Jane was about to unleash a scathing assault on her husband’s naivety but the words were checked by a figure appearing over them, a silhouette backlit by the sun. Fists clenched at his side and barely controlled fury on his face, it was evident that someone else also knew about Ken and Holly.
Chapter Twenty
Tom Janssen parked the car in front of the police station. Getting out of the car, he spied a lone figure hovering at the nearby bus stop. It was Mark McCall, and he seemed far more interested in them than the timetable he was supposedly reading. Acting on a hunch, he indicated to Greave. She followed his eyes and nodded.
“I’ll head up to the ops room and see if Eric is back from the school,” she said.
Janssen approached. Mark shifted his weight between his feet, glancing sideways at the detective. His face was drawn, eyes sunken. The lad appeared not to have slept well. “Hello Mark. Shouldn’t you be in school today?”
“I didn’t fancy it today. Everyone will be talking, pointing at me.”
Janssen understood. He was an awkward boy with few friends and a difficult homelife. Holly was the rock Mark anchored himself to. Now she was gone and most of those present at the party would know she left with him. Despite the discrete nature of their investigation rumours would manifest, it was inevitable. “You going somewhere?” he asked, glancing at the timetable. Mark looked confused, confirming his suspicion. The boy was waiting to see one of the detectives. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“No. Not really.” Mark glanced around and then he sat down on the grass verge alongside the road. Janssen reluctantly followed suit, keen to put the boy at ease. “I miss her.” His words were heartfelt.
“Your relationship with Holly was important to you.” Janssen appreciated Mark’s sense of loss. “Do you feel a bit lost without her?”
“Yes,” Mark replied quietly. “It was always going to happen, I guess.” That threw Janssen slightly, for a moment he was concerned. “She was always going to leave me at some point.”
“Did she talk about it, leaving?”
“She didn’t want to be a doctor, I know that!” Mark almost spat the words out, a flash of anger crossing his face but it soon dissipated to be replaced by one of resignation. “She wanted to be a creator. An artist.”
“I’ve seen some of her pictures,” Janssen said, remembering the drawings taken from Holly’s bedroom. “She kept them hidden. Was that from her parents?”
Mark nodded.
“They wouldn’t approve.”
“They thought art was a waste of time,” he said. “Something others did, for them to enjoy, but nothing more than a time-consuming hobby.”
“Did she ever draw you?” Janssen asked, remembering the different images, wondering if one of them was Mark.
“Once,” he said, his face splitting a broad grin which faded rapidly. “It didn’t look much like me, though. Holly loved drawing but… she wasn’t the best.”
Janssen held the sketches they found in his mind. Some were great, others less so. If Holly didn’t draw them, then who did? “Did she show you the sketches she had? The ones in her bedroom?” Mark went quiet, looking down to the ground between his feet as a lorry rumbled past, the only noise to disrupt their conversation. “Were you ever in her room?”
“A few times,” Mark replied, chewing on his lower lip. “If her parents were out or it was late. They were heavy sleepers and their bedroom was on the other side of the house. The way the bricks meet at the junction between the walls outside Holly’s bedroom make it easy to climb up. They’re pretty much footholds. You can get in through her bedroom window without ever setting foot inside the rest of the house.”
“Holly encouraged this?”
“Sometimes, yes.” Mark appeared lost. As if the memory was too painful to picture. “I would stay the night on the floor, leave before anyone got up.”
“You wouldn’t sleep with her? In her bed, I mean?” He was attempting to figure out how far their intimacy went without scaring the boy back into his shell. Mark shook his head in response to the question.
“Holly wouldn’t. Sometimes she would kiss me… let me kiss her… even touch her occasionally but we never did much else. I’m not daft. I think she felt sorry for me. That’s why she let me stay over. It was on nights when my dad was at his worst. Since my brothers left, he’s worse than ever.” Mark’s gaze drifted towards some far away point in the distance.
They sat together in silence for a few minutes, Janssen thinking through Mark’s portrayal of their relationship. His description of their interactions came across as honest, very matter of fact. He pondered whether he should ask the next question. If it was fair to. “Did you know Holly was pregnant?” Mark was visibly shocked. Too strong a reaction to be faked, he was almost certain. “Have you any idea who the father might have been?”
“No, sorry.” Janssen scrutinised the boy. Apart from fleeting facial expressions and occasional outbursts that quickly subsided, he gave away little in regards to his emotions. Each response was measured, dead pan. The outbursts, however, gave Janssen pause for thought. Although, they appeared to pass quickly, were he to be in a fit of pique how quickly would they subside then? Two minutes? Three? Perhaps enough time to strangle a petite girl like Holly Bettany for sure. “It doesn’t surprise me that she was seeing someone else,” Mark said, speaking softly and without judgement. “Holly was aware of how attractive she was to all the boys. I always thought I was lucky she wanted to spend as much time with me as she did.”
“When you were in her room did Holly ever show you her laptop?” he asked. Mark nodded. “Do you know where she got it? Her parents said it wasn’t hers.”
“She
