shifted in his chair next to Ingrid. “What did I tell you?” He shook his head wearily. “The man’s grandstanding.” Sweat had started to prickle along his hairline.
“You did arrive rather late, Ms Welland. Perhaps you’d like a few moments now to go through it? We can leave you to discuss it with your client if you’d like?”
“It’s OK,” Carrie Foster said. “I just want to get this over with. Whatever they have won’t change anything. I know what happened.”
The lawyer took the slim file from Radcliffe and opened it. It seemed to have only one or two sheets of paper inside. Carrie Foster hadn’t taken her eyes off Radcliffe’s face.
“I can’t imagine what you think you’re going to prove, but would you please hurry. I want to get back to the hospital. If anyone’s causing cruelty to a minor it’s you. Molly shouldn’t be in that place without me.”
“There are a few… issues we’re hoping you’ll be able to clear up for us.”
47
Ingrid noticed a flicker of emotion in the lawyer’s previously mask-like expression as the woman continued to read the notes within the file. Was it surprise, disgust or resignation? Carrie Foster didn’t seem to have noticed—she was too busy staring out Radcliffe.
“As I’m sure you know,” Radcliffe began, “a number of forensic samples were taken from your hotel room by our crime scene examiners. We have just received an analysis of the DNA tested from the various samples taken from the bathroom. Of particular interest are those recovered from the drain beneath the sink.”
Although the monitor Ingrid was staring at showed a close-up of Carrie Foster’s face, she didn’t react at the mention of the sink. Still the woman refused to look away from Radcliffe’s face. But her neck and shoulders definitely seemed to be holding on to a lot of tension.
“It took a while to separate out the various samples. The most interesting results relate to the fine filaments of hair we found.”
More tensing of Carrie Foster’s neck. She swallowed, visibly but silently.
“You see, the hair samples are definitely yours, Mrs Foster, as we might have expected. But the traces of blood we found clinging to some of those hairs are Tommy’s. Tommy’s blood on your hair—odd isn’t it? How do you explain that?”
There was a knock at the door of the interview room. A female detective Ingrid remembered seeing in the incident room appeared just within shot. She was carrying a clear plastic bag. An evidence bag.
“Ah, perfect timing, Alex.” Radcliffe took the bag from her and laid it gently on the table. He waited for the detective to close the door behind her before continuing. “We retrieved this from your handbag earlier today.”
Inside the evidence bag was a hairbrush. Just a regular hairbrush as far as Ingrid could make out, white plastic bristles, short blue handle. There were long, light brown hairs tangled in a clump at the base of the bristles. She wondered what it had to do with the evidence the police had found in the hotel bathroom.
“I’m surprised you didn’t try to get rid of it,” Radcliffe said. “I mean, given we didn’t find evidence of Tommy’s blood on any of the objects we retrieved from the room, and as his blood was attached to your hair, it wasn’t much of a leap to suspect your hairbrush might have been the weapon used to cause your son’s facial injuries.”
Carrie Foster set her lips in a hard line.
“Obviously we haven’t yet had a chance to analyze the brush for traces of blood, but perhaps you could preempt our findings, Mrs Foster?”
“I have nothing to say.”
“It’s the trace of Tommy’s blood we found that’s troubling me the most, as I’m sure you can imagine.”
Finally Carrie Foster tore her gaze away from Radcliffe and looked to her lawyer for support.
“My client is asserting her right to remain silent.”
“We know Tommy sustained injuries to his face—a split lip and a bloody nose. That much was confirmed by the A & E Department at St Thomas’. When we asked you about them previously you seemed adamant that your son remained unharmed at the time Mr Foster took him from the hotel room. And yet, as I say, we’ve detected traces of Tommy’s blood in the drain.”
“No comment.” Carrie Foster stared down at her hands. She was clasping them together on the table, as if she were praying.
“Maybe you’ll feel more inclined to speak after we’ve analyzed the hairbrush. I mean, how would you explain any trace