‘He keeps telling me not to say any more,’ she says, nodding in the solicitor’s direction, ‘but what possible reason would I have to lie? Everything I’ve said is how it was, how it happened…’ She shakes her head. ‘Only now they’re telling me that Samantha doesn’t even live at Stockwell Gardens with Milo. They’re saying there’s no official trace of herat all…?’ She uses the word ‘they’ as if I’m not one of them.
‘That’s true, Tilly.’ I’m careful to keep my voice soft and measured. She’s fragile but her disbelief seems genuine, I sense it from her body language, her expressions and mannerisms.
‘Currently we have no idea where Samantha Valentine is. She isn’t officially registered to the address of the deceased, and there isn’t any trace of her ever having lived there. Tilly.’I pause. ‘Family and neighbours all say that Milo Harrison was a single man, he wasn’t engaged to anyone, and as far as they were aware, he didn’t have a steady girlfriend. They’d never seen or met or heard of anyone called Samantha Valentine, and an initial search of your phone shows no communication between you and anyone with that name.’
I train my eyes on her, release her small hand.
‘We’re doing our best to find her, Tilly, but you can see why we’re struggling here, can’t you? We can’t seem to verify who Samantha Valentine is by the usual methods. She has no social media presence, we can’t find any phone records registered to that name and there’s nothing on the electoral register… No one with the name Samantha Valentine was born in the UK on the date of birth you gave us for her, 14/03/1989, either.’
She blinks at me, frowning.
‘But thatcan’tbe.’ She shakes her head. ‘How can that possibly be?’
‘I don’t know, Tilly, I’m hoping you can help me understand this. Milo Harrison was a son and brother, he was close to his family, to his parents and siblings, they’re devastated by his death.’ She flinches, closes her eyes for a few seconds, like she’s trying to distance herself from my words. ‘They say they would’ve absolutely known if Milo and Samantha were a couple.’
‘How has any of this happened?’ She shrinks back into the plastic seat and starts sobbing. ‘His family, they’ll hate me, won’t they…? But’ – she’s spluttering and hiccupping now – ‘…he had a knife… I didn’t mean to kill him.’
I lean in closer, hand her another tissue. The last one is a wet ball of mucus and I discard it into the wastepaper bin.
‘Listen, Tilly,’ I lower my voice, ‘I need you to work with me here, OK? I need you to help me understand the truth because you’re absolutely right, none of it makes sense.’
She blows loudly into the tissue, sits up straight in the plastic chair.
‘Can I have a piece of paper and something to write with?’
‘Of course.’ I nod as I hand her a chewed-up black Bic pen and pass her a sheet of A4 paper from the table. Immediately she begins scribbling.
‘If there’s anything you need to tell me, Tilly, anything at all, now would be a good time, and I promise,’ – I place a hand over my heart, ask her to look at me, which she does – ‘I give you my word, OK? Whatever this is, we can work it out, together, you and me. All I need is for you to be honest with me.’
‘But Iambeing honest with you, Dan… there has to be some mistake. Samantha can’t have just disappeared! Someone must’ve seen her, knows where she is? What about CCTV? What about other witnesses?’
‘We’re working on it, Tilly.’
I sit back, stay silent and let my words sink in.
She stops sketching for a moment, drops the pen.
‘You don’t think… Do you think it’s possible that she’s beenlyingto me?’
Her voice drops down to a fearful whisper. ‘Perhaps Samanthaisn’twho she told me she is? Maybe she’s been, I don’t know, pretending to be someone else…? I can’t think of another explanation for all of this.’ She covers her mouth suddenly, stifling a gasp, as though it has just dawned on her that such a preposterous thought could in fact be true.
‘That’s what I’m trying to find out, Tilly.’
She’s shaking her head.
‘But… but… she told me he was beating her… that he was abusive… I saw bruises on her… no… no… I can’t believe… was she… was shelying…?’ She searches my eyes with her own. They look wide with disbelief. ‘But why? Why would she… why wouldanyonedo that…?’ She gasps again as more reality appears todawn upon her. ‘Oh my God.What does this mean for me, Dan? What will happen to me? Will I go to prison for murder? What will I tell my employers?’ She flops forwards, over the table. Her hands are shaking so badly that I simply can’t help but take hold of them again.
‘I was just protecting her, protecting myself… I didn’t want anyone to get hurt! I don’t want to go to prison! I’m not a murderer! This can’t be happening!’ She stops wailing for a moment. ‘What if something’s happened to Sam? Maybe she’s being held hostage somewhere… I don’t know, there has to be some kind of explanation for all of this… Samantha’s my friend, she wouldn’t… Oh God, Dan, I’mbeggingyou, youhaveto find her.’ She slides the sheet of paper across the table back at me.
‘That’s her,’ she says, ‘that’s Samantha.’
I look down at the surprisingly detailed sketch of a woman’s face, a pretty, oval-shaped face with wide eyes, a thin nose and a neat, enigmatic smile. It’s a good sketch. Clearly, Tilly has some artistic talent.
‘You do believe me, Dan, don’t you?’
THIRTEEN
ERIN
