Chapter 32

A dejected Terry Braithwaite walked into the open-plan CID office. He was dragging his feet, and he had the hang-dog expression of a Basset Hound. While everyone sympathised with Harry and Barbara White for having lost their daughter in such a cruel and tragic way, and people had rallied around his father when he had found the body, and for his subsequent breakdown and, more recently, his stroke, nobody had ever asked Terry how he was coping. In the past twenty years, not one person had asked how the murder of his best friend at the age of thirteen had affected him.

After the murder, he had adopted the same strategies his father had used. He bottled up his emotions. He kept quiet and retreated into the background. Upon his return to school after the funeral, he had been subjected to lingering glances from fellow pupils. It was obvious they wanted to ask the gory details, but they were too afraid to. Teachers treated him like he was made of glass, and his friends distanced themselves from the new quieter, unsmiling, timid Terry Braithwaite.

And that's how he'd been ever since. College, university, police training. He'd kept his head down. He didn't make waves, he didn't stand out and he performed his duties to the best of his ability. He got results, but he didn't get the recognition and the glory, because he didn't want them.

Terry leaned over Kyra's shoulder and asked her to pop into his office.

‘The Super was looking for you,' she said, as she closed the door and sat down. ‘I told him you were informing the Whites of the murder before it leaked out to the press.' Terry looked at her with wide-eyed surprise. ‘I'm psychic.' She smiled.

‘You wish.'

‘I do actually. I'd love to know what you're thinking right now,' she said, crossing her legs and staring at him.

‘You really don't,' he scoffed.

‘How did they take it?'

‘The Whites? As you'd expect. They won't be shedding any tears.'

‘Understandable. Neither will his neighbours.'

‘You've spoken to them all?' He pulled out his chair and sat down.

‘It didn't take long. Talk about trying to get blood out of a stone. Not one of them heard or saw anything.'

‘Really?'

‘Considering the violence of the attack and the level of destruction in the living room, it would be unlikely nobody heard any signs of a disturbance – furniture breaking, cries of pain, et cetera – but they all claim to have had the TV turned up loud or been asleep.'

‘That's bollocks.'

‘That's exactly what I said. Well, I didn't, but you know what I mean.'

Terry released a heavy sigh. He chewed on his bottom lip, his sign that he was deep in thought. ‘Have forensics finished?'

‘Yes. There are several different sets of fingerprints. Obviously Dominic's, and we're guessing his daughter's, but there are others. Let's hope they're on our system and there's a match.'

‘We could do with another chat with the daughter. She'll have known him better than anyone. She'll know who his friends were, if he had any. Also, try and get hold of Dominic's solicitor; find out how much his compensation was and when he received it. I remember reading about it in the papers last year. There was talk of a seven-figure sum, but he was living in a semi in a crappy area. What happened to the money?'

‘Will do,' she said, making a note. ‘Before I forget, a jacket was found in the house that doesn't belong to Dominic.'

‘How do you know?'

‘It's a size small, and Dominic would have been a large, judging by his build.'

‘Could it belong to his daughter?'

‘There's no way she's a small. Besides, it's a man's jacket.'

‘A friend could have left it.'

‘Could have.'

‘You don't think so?'

‘It's the middle of winter. It's bloody freezing. Would you go round to a friend's house and go home without your coat on?'

‘True. Okay, get it off to forensics, see if they can find a hair on it or something.'

‘Speaking of hairs, they also found a single, long, black hair on the floor by Dominic's body.'

‘And Dawn has brown hair.'

‘Exactly.'

‘Okay. Well, at least we've got something to go on.'

‘We've had the press on the phone.'

‘I'm shocked.' He grinned.

‘What do you want me to say?'

‘Nothing. We'll issue a press release later today, just giving the basic facts. Apart from that, we say nothing.'

‘This is going to be a big deal.'

‘I'm aware,' he said, running his fingers through his hair. ‘But I don't want this turning into a circus. I don't want the press raking everything up from twenty years ago again.'

‘You know they're going to,' Kyra said, trying to sound sympathetic.

‘I know. It's what they're good at. I just don't want them upsetting Harry and Barbara.'

Kyra studied her boss for a while. ‘You're very fond of them, aren't you?'

‘They were like parents to me when I was growing up. They still are in a way.'

Terry had a wistful look in his eye, and his mind seemed to drift as he stared into space.

‘Right then,' Kyra said, standing up. ‘I'll go and find this solicitor.'

She stood in the doorway and turned back to look at the sad expression painted on her boss's face. She couldn't help but feel this case was going to have an adverse effect on him. The Superintendent should never have laid it on his shoulders. He wasn't strong enough.