Hit and Run by Maria Frankland (best book recommendations txt) 📗

A long beep sounds and DI Green clears her throat. “My name is Detective Inspector Diane Green of West Yorkshire Police, and my colleague,” she nods towards PC Robinson.

“Police Constable John Robinson.”

“Will take notes for the transcript in this interview, which is taking place with…” she looks at me.

“Fiona Matherson.”

“Thank you Fiona. If you could just state your full address and date of birth, please?

“7 Orchard Mews, Otley, Leeds. My date of birth is 4th April 1985.”

“Thank you. As you know Fiona, we’ve asked you to come in to answer a few more questions in relation to the death of your husband, Robert Matherson. It occurred yesterday at approximately ten thirty am, on the Denton Road between Otley and Ilkley.”

“Yes.”

“This interview is being recorded and you are here to help us with our enquiries. You are not under arrest at this stage and are free to leave at any time.”

“OK.” At this stage. What does that mean? I wince as a trickle of sweat rolls from my armpit and down the side of my body. I can’t remember if I put any deodorant on this morning. I certainly didn’t brush my hair.

“Some of what I might ask will have been covered to some extent yesterday, but there will also be some new questions around the inquiry so far.”

Just get on with it, I want to say. This tiny box of a room is one of the most oppressive situations I have ever found myself in. I try to slow my breathing. The prospect of a panic attack is threatening to overwhelm me. I need to get back to Jack. I know he’s with Dad, but with what he’s going through; I need to be there more than I need to be here.

“Right. We’ll get started. First, just as you did yesterday, can you walk us through your morning before Robert, your husband, left the house?”

I wipe my palms on my jeans and try again to steady my breathing. Bryony wouldn’t find herself in this physical or mental state with her yoga and her bloody meditation. “Like I’ve already told you, we got up as normal, had breakfast and a coffee, whilst our son was getting ready for school. Rob left at just after nine o’clock to go on a bike ride. He enjoyed getting either out on his bike or onto the golf course. There was nothing out of the ordinary, apart from he’d booked the morning off work.”

“So he was a fit and active man then?”

“Yes.” It sounds strange using the word was. Rob being talked about in the past tense. I don’t think I will ever get used to it.

“Was everything alright between the two of you, before he left the house?”

“Between Rob and me? Yes, I guess so. My mother had stayed the previous night, which always causes an atmosphere but other than that…”

“Why does your mother staying cause an atmosphere?”

God. I can’t believe they’ve jumped on that. “I don’t know. Just mother-in-law stuff, you know. It’s always been fractious.”

“Right.” DI Green taps her pen on the side of her forehead as though deep in thought. She’s acting differently towards me than yesterday. More brisk. Not as sympathetic. “We might come back to that. Are you absolutely sure Robert left the house just after nine? Not any later?”

It’s strange hearing Rob being called Robert. I had heard his father call him it, but his mother had died from cancer before we got together. If there is a heaven, I wonder if they’re all together again. Perhaps my grandma is with them too. It’s the same whimsical thinking Jack might have. “Yes. Definitely. He left just after my mum set off. She was taking my son to school.”

“And how old is your son again?”

“Seven. This has all hit him very hard.”

I see a note of sympathy in her face now. “I bet it has. You, on the other hand, seem to be coping really well.”

“Do I?” What does she mean by that? “I’m just taking it one step at a time. I could do without being here though, to be honest.” I take a sip of the lukewarm tea. It’s disgusting. I’m pig sick of tea. “Could we speed things up? I need to get back to my son. He’s been sent home from school and my Dad is looking after him until I get back.”

“Fair enough. We’ll be as quick as we can.” She looks down at her notes. “The accident occurred some seven miles away from your home in Otley. How long do you imagine it would have taken your husband to cover that distance?”

“Not long. Twenty minutes maybe?”

“Have you any idea, where he might have got to between leaving home at nine, and getting to Denton Road at ten thirty? Clearly, around an hour and ten minutes is unaccounted for. Did he mention about going anywhere else first?”

“No. All I knew is that he was going for a bike ride.” Bryony, yet again, pops into my head. If she had nothing to hide, she would have spoken to me or replied to the message I sent. I’m going to have to say something to DI Green, but to verbalise the words out loud admits something that I don’t want to acknowledge. That they were carrying on with each other.

“You look unsure.” DI Green tilts her head to one side like a dog waiting for a treat.

“It’s just that…” I might as well say it. “He had a few missed calls from his ex yesterday. I’ve tried ringing and messaging her, but she’s ignoring me.”

“Do you mean Bryony?” PC Robinson speaks now.

DI Green gives him a look I can’t read. Maybe he should not have asked that.

“Yes. Have you been in touch with her?”

“We have,” DI Green replies. “We saw the missed calls in his phone log. But she claims not to have seen him yesterday morning. Obviously, our enquiries are ongoing – we’re still waiting on CCTV