A pause. ‘Any luck with the riddle?’ she asked.
He shrugged.
‘I’ll take that as a no. Just wanted to let you know that Abigail Fuller, the girl who flattened me...she's in briefing room two with the social worker.’
‘Okay?’
‘Well, I thought you might be interested to hear, she’s started speaking.’
*
Abigail Fuller looked so small. He watched her through the one-sided mirror sitting daintily with the social worker, a podgy man of around fifty with thick grey hair and an equally thick beard.
The pair was sitting quietly, neither of them speaking, but the girl, legs dangling over the edge of her chair, looked somehow different. The traces of pallid shock that marred her face earlier were gone. What remained was a healthy-looking, pretty, ten year old girl. Did she know what had happened to her and her parents over the last few days, or was she so zoned out and traumatized by it all, she had blocked it from memory?
She didn’t look traumatized, or zoned out.
Pushing his way into the briefing room York was greeted by dubious eyes. He couldn’t blame them for their scepticism; it had been a strange morning, and he wasn’t exactly a picture of health.
‘Hello,’ he said with the least fabricated smile he could muster. ‘My name’s Nicolas.’
Abigail Fuller didn’t reply, but the social worker held out his hand. ‘Hi Nicolas, I’m Roy. Roy Sunnily.’
He took Sunnily’s hand and shook it. The man had a firm grip.
‘Abigail,’ Sunnily murmured, ‘would you like to introduce yourself to Nicolas?’
York decided instantly that he liked Roy Sunnily. Not only did he have the gentlest voice attached to a gentler manner, but his name suited him perfectly.
The girl remained silent, examining York with wary yet strikingly beautiful green eyes. Eventually she muttered, ‘Is that your full name?’
York smiled. ‘Nope. Nicolas Alfred York is my full name.’
‘Alfred?’
‘Yep, named after my dad’s favourite film director, Alfred Hitchcock.’
‘Wow,’ the girl proclaimed. ‘Cruel.’
‘Could’ve been worse. I should just thank my lucky stars I didn’t get lumbered with Quentin or Ridley.’
The girl didn’t smile. Instead she glanced up to the ceiling, at nothing.
‘How are you holding up, Abigail?’ he asked. ‘Can I get you anything?’
Eyes fixed to the ceiling, she said, ‘Keanu Reeves, perhaps?’
York’s smile broadened. ‘Only if I get Michelle Pfeiffer.’
‘Ha, in your dreams!’
‘Hey, us oldies are allowed crushes too.’
Abigail offered the faintest of smiles. ‘I think I’ll just have some water.’
The girl’s level of maturity was astounding, York thought, and she seemed incredibly calm, like she was talking with friends in the school playground.
Signalling the uniform outside the room, York asked him to fetch a glass of water.
‘So, Abbey,’ he continued, ‘I’m guessing you have lots of questions about the last couple of days?’
A brief shake of the head.
No.
‘You don’t? There’s nothing you’d like to talk about?’
‘I’m sorry I hit that lady,’ she uttered. ‘I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.’
‘Holly? Oh, she’s okay. She knows you didn’t mean it.’
She glanced down at her shoes. ‘I…I…’
‘Abbey,’ Sunnily cut in, ‘is there something you’d like to tell us?’
Another shake of the head.
‘If there’s anything you can remember about the last couple of nights, anything at all,’ said York. ‘You see, there’s a bad man out there and we need to catch him before he hurts anyone.’
‘Anyone else, you mean?’
York caught Sunnily's eye. The counsellor's apologetic face told him that the subject of the parents had already been broached.
‘Abbey, look, I’m not going to try and fool you or treat you like a child. I’m very sorry for what happened to your parents –’
‘No you’re not! That’s just something policemen say to make people feel better. Anyway, I’m not sorry they’re dead. The world is nicer without them.’
‘Abbey,’ said York gently, ‘do you know anything about a secret hiding place in your bedroom?’ He winced at the question, but for his own peace of mind he needed to know if Abbey had ever been exposed to the VHS material. The image of Frasier’s face and sandy locks seeped into his thoughts.
‘Yes,’ she muttered. ‘I know about the secret hiding place.’
‘Did you ever look inside?’
The girl remained silent and glanced back at her shoes.
‘It’s okay, Abbey,’ he added, ‘you’re free to speak here, no one’s going to get mad.’
‘I never looked in there. I wasn’t allowed.’
Very briefly Roy Sunnily’s eyes flickered in York’s direction. The girl was lying.
‘Since the last time you saw your mum and dad,’ he probed, ‘where have you been?’
The girl looked blank.
‘Did you leave the apartment, or were you there all along?’
‘I hardly left my bedroom. I wasn’t allowed out by myself. But my parents weren’t there, so I went out for food a couple of times.’
Looking into Abbey’s green eyes, he hesitated. ‘Was there anyone else in the apartment in the last couple of days? Anybody you didn’t know?’
The uniform came back with the water. The girl took it from him and held it with both hands, her gaze fixated on the glass.
‘Abbey?’
‘One night I was sleeping and a noise woke me. I thought mum and dad were back so I got out of bed and went down the corridor. All the lights were off, which was weird. Then I saw…’
Roy Sunnily rested his elbows on his knees and leaned forward.
‘What did you see, Abbey?’
‘There was a man. He was wearing black, all black. Like he’d just stepped out of midnight.’
Like he’d just stepped out of midnight..?
‘What did he look like, can you describe him?’
‘He was…normal. He wasn’t tall but he wasn’t short. Not fat, not thin. Dark hair. But he was mostly in shadow. He walked into the kitchen carrying some kind of box. I was there in
