Someone You Know. Olivia Isaac-Henry

a fresh appeal for witnesses.’

      ‘After twenty years?’

      ‘You’d be amazed what people do remember. We can combine the appeal with a press conference and of course there’ll probably be a reconstruction.’

      ‘No chance,’ Dad says.

      ‘We’ve asked journalists to stay away from the house,’ Craven says. ‘But they’re only agreeing to a twenty-four hour period to let the family grieve. After that…’ He gives a slight shrug. ‘It would be easier if you just arranged to speak to them. We can discuss the appeal another time perhaps.’

      Dad glares at Craven.

      ‘We’ll also be looking at any similar cases,’ Craven says.

      ‘Similar cases? Are you talking about a serial killer?’ Ray says.

      My mind scurries away down dark tunnels. I look at Dad.

      ‘Please no,’ I say.

      ‘It’s just a possibility,’ Craven says quickly. ‘There’s no evidence of a sexual assault. She was fully clothed. Though, again, we can’t be certain.’

      Ray brings his hands to his face.

      ‘Do you think someone held her, before they…’ I can’t say the words.

      ‘We believe Edie was killed soon after she went missing. The original investigation surmised this when they found her bag in the canal. And there’s an additional indication of this being the case from the post-mortem.’

      Ray takes a sharp breath.

      ‘What indication?’ he asks.

      ‘The indentation to the skull contained tiny fragments of rust. It’s consistent with the composition of metal on the bridge crossing the canal. Unfortunately, the ironwork along the bridge wasn’t checked for blood at the time. Edie’s injury indicates she was attacked from behind and her head hit the metal struts.’

      Becca flinches. Dad doesn’t move and remains staring at his hand. Ray looks from one to the other then to me.

      ‘Tess,’ he says. ‘Oh God, Tess. How could this happen?’

      I can see it as a film running through my head, Edie bouncing along the path unconcerned, enjoying the June day, the shade by the canal, the dragonflies drifting through shards of light shooting between tree branches. Then it’s all gone. Just cold and endless darkness.

      ‘What happened to the photograph? Was it with her?’ I ask.

      ‘Which photograph?’ Craven asks.

      Ray glances at Dad. They never believed my theory and it turns out they were right.

      ‘Edie always carried a photograph with her, of us as a family. It was missing when they found her bag.’

      ‘I remember now. It was in the notes but…’ Craven looks embarrassed. ‘Detectives at the time weren’t sure of its existence.’

      ‘They thought I’d made it up?’ I say.

      ‘No, it’s just you couldn’t say when you’d last seen her with it.’

      ‘She always took it with her,’ I say.

      ‘It wasn’t with her, Tess,’ he says. ‘And who else would have wanted it, or have known it was there? The new evidence only confirms the conclusions of the original investigation. That she was killed along the canal. We haven’t advanced much beyond that right now. Hopefully, a fresh appeal will bring new witnesses forward.’

      *

      When Becca and Ray leave, I return to the bathroom and stare into the mirror. Do I look like Mum? I lean in close. My hair’s started to dry, half is stuck to my face and half is sticking out. My eyes are red, but there is a resemblance. Not the pretty heart-shaped face and high cheekbones of the Swift girls, which she shared with Edie, just a light sketch of her features on my long, oval Piper face. Is that what Ray meant? Or was he just seeing what he wanted to see? Because it should have been the tall, beautiful twin standing here, not me, the small, plain one.

      Passing Edie’s room on the way back to mine, I realise I’ve left the clothes, books and general junk in piles on the floor. Dad mustn’t find it like this. I start replacing the clothes on their hangers in the wardrobe and returning the books to the shelves. I pick up ‘The Case of the Missing Cakemaker’ scrapbook again. The cover’s torn where I threw other books on top of it; I try to tuck the hanging strip back inside the pages. As I do so, I see a piece of paper’s come loose. It must have been stuck under the cover. I pull it out. It’s a cutting from a newspaper dated from March 1994:

       Sentencing in Gina Piper Death

      Judge Lavinia Darlington sentenced Nathan Bexley to a two-year jail sentence, suspended for twelve months following his conviction for death by dangerous driving earlier in the week. Bexley was found to have blood alcohol levels two and a half times above the legal limit and was travelling at excessive speed when his HGV hit the thirty-year-old mother of two, whilst she was crossing the eastbound carriageway of the Hagley Road on 15 December last year.

      Judge Darlington added that Mr Bexley’s lack of remorse and attempts to shift the blame on to Mrs Piper had caused her family additional distress. However, in mitigation, she did note that Mrs Piper’s actions could be considered reckless and this was taken into account when handing down a suspended sentence.

      The article doesn’t tell me anything I don’t know. And I’m not sure why Edie took the trouble to hide it, until I see her bold, swirling handwriting in faded blue biro on the white border, a single word: Suicide.

       Chapter 10

       Edie: September 1993

      Caitlin and Deanne kept their distance after the first day. And when the letter was sent, Edie and Tess managed to keep it away from Mum.

      ‘It wasn’t Tess’s fault,’ Edie told Dad. ‘Caitlin Powell’s a big, fat bully.’

      He wasn’t quite the pushover they’d expected.

      ‘But fighting, it’s not like you, Tess, is it?’

      ‘I won’t do it again, Dad. Promise. You won’t tell Mum, will you?’

      ‘I think she needs to know, Tess. Have a chat with you.’

      ‘Please, Dad.’ Tess’s eyes brimmed with tears. ‘She’ll go nuts.’

      He sighed.

      ‘Alright then. But if it happens again …’

      Edie wrote out the return letter for Dad to copy.

      *

      She’d been so anxious about the letter and making sure she and Tess didn’t run into Caitlin and Deanne outside school that she didn’t notice straight away that Valentina was gone. It wasn’t like they went round every day, just most days, and sometimes Valentina would go shopping or visit her sister. But she was always home in time to make Mr Vickers’ dinner. Now, Edie saw him park his car, slam the door with more force than usual and stride up the path. Valentina was nowhere to be seen. After a week, Edie and Tess started to miss her. Without Valentina, the only things to look forward to at home time were a smoke-filled house, Dad’s boring sports and gardening programmes, and nothing but toast to eat until Mum got back. Sometimes Edie would go and listen to her records. ‘The Snake’ was still her favourite. But it was ruined by Tess complaining and wanting to listen to pop music on her CD player. Coming home was rubbish if they didn’t go and see Valentina first. They couldn’t ask Mum where she was. For some reason she didn’t like them spending so much time at the Vickers’.

      ‘You could ask Mr Vickers,’ Tess said.