Afterwards, satisfied with his work, the Man in Black spoons cat food into the cat’s bowl, strokes it once more, smiling at the feline’s disloyal purrs and leaves the house the same way he entered.
Chapter 19
Bradford
There was no hint of a breeze, yet Corrine McGuire found herself pulling her shawl round her shoulders as she faced Alice and the quirky man that Alice had introduced as Professor Sebastian Carlton, a forensic psychologist, with expertise in profiling who was helping her son investigate the death of that poor woman. Never had she seen anyone less in tune with her concept of how a profiler would look. But Corrine was never one to judge a book by its cover. Ignoring his rather startlingly bright attire, careful to maintain social distance and enjoying the rather old-fashioned way he bowed at her, she smiled at the man. Sebastian Carlton was a dark horse, she was sure.
Despite realising that it would be prejudicial if Gus were to interview his own mother, she took his absence as a personal slight. The initial interview had been conducted by Alice and Taffy and this was a ‘follow-up one’, but she’d not seen her son since their argument the other night and she was anxious. She’d tried to phone him. Fergus had tried to phone him, but he’d sent the calls to voicemail. As it was, she wondered just how long Nancy would be able to keep him as Senior Investigating Officer. Impartiality dictated he would be taken off the case, and that would be one more mark against her. Besides, there was no way he would allow himself to be completely ousted and the last thing she wanted was for him to lose his job over this. If only he hadn’t inherited the stubborn gene from both his parents.
Corrine understood her son so well. He was hurting, not just because of this, but because of everything with Gabriella and his sister Katie. He had every right to hurt, but she was also aware that her son was very like her in that his past hurts left lasting scars. She could only hope that the many mental scars he’d suffered over the past few years, combined with the ones inflicted by her secrecy, wouldn’t create a gulf between them. That was something she’d be unable to bear.
Alice, as familiar with the senior McGuire house as she was with the one she shared as a house mate with Angus, made the coffee and suggested they sit outside. Now, sipping it, Corrine braced herself for the interrogation about to take place. Although Alice was compassionate, she was a police officer first and foremost, and there was something in the professor’s eyes, behind his thick glasses that told Corrine he could be both insightful and incisive. Earlier, she’d waved her husband off, saying she would prefer to do this on her own. Now, she regretted that decision.
As if prearranged, Carlton took copies of the sketches from a folder he had put on the table and placed the sketch of the group of children with her standing apart from the group in front of Corrine. ‘Can you tell me a little about this sketch, Corrine. You don’t mind if I call you Corrine, do you?’
Eyes fastened on the image, Corrine shook her head. ‘No, no that’s fine.’
‘We know that it was your foster brother Rory Robertson who sketched this. Was he your friend?’
Corrine frowned, frustration making her bite her bottom lip. ‘I … I didn’t really have friends – not then. I had a difficult time in foster care because I became selectively mute for a long time. I also have memory gaps for long periods throughout my childhood.’
Carlton sipped his coffee, a benign smile on his lips when he replaced his cup on the saucer. ‘Do you remember Rory?’
Corrine nodded. ‘I spent a lot of time with him. He didn’t mind that I didn’t speak, and I enjoyed watching him draw. He was so good – so talented.’ Her hands were kneading together now, her eyes, so like her son’s, darting about the garden.
‘Did he protect you from these children?’
Corrine looked down at the photo that Carlton had tapped with his forefinger. And a raw snort came from her mouth. ‘No, he didn’t protect me. Rory was as much of an outcast as I was – anyone who was different was and he was different because he’d rather draw than do anything else.’
‘So, you stuck together, yes?’
Corrine nodded, then her breathing became shallow. ‘We did, for a time – then something happened and…’
Carlton replaced the first sketch with another one. The one with a naked woman hanging from a hook. ‘Is this why you were separated? Why you were moved to a different foster carer?’
Corrine, seemingly unaware of the tears trickling down her cheek, shook her head from side to side as if trying to dislodge something from her brain. ‘I just can’t remember.’ She looked right into Sebastian’s eyes, almost as if she’d forgotten Alice was there too, and sobbing said, ‘I know Rory’s mum hung herself – I know that. I know that because I was told. I just don’t remember it – there’s so much that’s just a blank and it scares me.’
Sebastian Carlton studied Corrine McGuire for a long time, his expression kind, his eyes thoughtful. Taking off his glasses, he used the edge of his T-shirt to wipe them before speaking. ‘I think you need to address these gaps in your memory, Corrine. I can help you to do that. I know an excellent psychiatrist trained in trauma and releasing memories through hypnosis. I think it’s time, don’t you?’
Corrine bit her lip, her gaze drifting off into the distance. Would it make her freer to know the truth or would it cripple
