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Back False Witness Save as PDF
Chapters (100)
  1. Cover
  2. Title page
  3. Dedication page
  4. 1
  5. 2
  6. 3
  7. 4
  8. 5
  9. 6
  10. 7
  11. 8
  12. 9
  13. 10
  14. 11
  15. 12
  16. 13
  17. 14
  18. 15
  19. 16
  20. 17
  21. 18
  22. 19
  23. 20
  24. 21
  25. 22
  26. 23
  27. 24
  28. 25
  29. 26
  30. 27
  31. 28
  32. 29
  33. 30
  34. 31
  35. 32
  36. 33
  37. 34
  38. 35
  39. 36
  40. 37
  41. 38
  42. 39
  43. 40
  44. 41
  45. 42
  46. 43
  47. 44
  48. 45
  49. 46
  50. 47
  51. 48
  52. 49
  53. 50
  54. 51
  55. 52
  56. 53
  57. 54
  58. 55
  59. 56
  60. 57
  61. 58
  62. 59
  63. 60
  64. 61
  65. 62
  66. 63
  67. 64
  68. 65
  69. 66
  70. 67
  71. 68
  72. 69
  73. 70
  74. 71
  75. 72
  76. 73
  77. 74
  78. 75
  79. 76
  80. 77
  81. 78
  82. 79
  83. 80
  84. 81
  85. 82
  86. 83
  87. 84
  88. 85
  89. 86
  90. 87
  91. 88
  92. 89
  93. 90
  94. 91
  95. 92
  96. Acknowledgements
  97. DEAD GUILTY
  98. 1
  99. FALSE WITNESS
  100. Also by Michelle Davies

‘I wish I could tell you differently,’ said Maggie. ‘I really do.’

She finished making them tea, then carried two full mugs back into the lounge. Imogen was reading texts on her phone.

‘It’s work, wondering where I am. I should let them know what’s happened.’

‘What do you do?’

‘I’m a receptionist at the GP practice in Medley Lane.’

‘I’ll call them, save you having to deal with it,’ said Maggie.

She went back into the kitchen to make the call, giving scant details to the inquisitive receptionist who answered. Maggie asked for the practice manager to call her back when they were next free.

Returning, she found Imogen shivering violently.

‘I feel really cold,’ she lamented.

Maggie felt the opposite. It was only mid-morning but it was already stiflingly hot and all of the windows downstairs were shut.

‘It’s probably the shock,’ she said. ‘Here, put this around you.’

She took a beige throw that was folded over the back of the easy chair and gently wrapped it around Imogen’s shoulders.

‘Is there anything else I can get you?’ she asked.

Imogen looked up at her, eyes brimming once more with tears.

‘I need to see him. I can’t bear that he’s on his own. He must be so scared.’

The woman’s anguish was so raw that Maggie felt her own composure begin to flail. She nodded briskly to settle it.

‘I understand. I’ll find out when it can be arranged.’

She went off to make the call and when she came back Imogen had stopped shivering and was sipping her tea.

‘Do you feel up to answering a few more questions?’ Maggie asked. ‘Only, one of my jobs as your liaison is to put together some notes to give to my colleagues so they can work out Benji’s movements this morning. We call it a victimology, which I know might sound a bit scary, but it’s really a list of his daily routine and habits, his likes and dislikes, the people he came into contact with, the places he regularly went to. Obviously it was unusual for him to be at school so early, so it might help us work out what made him deviate from his usual movements.’

While she spoke Maggie watched, hawk-like, for Imogen’s reaction. The last thing she wanted was for her to think that gathering the victimology was an interrogation. Maggie saw it more like a conversation, going back and forth, teasing the details out.

‘You think it will help?’ asked Imogen, reaching across and setting her mug down on the hearth, the hardest surface nearest to her.

‘I do.’

‘Okay.’ Imogen pulled the wrap tighter around her. ‘Ask me.’