Devil in the Detail by A.J. Cross (love letters to the dead .TXT) 📗

He had done so, loneliness replacing the ache for her. He had mentioned all of it to Ellis. It had elicited a slow headshake and the psychiatrist’s low opinion of avoidance as a solution. For Traynor, it was working. He felt like a different person, compared to four months ago when he’d last worked with Watts’ team. He was a different person.

His eyes fixed on the damp road ahead. He thought about his planned work with Molly Lawrence and felt a sudden surge of sympathy for this woman he hadn’t yet met. He took a deep breath then slowly released it. She had to be approached with considerable care …

His phone rang. It was Watts. Hospital staff had just confirmed that ‘they anticipate Molly Lawrence being physically well enough to talk to Dr Traynor today, from two o’clock onwards.’ Traynor thought through his university commitments for that afternoon, now requiring quick reorganization.

‘I’ll be there.’

THIRTEEN

Tuesday 11 December. 2.10 p.m.

Traynor followed the nurse into the hospital’s family room. It was empty but for a woman standing at the window, staring out at a bleak vista of bare trees, shopping centre and teeming roads. She turned to him. He thought she looked unwell. The nurse spoke.

‘Grace? This is Dr Traynor, the criminologist. He’s here to talk to Molly.’

The woman approached him as the nurse left, held out her hand. ‘Grace Monroe, Molly’s mother. I told staff I wanted to talk to you before you saw her.’

‘I understand. I’d like to add my condolences to those of my colleagues at headquarters.’

She turned from him, went and sat down. He sat opposite. This pleasant-looking woman had a lot on her mind.

‘You’re working with the police and you want Molly to tell you what happened to her and Mike. In my opinion, she’s not ready.’ She looked away, clearly agitated. ‘What’s happened to my daughter and her husband is unbelievably shocking and awful. No doubt you’re good at what you do, but right now no amount of talking is going to help her.’

‘My purpose in being here is not therapeutic, Mrs Monroe. Detective Inspector Watts, the senior investigative officer, and his whole team are very anxious to find the individual responsible for what has happened to your daughter and her husband. To do that, they need information only she has.’

‘And you think you can get it from her?’

‘I’ll support Molly in whatever way I can to talk about it.’

She gave him a direct look. ‘I’m fearful of her being put under pressure. I’ve looked you up online, Dr Traynor.’

He nodded, anticipating what was coming.

‘I know you’re very experienced, very good at what you do. I also know about your family’s personal experience – your name is a little unusual. I feel I should apologize for that intrusion into your life, but this is my daughter we’re talking about. I want to protect her. I want the best for her.’

‘I understand.’

She looked away from him. ‘Molly and I aren’t strangers to shock and grief. I had another daughter, two years older than Molly. She died when Molly was twelve. My husband died four years later. He was very ill.’ She looked down at her hands. ‘I’m only telling you this so you know that Molly knows loss. What she has no experience of is something so … so indescribably violent as this.’

‘I appreciate the information you’ve just given me.’ He recognized the truth in what she had said. ‘Unexpected or untimely death is a universal experience which can be understood over time. Violent death is different. It makes us question everything we believe. Everything we take for granted.’

‘Exactly. We got through those experiences together. It wasn’t easy, but we gradually adjusted. Molly’s got a good job. She’s highly valued by her employers. She was so thrilled that her pregnancy was going well but, so far, she hasn’t even talked to me about what happened, and believe me, I’ve tried to get her to do that.’

‘Perhaps now isn’t the time for Molly to talk to you? She might find it easier to do so with someone she doesn’t know, has no connection with.’

‘Surely, she should be saying something?’ She leaned towards him. ‘When I try to encourage her to talk, she turns her face away. Not a word about what’s happened. About Mike. About the baby …’

He waited as she tried to regain her control. ‘I’m really worried about her, Dr Traynor. When I’m with her, I don’t refer to the baby, but the way I see it, by not doing so I’m actually helping her to store up even more problems for herself.’ Traynor waited as she searched for words. ‘It’s as though she’s thinking that if she doesn’t talk about it, it hasn’t happened. She cried when she lost her sister and then her father, of course she did, but I’ve seen very few tears since this happened. It’s like …’ She paused. ‘It’s like she’s a million miles away from me and I can’t reach her.’

‘From what you’ve told me, Mrs Monroe, I think you know a lot about the grieving process. That it isn’t straightforward.’

She got to her feet. ‘I’m just hoping that you’ve not had a wasted journey. I’ll tell her you’re here.’

He watched her go, looked down at a low table nearby, leant and straightened the magazines there. She was back.

‘Shall I introduce you to Molly?’

‘Yes. It might help her to relax.’

She looked at him. ‘You’re a kind, patient man, Dr Traynor.’

He followed her out of the room, across the open area to a door. She pushed it open and went inside, Traynor some distance behind her.

‘Molly?’ There was no response from the slight figure in the bed. ‘Dr Traynor is here. He’s hoping that you’ll talk to him.’

She went closer, reached down, gently moved aside the curtain of dark hair half-covering her daughter’s face.

‘Don’t!’

‘Come on, Molly,’ she said softly. ‘I’ll help you sit up.’

Not looking at him, Molly Lawrence raised herself, then winced as her mother fussed with pillows. She