Liar Liar

92

Jacqueline Harris stared through the glass window at her son and felt a sharp stab of guilt. Ethan had never been an easy child and she had spent less time with him than she should have – hiring help to allow Michael and her to pursue their professional lives unchecked. But now, when she really wanted to be with her son, to reassure him that everything was going to be fine, she couldn’t.

The doctors had asked her to leave the room while they carried out further tests. Why hadn’t she spent more time with him? Why had she been so preoccupied by work? If she had lost him, she would never have forgiven herself. Things would be different now, she vowed.

In some ways, they had been extremely lucky. Ethan’s room was at the top of the house and though he had sustained scrapes and minor burns while being dragged from the blaze, they were superficial and would heal in time. He had of course inhaled a significant amount of smoke and that was what doctors were really concerned about, given that he already suffered from a mild form of brain damage, present since birth. Could this boy, who’d already been dealt a fairly tough hand, suffer yet more indignities? For all his physical problems, he was still bright and articulate – please, God, don’t let that be taken away from him too, Jacqueline prayed.

Jacqueline heard steps behind her and turned to see a young woman in a smart suit approaching, a police warrant card held out for inspection.

‘Mr and Mrs Harris? I’m DS Sanderson.’

‘Jacqueline. And this is my husband, Michael.’

They shook hands.

‘How’s he doing?’

‘Good, I think. He’s awake, and alert, and seems to be passing all the tests fine. We want to get him discharged as soon as we can, but obviously that’s in the hands of the doctors.’

‘That’s great news.’

Jacqueline nodded, suddenly ambushed by emotion. Had things turned out differently, she would have been at the police mortuary today.

‘We’ll need to ask Ethan a few questions.’

‘Of course.’

‘You’re welcome to be present and if it gets too much for him at any point, we’ll call a halt. But he could be a vital witness to last night’s events, so…’

‘That’s fine,’ Michael Harris chipped in. ‘We understand. Can I ask about Agnieszka Jarosik? I’d like to be able to tell Ethan what her condition is.’

Jacqueline Harris watched DS Sanderson closely. She saw a cloud pass across her face and knew immediately what the officer was about to say.

‘I’m very sorry, but she died of her injuries last night. The fire was too fierce in the basement for the emergency services to get to her.’

Jacqueline turned to Michael. He looked as sick as she felt, but reached out his hand to take hers.

‘Will you need us to identify her? She’s from Poland and doesn’t have any family over here,’ Michael said, trying to sound as business-like as possible.

‘Thank you, but that won’t be necessary. We have other ways in which we can identify her without putting you through that.’

Jacqueline shut her eyes. That could only mean one thing – that Agnieszka had been so badly burnt that a visual identification was impossible. An image of her charred corpse now shot into Jacqueline’s mind, turning her stomach. None of this felt real but it was happening nevertheless. As Jacqueline stood there, dutifully answering the officer’s polite questions, she had the feeling that the axis of their world was shifting. Their home had been destroyed, their son injured, their nanny murdered. They had now become the news story – the collateral damage of someone else’s insanity.