‘The brat’s bitch mother is going to notice me now! I’ll be the centre of her world, the thorn in her flesh, her worst nightmare as I tear her life to shreds. Did you hear me, Mother? Megan Weller’s going to suffer for ignoring me. The bitch, the total fucking bitch! She’ll beg for my forgiveness before I finish with her. I’ll be the demonic puppet master pulling her strings. She has no idea of the torment to come.’

15

‘You let me take the lead and only speak when I indicate the time’s right,’ said Kesey to the Wellers. ‘If you’re asked any direct questions, take your time and think carefully before you answer. And don’t be afraid to show your emotions. The public will understand and sympathise. They’ll want to help. In my experience, they always do.’

Dale and Megan Weller nodded in unison, as Kesey shuffled her notes to little effect, more a means of stress control than anything else. ‘Do either of you have any final questions before we go in?’

Megan wiped a tear from her cheek and said, ‘I think we’re as ready as we’ll ever be.’ Her voice quivered, as anxiety threatened to overwhelm her.

Kesey rose to her feet, brushing a speck of white fluff from her black skirt. ‘Right, come on, let’s get this done. These things are never easy, but they are important. The media have a wide reach. When potential witnesses ring in – and they will – I’ll have officers ready to take their calls. Not everything we’re told is useful, but hopefully the publicity will give us the break we need.’

Dale took Megan’s hand in his. He was both surprised and relieved when she didn’t pull away. It seemed their mutual grief had united rather than further divided them, as he feared it might. Megan went to hug him, but she recoiled when his spirit-soaked breath filled her nostrils. She pushed him away, hissing her words, her face contorted as much from disappointment as rage. ‘You have got to be kidding me. Now, of all times. What the hell were you thinking?’

Dale shuffled from one foot to the other, unable to settle as the two women looked on accusingly. ‘I only had the one glass of whiskey. Honestly, it was just the one small tot to steady my nerves. I’m not used to this media stuff. Being in the spotlight, questions, accusations, dirty looks from people in the fucking street. It’s the first drink I’ve had since all this happened. I’m not pissed. It was just the one, like I said. What’s the fucking problem?’

Megan’s face reddened. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to yell in his face and keep yelling until he understood how badly she felt he’d failed her. But that would be futile, worse than useless. Now wasn’t the time. Not there in a public space, not with the journalists just a few feet away on the other side of a closed door. She spoke quietly rather than shout, fearing the press may overhear. ‘Do you know, I was starting to trust you again. I really believed you’d stopped drinking this time.’