I never gave them any.’
‘So you didn’t give the younger children anything that might have made them fall asleep more quickly?’
‘Of course not!’
‘Were there any medicines like that at the farm? Any sleeping pills or liquids?’
‘No, never. Stuff like tha’ wuzn’ allowed.’
‘Emily says she didn’t like her drink, and poured it away,’ said Robin. ‘And she told me that after everyone else was asleep, you helped Daiyu out of the dormitory window.’
‘That didn’ happen. That never happened. That’s a lie,’ said Carrie. ‘I never, never put her out of a window.’
She seemed far more distressed about this allegation than she’d been while discussing the drowning.
‘So Emily’s making that up?’
‘Or she dreamed it. She could of dreamed it.’
‘Emily says Daiyu did quite a bit of sneaking around at the farm,’ said Robin. ‘She claimed to be doing magic with older children in the woods and the barns.’
‘Well, I never saw her sneakin’ around.’
‘Emily also told me Daiyu sometimes had forbidden food and small toys, things the other children weren’t allowed. Did you get those for her?’
‘No, of course not! I couldn’ve done, even if I’d wan’ed. You weren’ allowed money. I never went to the shops. Nobody did. It wuzn’ allowed.’
A short silence followed these words. Carrie watched Strike taking his mobile out of his pocket. Colour was coming and going in her face, and the hand with the henna tattoo was now frantically twisting her wedding and engagement rings.
Strike had deliberately left the Polaroids of the naked youths in pig masks at the office today. Since Reaney had knocked them to the floor during his interview, Strike had rethought the advisability of handing these original pieces of evidence to angry or frightened interviewees.
‘I’d like you to look at these photos,’ he told Carrie. ‘There are six of them. You can swipe right to see the others.’
He stood up to hand his mobile to Carrie. She began to visibly shake again as she looked down at the screen.
‘We know the blonde is you,’ said Strike.
Carrie opened her mouth, but no sound came out at first. Then she whispered,
‘It’s not me.’
‘I’m afraid I don’t believe you,’ said Strike. ‘I think that’s you, and the man with the skull tattoo is Jordan Reaney—’
‘It’s not.’
‘Who is he, then?’
There was a long pause. Then Carrie whispered,
‘Joe.’
‘What’s his surname?’
‘I can’ remember.’
‘Was Joe still at the farm when you left it?’
She nodded.
‘And who’s the smaller man?’ (who in the second photograph was penetrating the blonde from behind).
‘Paul,’ whispered Carrie.
‘Paul Draper?’
She nodded again.
‘And the girl with the long hair?’
Another long pause.
‘Rose.’
‘What’s her surname?’
‘I can’ remember.’
‘What happened to her?’
‘I dunno.’
‘Who’s taking the pictures?’
Again, Carrie opened her mouth and closed it again.
‘Who’s taking the pictures?’ Strike repeated.
‘I dunno,’ she whispered again.
‘How can you not know?’
Carrie didn’t answer.
‘Was this a punishment?’ Strike asked.
Carrie’s head jerked again.
‘Is that a yes? Somebody forced you to do this?’
She nodded.
‘Carrie,’ said Robin, ‘was the person taking the pictures masked too?’
Carrie raised her head to stare at Robin. It looked as though the woman had vacated her body: Robin had never seen anybody who so resembled a somnambulist, every muscle in her face slack, her eyes blank.
Then, making both Carrie and Robin jump, a song began to play from inside the shopper at Carrie’s feet.
I like to party, mm-mm, everybody does
Make love and listen to the music
You’ve got to let yourself go-go, go-go, oh-oh…
Carrie bent down automatically, rummaged in the shopper, pulled out her mobile and answered it, cutting the song off.
‘Hi Nate,’ she whispered. ‘Yeah… no, I took them over to your mum’s… yeah… no, I’m fine. Can I call you back?… no, I’m fine. I’m fine. I’ll call you back.’
Having hung up, Carrie looked from Robin to Strike, then said, in a flat voice,
‘You need to go now. You need to go.’
‘All right,’ said Strike, who could tell there was no point trying to press her further. He pulled one of his business cards out of his wallet. ‘If there’s anything else you’d like to tell us, Mrs Woods—’
‘You need to go.’
‘If you wanted to tell us anything else about Daiyu’s death—’
‘You need to go,’ Carrie said, yet again.
‘I realise this is very difficult,’ said Strike, ‘but if you were made to do anything you now regret—’
‘GO!’ shouted Carrie Curtis Woods.
98
K’an means something deeply mysterious…
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Strike and Robin returned to the Land Rover in silence.
