His Silence - Chapter Six

I text Callum as we’re leaving, letting him know we’re on the way to the prison. I shove my phone in my pocket, breathing steadily. We’re not going to be too far from where Emma works. It’s crazy we’re going to be a ten minute drive from her, tops, and she has no idea what we’re doing.

‘Are you sure you want to do this, you know there’s no pressure, you can always change your mind?’ Michael says, the car thrumming around us.

I shake my head. ‘No, I need to. I need to know what he has to say.’ Even if he tells me beyond reason of a doubt he killed Mum and Dad, at least I’ll know where I stand then. It’s the not knowing that kills me.

Michael manoeuvres the car off the driveway and onto the road. There aren’t any houses opposite us. From my bedroom window, above the front door, all I see are fields, and trees stretching on forever. There’s a couple of houses further up the road, but we’re quite isolated. It’s something I’ve always liked about living here; I would’ve hated living in a city. There’s something about the noise, and concrete jungle setting I don’t find natural.

What will Harvey look like now? He was so skinny twenty years ago. His floppy hair was always untidy. Mum spent ages trying to comb through it, but no matter how hard she tried it would never stay flat. I close my eyes, sleep calling me. What made him do it, what made him kill them? As the world around me darkens, I see myself as a six-year-old standing in a doorway. Mum’s in the small room in front of me, stuffing things into a small bag. She turns to me, raising a finger to her lips, telling me to be quiet. Her words echo to me from the past, “If you tell anyone where we came from, bad things will happen.” My body shudders. I never told a soul, and yet everything still went wrong.

My eyes flutter open. I could only have been asleep for half an hour tops. It was so real seeing Mum. I could smell her perfume, the scent of jasmine she always wore. I rub my eyes as tears threaten. I’ve had this particular dream before, I’ve never been sure if the memory is real, or if it’s something I’ve made up. I’ve always kept it to myself. I haven’t even spoken about it to Callum.

‘Looks like we’re here,’ Michael says.

The soulless, red brick building stretches out ahead of me, no thought or consideration appears to have gone into its appearance. Barbed wire curls along the walls, prickling the grey sky, making me think of Mum’s curly hair. I swallow. Harvey is inside there now. I clutch my seatbelt. I’m not like him, I can’t be like him. I’ve driven past this place so many times before now, often picturing myself going inside, demanding a meeting with him.

‘Are you OK?’ Michael asks parking up.

‘Yep, fine,’ I say, doing my best to keep my voice bright.

‘I’ll wait just here for you, remember, Danielle, you can’t trust anything he says.’

I climb out of the car, flinging the door shut and march towards the prison, a breeze whipping through my hair. The distant sound of the roar of traffic reaches my ears.

Keep yourself together.

As I enter the building I immediately want something to fan myself. Some of the guards have sweat patches under their arms; a fan on full blast is sitting on someone’s desk. I will for it to turn round and face me, it must be unbearable working here.

I hand my phone over to be scanned through the machine, and pass through the bleepers, as I’ve always called them. They’re exactly like the ones at security in an airport. The guards look me up and down, I rub my arms. I’ve always felt self-conscious going through airport security, like I might be guilty of something, even though I’m not. Do they know who I am? Do they know who I’m here to see? I keep my head down, not wanting to meet them in the eye.

I enter a wide room with sets of tables and chairs spread out, the chairs are secured to the floor. The back of my neck prickles. God it’s stuffy in here. This is the moment I’ve waited years for. It doesn’t feel real. Guards patrol the perimeter of the room; I keep my focus on the floor as I move closer to a table and sit down. My knees are jittering. I pull at my collar. Why isn’t there a window open in here? Now I want to get out, I want to go.

There’s a buzzing sound. People begin to stroll through from the other end of the room. Which one is my brother? I squeeze my hands together. The only photo I’ve seen of him was from when he was fourteen. I can’t believe he’s in his thirties now. We’ve missed out on so much together, birthdays, Christmases, all because of what he did. I flick my gaze across to the side of the room and fix my eyes on a brown haired woman with multi gold hoop earrings, sitting on her own to my right, with a pram by her side. She’s wearing a hell of a lot of make-up. I don’t think I would’ve gone for the gold eye shadow though, if I was her. Emma used to go mad at me if I stepped out of the house wearing even a shade of glitter on my face. Every so often the woman’s brown eyes meet mine then she looks away again. She’s rocking the pram gently back and forth. I picture the baby inside sound asleep. Is the baby’s father in here? Is that who the woman’s come to see? She smiles at someone and a burly looking man with short, blond hair shuffles over to them, before plonking himself in the seat opposite.

Everyone else moves towards their allocated table, to whoever it is whose come to see them. I let out a shallow breath and spot someone standing a few feet away. His dark eyes clock with mine, my heart lurches. It’s him. It’s Harvey. God, he’s got the exact same eyes as our dad. He shuffles across the room towards me, arms tight against his body, not looking at me.  

My heart gets louder and louder in my chest as he pulls the chair out from under the table and sits. Stars dance in front of my eyes. No don’t have a panic attack. I will not have a panic attack. He’s so close to me, the smell of his sweat hits me in the face. It’s running down his cheeks. Our eyes meet.

‘Oh God, Danielle . . . it’s . . . it’s so good to see you,’ he says and his lips break into a wide smile.