Page 21 of The Guilty Girl

‘This looks bad,’ Hannah muttered.

Unable to contain her eagerness for information, Lottie leaned across the table. ‘What does?’

The girl held up her hands. ‘This … under my nails. It’s blood, isn’t it? And you took a sample from me for a DNA test.’

‘We have to do that with everyone who was at the party. To rule them in or out of the investigation.’

Hannah’s eyes widened like china saucers, circled with remnants of black liner. Lottie could see where blonde extensions had come loose from her long hair and hung fuzzily from their clips. No scratches or cuts were visible, and she hadn’t noticed anything incriminating when the girl had stood up in her underwear at home.

Despite that, things were not looking good for Hannah Byrne. The halter top and skirt that Kirby had taken from the laundry basket by the communal washing machine were spotted with a few dark stains. A simple test confirmed the presence of blood. Further analysis would prove if it was Lucy’s. Sooner rather than later, Lottie hoped.

A knock on the door and Babs Byrne was ushered inside, followed by Kirby, who took a seat beside Lottie.

‘I got delayed,’ Babs said breathlessly, pulling out a chair to sit beside her daughter. ‘It was impossible to get someone to mind Olly. Mrs Delaney is sick with the flu. I think it’s only a cold, but anyway, I ended up leaving him with Krysta in the dry cleaner’s. This better not take long. The fumes in that place can’t be good for him.’ She unbuttoned her cardigan. ‘You said there was an assault last night, and Krysta told me she heard that it was Lucy McAllister. God, if it’s true … poor Lucy.’

Lottie concentrated on Hannah’s reaction to this news. She appeared paler and her eyes even wider, if that was possible. She tore at her hair until she caught a few tendrils and wrapped them around her trembling fingers.

‘What happened to Lucy?’ she whispered. ‘Is that why I’m here? Please tell me. I need to know what’s going on. Oh God, I feel so sick. What’s wrong with me?’

Ignoring her pleas, Lottie directed her attention to Babs.

‘This interview is being recorded as evidence of our conversation. Your daughter has not been arrested at this time. We have taken a sample of a substance from her nails to be analysed, and a sample of her DNA. Her rucksack and clothing are also being examined. She has been fingerprinted. At the moment this process is in order to eliminate her from our enquiries.’

‘I never gave permission for any of that. You had no right to—’ Babs was quickly losing her composure.

Lottie cut in. ‘There was visible evidence of blood on your daughter’s hands.’

‘I told you it was dirt. She fell … or something.’ Babs grabbed Hannah’s hands and slapped open the palms, then turned them over, pointed at the fingernails. ‘It’s just … dirt. What is going on here?’

Lottie nodded at Kirby, who pronounced the details of those present and the usual wording for the recording that preceded interviews.

‘Do I need a solicitor for my daughter?’ Babs nervously eyed the light flashing on the equipment.

‘That’s entirely within your rights,’ Lottie said.

‘I don’t trust you, Inspector. Nor you.’ The woman pointed at Kirby with a shaky finger before stabbing Lottie with angry eyes. ‘You’ll try and pin this assault or whatever it is on my daughter. Is Lucy dead? You have to believe me, my little girl wouldn’t hurt a—’

‘Dead?’ Hannah gulped loudly and a green hue crept over her cheeks. She gagged, gulped again, and before either Lottie or Kirby could move out of the way, a spurt of bile spewed from her mouth out across the table. Lottie grabbed for her notebook and file, rescuing them. Kirby jumped up and started mopping the pungent mess with the useless tissues.

‘S-sorry,’ the girl cried. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘What is wrong with you?’ Babs said.

‘I feel like my head is going to split open. Oh God—’

‘You hear that, Inspector? Hannah is ill. She has Mrs Delaney’s flu. Call a doctor for her. Please.’

‘I want to go home,’ Hannah whined.

‘You can go home soon,’ Lottie said. ‘Can you answer a few simple questions first?’

‘I didn’t do anything.’ After wiping her mouth and then her eyes, Hannah said, ‘Tell me, please, is Lucy dead?’

‘I’m afraid so,’ Kirby said as Lottie faltered. He pushed the almost empty tissue box forward as Hannah clamped a hand to her mouth.

‘Wh-what happened to her?’

‘We were hoping you could help us with that,’ Lottie said. ‘You were at the party, right?’