something for us to look at,’ Murphy said, fixing Rossi with a stare.
Murphy could see the familiar darkening of the eyes in Rossi – the slight dip in the shoulders at the possibility of another woman becoming yet another statistic. Someone who couldn’t get away, couldn’t fight back, couldn’t save her life. Wasn’t allowed to.
The familiar story.
‘Let’s see if we can get any more out of her,’ Rossi said, pointing towards the door which had been left ajar – hearing footsteps descending down the stairs towards them.
‘Why do you say that about Joe, Karen?’ Murphy said, once they had settled back down into their previous positions.
‘The way he was. He was never right for her, I knew that . . . we all bloody did. She changed with him. Was totally different. I brought her up to be independent. To never make the same mistakes I made and become the trophy wife. I have a job now, but for years my life revolved round my kids. I didn’t do anything for myself, everything was about this house, my husband and kids. He never forced me into it, understand that. It was just the way I allowed things to happen. My husband is a good man – not Chloe’s real dad, but he always treated her as his own. Chloe was going to be different. She was going to be her own woman.’
‘What happened to Chloe’s father?’ Murphy said, ticking off the possibility.
‘Died when Chloe was two. Got drunk and drove into a tree in the lanes near Frankby. She doesn’t remember him at all.’
‘And she was different?’ Rossi said, now looking towards the woman and not writing in her notebook.
‘Yes. With the few boyfriends she had before, she was in control, always. They’d swap and change all the time.’ Karen gave a small laugh, cut off before it had time to have any effect. ‘Chloe would drop boys for the smallest things. The tiniest issues and they were gone. Not this one. He walked all over her. Treated her terribly. You must have heard some of the rumours?’
Murphy shook his head, whilst Rossi gave no response. Karen shrugged her shoulders and waved a hand as if it didn’t matter.
‘They were all true,’ Karen continued. ‘He was off out on his own all the time. Left her at home, crying down the phone to me. I tried, at first, to get her to see sense, but that wasn’t going to work.’
Silence grew for a few seconds. Murphy opened his mouth to speak, before Karen continued in a voice so low and angry.
‘He hit her once. Well, once I know of, anyway. When he’d come in drunk and had been due home hours earlier. Didn’t even bother calling her, just turned up in the early hours. They argued, and he slapped her. Broke down immediately, of course, saying he’d never do it again and all that
shit
they always say. She believed him, in the end. I told her to get out there and then. That it would never be just one time, but she didn’t listen. She needs him. Needed him. I don’t know why.’
‘When was this?’ Rossi said, Murphy not for the first time impressed at how she could swallow the fire back and ask the right questions.
‘About six months ago. Chloe has never mentioned it since. The bastard got her, didn’t he?’
‘We don’t know that yet,’ Murphy said, leaning forward to close the distance between them. ‘But we’re going to find out, OK? We’re going to find out what happened to Chloe.’
And he believed it.
They left Karen with the family liaison officer. Rossi checked in with the station as Murphy wrote down a few notes he would probably never read. The DC who Rossi spoke to sounded harassed from what Murphy could hear over the radio.
‘Media?’
‘Of course,’ Rossi replied, pulling her seat belt on. ‘This’ll be big.’
Murphy’s teeth tugged on his bottom lip. He allowed himself a small jot of sharp pain before snapping his own seat belt on and starting the car. ‘We’ll deal with it.’
‘You think it was him then?’ Rossi said once Murphy had turned round in
Murphy could see the familiar darkening of the eyes in Rossi – the slight dip in the shoulders at the possibility of another woman becoming yet another statistic. Someone who couldn’t get away, couldn’t fight back, couldn’t save her life. Wasn’t allowed to.
The familiar story.
‘Let’s see if we can get any more out of her,’ Rossi said, pointing towards the door which had been left ajar – hearing footsteps descending down the stairs towards them.
‘Why do you say that about Joe, Karen?’ Murphy said, once they had settled back down into their previous positions.
‘The way he was. He was never right for her, I knew that . . . we all bloody did. She changed with him. Was totally different. I brought her up to be independent. To never make the same mistakes I made and become the trophy wife. I have a job now, but for years my life revolved round my kids. I didn’t do anything for myself, everything was about this house, my husband and kids. He never forced me into it, understand that. It was just the way I allowed things to happen. My husband is a good man – not Chloe’s real dad, but he always treated her as his own. Chloe was going to be different. She was going to be her own woman.’
‘What happened to Chloe’s father?’ Murphy said, ticking off the possibility.
‘Died when Chloe was two. Got drunk and drove into a tree in the lanes near Frankby. She doesn’t remember him at all.’
‘And she was different?’ Rossi said, now looking towards the woman and not writing in her notebook.
‘Yes. With the few boyfriends she had before, she was in control, always. They’d swap and change all the time.’ Karen gave a small laugh, cut off before it had time to have any effect. ‘Chloe would drop boys for the smallest things. The tiniest issues and they were gone. Not this one. He walked all over her. Treated her terribly. You must have heard some of the rumours?’
Murphy shook his head, whilst Rossi gave no response. Karen shrugged her shoulders and waved a hand as if it didn’t matter.
‘They were all true,’ Karen continued. ‘He was off out on his own all the time. Left her at home, crying down the phone to me. I tried, at first, to get her to see sense, but that wasn’t going to work.’
Silence grew for a few seconds. Murphy opened his mouth to speak, before Karen continued in a voice so low and angry.
‘He hit her once. Well, once I know of, anyway. When he’d come in drunk and had been due home hours earlier. Didn’t even bother calling her, just turned up in the early hours. They argued, and he slapped her. Broke down immediately, of course, saying he’d never do it again and all that
shit
they always say. She believed him, in the end. I told her to get out there and then. That it would never be just one time, but she didn’t listen. She needs him. Needed him. I don’t know why.’
‘When was this?’ Rossi said, Murphy not for the first time impressed at how she could swallow the fire back and ask the right questions.
‘About six months ago. Chloe has never mentioned it since. The bastard got her, didn’t he?’
‘We don’t know that yet,’ Murphy said, leaning forward to close the distance between them. ‘But we’re going to find out, OK? We’re going to find out what happened to Chloe.’
And he believed it.
They left Karen with the family liaison officer. Rossi checked in with the station as Murphy wrote down a few notes he would probably never read. The DC who Rossi spoke to sounded harassed from what Murphy could hear over the radio.
‘Media?’
‘Of course,’ Rossi replied, pulling her seat belt on. ‘This’ll be big.’
Murphy’s teeth tugged on his bottom lip. He allowed himself a small jot of sharp pain before snapping his own seat belt on and starting the car. ‘We’ll deal with it.’
‘You think it was him then?’ Rossi said once Murphy had turned round in
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