don’t practice criminal law, but I’ve come across a few good police off icers in my line of work. It’s as you say, there are dinosaurs. Bad apples, too, I suppose.”
“Oh, yes,” said Annie, thinking of Kev Templeton. He might not be a bad apple in the sense of being crooked, but he was certainly a shit of the first degree.
“But back then you lied to them?”
“I suppose so. Honestly, I’d forgotten all about it. Am I in trouble?”
“I don’t think anyone really cares about an eighteen-year-old lie, except that it might be relevant today.”
“I don’t see how.”
“What did happen?”
