Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,80

as frustrating for us, believe me. Our priority is to locate Kyle and get Tommy back to you. That’s why it’s important for us to talk again. You do understand?”

Carrie Foster sat back down. For the next ten minutes she proceeded to list the same sequence of events that she had in her earlier interview.

In the observation room, Ingrid was willing Radcliffe to interject, probe Carrie Foster’s account of what happened little more rigorously. But he just sat there nodding silently.

“When you say you attempted to grab Molly back from Kyle, can you describe how you tried to do that? I’m having trouble picturing it,” the DCI finally said.

“I pulled at his arms. He was holding Molly close to him while he was shaking her. His grip on her was too tight.”

“Where was he holding her, exactly?”

Carrie Foster paused, closed her eyes, as if trying to remember the scene in detail. “He was squeezing her arms.”

“At the shoulders? The elbows?”

She lifted her hands in the air, her fingers curled, supposedly miming the actions of her husband. “Upper arms, between her elbows and shoulders.”

“That would certainly be consistent with the bruising there,” Radcliffe said.

Ingrid thought she saw a flash of panic cross Mrs Foster’s face at the mention of Molly’s bruises.

“How long was your husband shaking Molly?” Radcliffe asked.

Foster looked down at her hands. She shrugged. “I don’t know, a long time maybe. It felt like a long time.”

“And all the while you were grabbing at his arms, to try to get Molly back?”

She nodded slowly. “Every time I reached out for her he swung her away from me.”

“Still shaking her?”

“Yes! How many times do I have to tell you? He didn’t stop shaking her.”

The FLO rested a calming hand on Mrs Foster’s knee. She angrily batted it away.

“I’m sorry. I really don’t mean to upset you,” the DCI said. “But you must realize, if we’re to build a solid case against your husband, we do need to know even the smallest of details.”

“You’ve got to catch him first. Maybe you should be spending your time doing that.”

“Believe me, we are. We’ve devoted considerable manpower to the operation.”

“Oh sure.” Gurley said. “And look where it’s gotten you.”

The uniformed PC sitting next to Ingrid huffed a disapproving sigh.

“You got something to say, officer?”

The PC didn’t reply.

“Then keep your goddamn mouth shut.”

“Shhh,” Ingrid said, still watching the monitors intently.

“What happened next?” Radcliffe said. He had leaned both elbows on his knees, his hands grasped together in front of him.

Carrie Foster let out an unexpected high pitched sob. “Molly went quiet.”

“She’d been crying all this time?”

“That’s why he was shaking her. To make her stop.”

“And then what happened?”

“He shoved her back at me.”

The image on the far right-hand monitor showed Radcliffe’s forehead pucker into a severe frown. “I thought you said your husband threw Molly onto the bed.”

“What?”

“In your earlier statement.”

“He did.”

“But you just said—”

“He shoved her toward me, I wasn’t expecting him to do that, I wasn’t ready to take her, so she landed on the bed.”

“So he was more throwing Molly at you, rather than deliberately hurling her towards the bed?”

“I don’t know what he was doing. She leaned forward, her face inches away from the detective’s. “You’d have to ask him that.”

41

Without being asked, the family liaison officer got to her feet. Radcliffe glared at her. “Sir, I think it might be time for a break now.”

“I’ll decide when a break is called for.”

“But, sir, Carrie’s clearly distressed. Let me at least get her a glass of water.”

Carrie Foster started to cry.

“I can’t let this go on a minute longer.” Gurley got to his feet.

Ingrid grabbed his arm. “Let’s wait a few moments, can we? I think Radcliffe might be getting somewhere.”

“Sure, if harassing an innocent woman was his aim, he’s doing real well.”

Ingrid stood up too. “Just a little while longer. Please, Jack.”

They both turned their attention back toward the monitors to see the FLO hand Carrie Foster a bottle of water. Mrs Foster’s hands were trembling too much to unscrew the top, so the FLO opened the bottle for her.

“Jesus, look at what he’s done to her,” Gurley said, sitting down again.

“We are grateful for you answering our questions like this, Mrs Foster, I can’t express that strongly enough,” Radcliffe said gently.

“Are we nearly through?”

“Almost, just another couple of questions and we’ll be done.” Once again, Radcliffe glanced up at the camera, an admonishing look on his face, as if he were holding Ingrid personally responsible for Carrie Foster’s