I shake my head. ‘I was overruled by my commanding officer. He told me it wasn’t our mission. We were to provide “relief not rescue”, he said, and if we started pulling civilians out, a trickle would turn into a flood and we’d be overwhelmed. But the civilians, they thought we were there to rescue them, to take them somewhere safe. They all started gathering around the helicopters. When they realised we weren’t going to take them . . . it was awful. They knew the government forces were close, what would happen if they found them. One of the mothers . . .’
My throat is thick. Gilbourne gives me a sympathetic smile, waits for me to continue. I take another mouthful of wine, swallow it down painfully.
‘One of the mothers had a baby only a few months old. She made her way to the front of the crowd and she was talking to me non-stop in Arabic, wouldn’t leave me alone. She singled me out, not because I was in charge but because I was a woman, I think she thought I would be a mother too. When she realised we were leaving, she . . .’ I pause to take another breath, determined to keep my voice steady. ‘She handed her baby over to me. She gave me her little boy, told me his name was Hassan, just put him in my arms and backed away. I guess she thought I’d be able to keep him safe. And so I’m standing there, surrounded by my guys and a crowd of desperate civilians, the rotors are turning on the helicopters, dust flying everywhere, and I’m right in the middle of it all holding this tiny baby blinking up at me with his big brown eyes. It was just crazy.’
‘So what did you do?’
The tears are heavy behind my eyes. ‘I’d been told point blank we couldn’t bring civilians out.Relief not rescue, like my CO had said. So I handed her little boy back to her. She was crying and pleading and the interpreter was telling her we’d be back the following day with more supplies. We got on the helicopters and flew back to the ship.’ I take a deep breath, blow it out again. ‘When we flew back in the next morning, we could see the smoke from miles away as we came in. One of the pro-government militias found them during the night. They’d torched everything that would burn and killed everyone they could find.’
‘Jesus,’ Gilbourne breathed.
‘Men, women, children. All of them. Lined them up and shot them. Hunted down anyone who tried to run. I found the mother’s body in a drainage gully at the edge of the camp. She’d tried to hide, tried to shield Hassan, to cover his body with hers.’
He lets the silence spin out for a long moment before replying, his voice quiet. ‘I’m sorry, Ellen.’
I shake my head. ‘None of it made any difference. All of our ships, all the helicopters and planes and personnel, all of the assets we had, none of it madeanydifference to those people. When my tour was up, I put in my papers to resign.’
‘You did what you could.’
‘But it wasn’t enough.’ I look down at the floor, still trying to put the memory back in its place and close the door on it, knowing that I’ll dream about it tonight anyway. ‘That’s why I wanted to help Kathryn. It sounds stupid but I thought, maybe this was my chance to put things right. To do the right thing.’
‘You’ve done more than enough already,’ he says. ‘You brought that child back to her family.’
I pour the last inch of wine into his cup, sitting on the desk chair so I can reach.
‘The DNA test on Mia,’ I say. ‘How come it hasn’t been done already?’
‘The grandparents were reluctant at first. They had to give consent for DNA to be taken from a minor, and I think they just thought they were going to be able to keep her a secret forever. When we finally persuaded them, Nathan went out there to take an initial swab but . . . There were issues with it.’
‘What kind of issues?’
‘The lab kicked it back to us as invalid, which can mean any number of things.’
‘Such as?’
‘Theoretically,’ he says, ‘it might indicate the sample had been interfered with in some way. Rendered unusable. I mean, people think DNA is infallible, that it’s some kind of magic bullet, they watchCSI Miamiand think it solves everything likethat.’ He snaps his fingers. ‘But the reality is that it’s not always straight-forward, sometimes things get messed up. Hence we’re going back on Monday to try again with another sample. I probably should have just overseen the whole process myself, right from the start.’
‘So it’s possible that Holt tampered with the first sample?’
Gilbourne stares into his wine, swirling it slowly in the bottom of the cup.
‘Well,’ he says slowly. ‘Yes. I suppose it’spossible. But I can’t imagine why he’d do that.’
‘Angela Clifton doesn’t trust him.’
‘No,’ he says. ‘She doesn’t.’
I push on, emboldened by the wine.
‘She thinks he’s got his own agenda.’
‘Meaning?’
‘I don’t know.’ I’d been turning it over and over in my mind on the drive back from Prestwood Ash – the strength of Angela’s suspicion, of her instincts about the young detective sergeant. ‘Maybe he’s trying to protect someone, or the opposite? Make the evidence point in a different direction, at least.’
‘Hang on, Ellen.’ He frowns, lines bunching on his forehead. ‘That’s a pretty bloody serious allegation.’
‘I know it is.’