‘Want some lunch?’ said Strike, as he put on his seat belt.
‘Seriously, that’s your first—?’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘OK, but let’s not go back to the Malthouse. It’ll be crowded by now.’
‘You don’t want to discuss Mrs Woods’ dark past somewhere her neighbours might hear?’
‘No,’ said Robin, ‘not really. This is a small place.’
‘Felt sorry for her, did you?’
Robin glanced back at Carrie Curtis Woods’ house, then said,
‘I just don’t feel comfortable hanging around here. Shall we buy some food and eat in the car? We can pull over once we’re out of Thornbury.’
‘OK, as long as there’s plenty of food.’
‘Ah, yes,’ said Robin, switching on the engine, ‘I remember your theory that nothing eaten on a car journey contains calories.’
‘Exactly. Got to make the most of these opportunities.’
So they purchased food on the High Street, got back into the Land Rover and headed out of Thornbury. After five minutes, Strike said,
‘This’ll do. Pull in by that church.’
Robin turned up Greenhill Road and parked beside the graveyard.
‘You got pork pies?’ said Robin, looking into the bag.
‘Problem?’
‘Not at all. Just wishing I’d brought biscuits in the first place.’
Strike took a few satisfying bites of his first pie before saying,
‘So: Carrie.’
‘Well,’ said Robin, who was eating a cheese sandwich, ‘there’s something off, isn’t there? Very off.’
‘Where d’you want to start?’
‘The dormitory,’ said Robin. ‘She was very worried talking about all of that: Daiyu going out of the window, the fact that there should have been two adults in the room, the special drinks. Whereas when she got to the drowning—’
‘Yeah, that all came out very fluently. ’Course, she’s told that story multiple times; practice makes perfect…’
The pair sat in silence for a moment or two, before Strike said,
‘“The night before”.’
‘What?’
‘Kevin Pirbright wrote it on his bedroom wall: the night before.’
‘Oh… well, yes. Why did all this stuff happen, the night before?’
‘And you know what else needs explaining? Reaney oversleeping. There’s something very fishy there. How did Carrie know he wasn’t going to turn up?’
‘Maybe she gave him a special drink, too? Or special food?’
‘Very good point,’ said Strike, reaching for his notebook.
‘But where did she get stuff in enough quantities to drug all these people, when she never went shopping and didn’t have access to cash?’
‘Someone must’ve been going out shopping, unless the church farms its own bog rolls and washing powder,’ Strike pointed out. ‘Delivery services weren’t nearly as common in ninety-five.’
‘True, but – oh, hang on,’ said Robin, struck by a sudden idea. ‘She might not have needed to buy drugs. What if whatever she used was grown there?’
‘Herbs, you mean?’
‘Valerian’s a sleep aid, isn’t it?’
‘You’d need a bit of expertise if you’re messing around with plants.’
‘True,’ said Robin, remembering the blood in the bathroom, and Lin’s rash.
There was another brief silence, both of them thinking.
‘Carrie was defensive about Daiyu not getting out of the van at those two different grocers, as well,’ said Strike.
‘Daiyu might not have wanted to get out. There’s no reason she should have.’
‘What if Carrie gave Daiyu a “special drink” somewhere between waving goodbye to the early duty lot and carrying her down to the sea? Maybe Daiyu was too sleepy to get out of the van, even if she’d wanted to.’
‘So you think Carrie killed her?’
‘Don’t you?’
Robin ate more sandwich before answering.
‘I can’t see it,’ she said at last. ‘I can’t imagine her doing it.’
She waited for Strike’s agreement, but none came.
‘D’you honestly think the woman we just met could hold that child underwater until she was dead?’ Robin asked him. ‘Or drag her out into the deep, knowing she couldn’t swim?’
‘I think,’ said Strike, ‘the proportion of people who could be persuaded to commit terrible acts, given the right circumstances, is higher than most of us would like to think. You know the Milgram experiment?’
‘Yes,’ said Robin. ‘Participants were instructed to administer increasingly strong electric shocks to another person, every time that person answered a question wrongly. And sixty-five per cent continued turning up the dial until they were administering what they thought was a dangerously high level of electricity.’
‘Exactly,’ said Strike. ‘Sixty-five per cent.’
‘All the participants in that experiment were male.’
‘You don’t think women would have complied?’
‘Just pointing it out,’ said Robin.
‘Because if you don’t think young women are capable of committing atrocities, I’d refer you to Patricia Krenwinkel, Susan Atkins and – whatever the others were called.’
‘Who?’ said Robin, perplexed.