Those We Left Behind by Stuart Neville Read Free Book Online Page B

recorded. No lawyers or social workers needed. Strictly speaking, the custody officer should bring you your breakfast. I just wanted to see if you were okay.’
    Ciaran sat quite still, his hands in his lap. He stared at the floor, as if to look at her might burn his eyes.
    ‘Are you okay?’ she asked.
    He reached for a piece of toast, took a bite. Flanagan kept her silence as he chewed, and when he took a sip of tea.
    ‘It needs more milk,’ he said. ‘I like it milky.’
    ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘I’ll remember for next time. ‘Did you get much sleep?’
    Ciaran shrugged and took another sip. After he swallowed, he asked, ‘Can I see Thomas today?’
    ‘No, not until the investigation’s complete.’
    Ciaran returned the mug to the tray, pushed it back towards her.
    ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.
    ‘Don’t want it,’ Ciaran said.
    ‘All right,’ she said. She lifted the tray and moved it to the floor, leaving nothing but air between them. She allowed a stretch of time to pass before she spoke again.
    ‘Why did you kill Mr Rolston?’ she asked.
    Ciaran’s lips tightened.
    ‘Like I said, this isn’t an interview. I’m not recording anything you say. I’m not taking notes. I just want to understand. Why did you want to hurt Mr Rolston?’
    Ciaran took a breath. Flanagan tried not to tense.
    ‘Mr Rolston did things to Thomas,’ he said.
    ‘What kind of things?’ she asked.
    ‘He came into our bedroom at night,’ Ciaran said. ‘After everyone was asleep. He held Thomas down. He put his hand over Thomas’s mouth so he wouldn’t make any noise.’
    He recited the words as if reading them from a page. As if he’d practised them.
    ‘Did you see this happen?’ Flanagan asked.
    ‘I heard it.’
    ‘How often?’
    ‘Every night, near the end. It didn’t happen when we first went to live there. It was a few months before it started.’
    ‘Did Mr Rolston ever touch you?’
    ‘No,’ Ciaran said. ‘Only Thomas.’
    ‘So you hurt Mr Rolston because of what he did to Thomas.’
    Ciaran nodded.
    ‘Will you say that on record? Later this morning, when the social worker’s here, and I interview you under caution, will you say all that?’
    Ciaran did not reply.
    ‘Have a think about it.’ She reached for Ciaran’s hand. ‘All right? Just think about it.’
    His skin soft on hers. Shocking and warm. She squeezed his fingers. The bones beneath the flesh. Seconds passed before she realised he was holding his breath.
    ‘The best thing you can do for you and your brother is tell the truth,’ she said. ‘Will you do that? It’ll be easier for everyone. For you and Thomas. And for the Rolstons.’
    Ciaran remained silent, breathing only when she released his hand. She got to her feet, the skin of her fingers cold where his had been, and looked at the watch on her wrist. ‘We’ll be starting in about half an hour. Think about what you want to say.’
    She closed the door behind her.
    Richie watched her as she passed. He nodded towards where the bank of CCTV screens was hidden on the other side of the desk.
    ‘That boy doesn’t need his hand holding,’ Richie said. ‘What he really needs is a good kicking.’
    Flanagan did not respond as she exited the custody suite.

9
    FLANAGAN ARRIVED LATE for the support group’s coffee night, but no one seemed to notice. A dozen or more women, most older than her, a few younger. All of them survivors.
    The café had closed for the day, but been reopened exclusively for the group. The owner had lost an elder sister to breast cancer two years previously, and this small gesture eased the grief once a month. Coffee and tea were free of charge, and whatever cakes and pastries hadn’t been sold that day were for the taking. And if they were sold out, the owner provided more, quietly, at no cost. Flanagan suspected that was the main reason some of the women still came.
    For most, though, it was the camaraderie of this circle of friends. And they
were
friends,