Scrolling through the history directory, she runs her finger down the screen. One site comes up regularly: Teenbuzz.
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a chat room. Loads of my friends use it.’
‘Sienna?’
‘Sure.’
‘What’s your username?’
She looks at me sheepishly. ‘Madforyou.’
‘What about Sienna’s?’
‘She’s Hippychick.’
The site has a variety of different chat rooms with names like ‘Just Friends’, ‘Young at Heart’ and the ‘Chillout Room’. Some are forums on music, movies or relationships, but all come with a list of warnings, advising users not to give out personal contact details, addresses or to use their real names.• You are strongly advised to NEVER meet anyone that you know just from the Internet.• Predatory, threatening, harassing and illegal behaviour will not be tolerated. The police will be contacted and offenders prosecuted.
‘How often did Sienna use the chat room?’
‘Pretty much every day.’
Charlie can see where I’m going with this. ‘It’s really safe, Dad. We’re not stupid - we’re not going to tell people where we live. We just chat.’
‘Did Sienna have any favourite people she chatted with?’
Charlie falters. ‘I guess.’
‘Who?’
‘There was this one guy, Rockaboy.’
‘What do you know about him?’
She shrugs. ‘They used to meet.’
‘Where?’
‘In a private chat room.’
‘They were alone?’
‘Chill out, Dad, it’s not like you can get pregnant typing messages to someone.’
‘Did you ever chat to this Rockaboy?’
Charlie brushes hair away from her eyes. ‘Sometimes.’
‘Did he say anything about himself?’
‘You’re not supposed to do that.’
‘He must have given some clues.’
She sits cross-legged on her bed, balancing her plate on her knee. ‘He likes some of the indie bands like Arctic Monkeys and The Kooks. He doesn’t like school very much.’
‘Did he like the same music as Sienna?’
Charlie frowns. ‘How did you know that?’
‘What about his favourite subject at school?’
‘Drama.’
Feeling uncomfortable, Charlie changes the subject. ‘Are you coming Tuesday night?’
‘Where?’
‘To the school musical.’
‘I thought it was postponed.’
‘Mr Ellis has decided to go ahead. We’re giving one performance only. Jodie Marks is going to play Sienna’s role. Do you think Sienna is going to mind?’
Charlie doesn’t know about the suicide attempt and I’m not going to tell her. It can be something else she blames me for later.
‘Can I go see her?’ she asks.
‘Not today.’
Side by side we walk up the hill, filling the silence with our breathing. Ruiz limps slightly on his shorter leg - the legacy of a high-velocity bullet that tore through his upper thigh leaving a four-inch exit hole. A second bullet amputated his wedding finger. That was five years ago when he was found floating in the Thames, bleeding out, without any memory of the shooting.
Ruiz survived the bullet and the memories coming back. Some people are meant to prevail. They stay calm and collected under extreme pressure, while others panic and unravel. We each have a crisis personality - a mindset that kicks in when things go badly wrong. True survivors know when to act and when to hold back, choosing the right moment and making the right choice. Psychologists call it ‘active passiveness’ - when doing something can mean doing nothing. Action can mean inaction. This is the paradox that can save your life.
‘Ellis used an Internet chat room to reach Sienna,’ I say.
‘How did she get access to a computer?’
‘She must have borrowed one at Oakham House. It could also explain why her laptop was stolen that night.’
‘He’s covering his tracks.’
Above us the sun radiates through thin gauze-like cloud, but still seems bright enough to snap me in half. Even before I reach the house I notice the unmarked police car. DS Abbott and Safari Roy are sitting on a low brick wall, eating sandwiches from grease-stained paper bags.
Monk chews slowly, making us wait.
‘We had a complaint,’ he says. ‘Natasha Ellis says you turned up at her house on Friday. Is that true?’
Before I can answer, Ruiz interrupts. ‘It was my fault, Detective. I went to see Gordon Ellis.’
Monk looks at him doubtfully. ‘Why was that?’
‘Sienna Hegarty had taken an overdose and was in hospital. She said that Gordon Ellis had taken liberties with her.’
‘Liberties?’
Ruiz can make a lie sound noble. ‘Yes, sir. Liberties. I was angry. I may have done something I regretted if it weren’t for Joe. He stopped me and calmed me down.’
Monk’s not buying a word of it. He turns his gaze to mine. ‘So let me get this straight, Professor. The only reason you were outside Gordon Ellis’s house was to prevent a disturbance?’
Monk wants me to agree with the statement.
Ruiz pipes up, ‘That’s what happened.’
‘I’m asking the Professor,’ says the DS, waiting.
I look at Ruiz and then at Safari Roy, who is nodding his head up and down slowly.
‘Yes,’ I say, ‘that’s what happened.’
Monk opens the lid of a rubbish bin on the footpath and drops his sandwich wrapper inside.
‘Mrs Ellis must have been mistaken.’ He lets the statement hang in the air. ‘If she’d been correct we would have had to arrest you, Professor, for breaching a protection order.’
I don’t reply.
‘Sienna Hegarty is being interviewed tomorrow and we’re going to investigate her allegations. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to impede or jeopardise our inquiries.’
‘No.’
Monk seems satisfied, and signals to Safari Roy, who has dripped egg yolk on to his tie and is trying to wipe it off with a handkerchief.
An electric window glides lower.
‘Have a good day, gentlemen,’ says Monk. ‘Mind how you go.’
40
