‘No. No one. Only you.’
‘So you didn’t touch the body? You left it exactly as you found it?’ It’s only as this question leaves my mouth that I realize what’s going through my head. Am I seriously considering not going to the police with this? We can’t possibly keep this to ourselves.
‘Yeah. No. I mean, I took the necklace.’
‘What?’ My heart stops. Then stutters as it starts up again. Shit! I’d forgotten all about the necklace.
‘That pathetic his-and-her necklace. The wolf one. He was still wearing it. He had no right to wear it after we split up. I took it. I wanted to get rid of it.’
Did Iris leave a fingerprint on the body? Her DNA? If so, how will they find out it’s hers? Can the police swab suspects for DNA even if they’re minors? These questions streak through my mind. I can picture the words; I even visualize the question marks. My heart sinks.
‘Mum?’
‘So you did touch the body.’
‘No! No, I was careful not to. I was really careful not to … you know …’
Evidently, she wasn’t careful enough. She left a footprint at the crime scene.
Tears are coursing down Iris’s cheeks now and she hides her face behind her hands. ‘I used a tissue and pulled it. It came easily. I think the lace must have been a bit broken. I know I shouldn’t have done it. I didn’t think it through.’
It’s all credible. On the surface. It’s just that something doesn’t add up. Iris has changed her story, but is this version any more truthful than the previous one? What’s the matter with me? This is my daughter. But that’s just it. I know my daughter. And I can tell when she’s not being honest. She avoids eye contact, has been known to turn on the waterworks – although I think her tears are genuine in this instance – and hesitates as she tries to work out what to say next.
But it’s more than that. Why don’t I believe her?
‘Mum?’ Her voice is small, scared. It reminds me of when she was a little girl and needed reassurance that everything was going to be OK – after a nightmare, or when she was ill, or when she’d fallen out with Millie, as best friends are prone to do from time to time as they grow up.
‘It will all be OK,’ I say, although I don’t believe that either. ‘I’ll talk to your dad, see what he thinks. In the meantime, don’t repeat any of this to anyone. All right?’
She nods. And gives me a hug, which is uncharacteristic for Iris. She grew out of cuddles long ago, much to my disappointment. She’s not as tactile as I am and she thinks I’m too ‘touchy-feely’.
I kiss the top of her head and get up. I feel an almost irrepressible urge to go to Ash, to talk all this through with the one person I can confide in and who loves Iris as much as I do. He’s the one who brought up the footprint in the first place and an irrational spike of anger rises in me because of this, as if he’s the one who caused the problem.
But Daniel is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs. ‘What was all that about?’
I try to tease my face into an innocent expression. ‘All what?’
‘I heard Iris slamming her door and crying. You’ve been crying, too.’ He reaches out with both hands and strokes my cheeks. I must have panda eyes. I put on make-up this morning, for once, before going to Ash’s for the – what would you call it? Interview? Meeting?
I want more than anything to go to Ash. But I can’t tell my partner I’m going round to my ex-husband’s. For the second time today. And I should be able to confide in my partner. I sigh, and taking one of his hands in mine, I lead him into the kitchen, where I make sure both doors are closed before I talk to him. A watered-down version. But the truth. I owe him that much. He’s my partner and Iris’s stepfather. And I could really use his support. I sit at the table, but he remains standing.
‘This morning, Ian let something slip as he was leaving. Something about a footprint in the woods, near … um … Joshua Knoll’s body.’ I pause, trying to gauge Daniel’s reaction so far and also work out what to say next.
‘Go on.’
‘Ash told me what Ian had said. I didn’t know Iris had overheard our conversation until just now when I found her shoes in the bin.’
Daniel doesn’t speak for a few seconds, but I can see by his expression that he has joined the dots. ‘Let me get this straight,’ he says. ‘Iris was at the scene of the crime and she is covering up that fact up by getting rid of the evidence. Is that about the gist?’
Instantly, I regret telling him. I warned Iris not to say a word to anyone, and here I am, blatantly disregarding my own advice. His eyes bore into me and I feel like a naughty schoolgirl about to be reprimanded by a teacher. I try to stare him down.
‘I hope you’re going to go to the police with this, Carla.’
‘I don’t know what to do.’ It comes out as a whine.
‘Carla, you have to go to the police.’
That makes me prickly, Daniel telling me what to do. I want him to talk through my options with me. I need him to be on my side, no matter what I decide. ‘If I go to the police, they might think she killed Joshua,’ I point out.
