Chapter Four

‘Please state your name for the tape,’ Imogen said. She had barely got into work when she was informed about the young girl waiting to be processed and questioned.

‘Caitlin Watts,’ the girl said, not looking at Imogen but clearly sizing Adrian up.

‘And how old are you?’

‘I just turned nineteen.’

‘You were spotted breaking into the old chapel on Smalling Street, is that correct?’ Adrian said.

‘Yes, I’m sorry.’ She tilted her head down, keeping her eyes on him.

‘Was there a reason for that?’ Imogen asked.

‘Not a good one. I just wanted to see if I could,’ Caitlin said, still staring at Adrian.

Imogen noted that there was no nervous disposition with this girl at all; she seemed almost defiant, even a little defensive. What was her game?

‘We’re trying to get hold of the reverend in charge, who will tell us if anything is damaged or stolen.’

‘He’s away at the moment, gone to some pilgrim site in Kent.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I live with him,’ Caitlin said with a hint of a smile. ‘He’s my grandad.’

Imogen tried to gauge whether this was a lie or not; there was something very hard to read about Caitlin, a dishonesty about her. She looked over to Adrian, who shook off his surprise at this revelation very quickly and recomposed himself. Imogen could tell the girl was fixated on getting a reaction out of Adrian; her strange flirtation seemed to be working on him, he was visibly flustered by her.

‘Do you have any way of contacting him?’ Adrian said.

‘Not for a couple of days. He will be back before the weekend, though. He’ll tell you that nothing is missing or damaged; I’m not like that.’

‘If that were true you wouldn’t even be here at all,’ Imogen said.

‘We’ll check out your story – where will you be if we need to contact you?’ Adrian said.

‘I’ll be at my grandfather’s house, or at class. One of the two.’

‘What are you studying?’ Adrian said.

‘Psychology at the university. I want to be a shrink, get inside people’s heads and stuff.’ She smiled at Adrian.

‘You’re not staying in halls?’ Imogen said.

‘Not really any point, seeing as I live in the town. It saves money, which my grandad doesn’t have that much of.’ She answered Imogen coldly, seemingly annoyed that she was there at all, as though this would be a lot easier if Adrian were the only person in the room. She was an interesting girl – there was a definite vulnerability about her, something she was trying desperately to hide. Imogen could identify.

‘Are your parents not in the picture?’ Imogen asked.

‘No, apparently being parents was boring and not nearly noble enough, so they skipped off into the sunset together. I think they live in South America somewhere. They’re missionaries or something.’

That explained her strange behaviour – abandonment issues.

‘You don’t have any contact with them?’ Imogen pressed.