‘What were you afraid was going to happen?’
‘I had no specific apprehension. I just knew it would not be good for her to spend time unsupervised with those creatures. But then . . .’ He paused so long that Slider was on the brink of prompting him when he went on, very low, his head bent, so it was hard even in the silent room to hear him. ‘It was the deceit that was so hard to bear. I was used to it from Pam. I expected it from her. But not Zellah. Not . . . my little girl.’
Slider took a chance. ‘You found her mobile phone,’ he suggested.
‘Almost as soon as she’d left the house,’ he said. ‘I went up to her room. It was lying on her bed. I was worried about her being out without it. I thought I could catch her up in the car and give it to her.’
Slider shook his head. ‘That wasn’t the way it was,’ he said, gently but firmly. ‘If that was your intention, you would have gone openly and told your wife about it. But you left secretly without her knowing. You decided to follow Zellah and see what she was up to. Why was that? What aroused your suspicion?’
It was a rule they were taught early on in the CID, never to ask a question you don’t already know the answer to. Sometimes you couldn’t help it, but in the present case it was a useful tool. Wilding didn’t answer, and Slider was able to say, ‘You used the last-number recall to see who she’d been speaking to, and found she had called the young man you had forbidden her to see.’
Wilding raised his head and his voice was anguished, a cry of pain. ‘She deceived me! She must have been deceiving me for months with that – that piece of trash! I had to know! You must see that! I had to know how far things had gone, how far he had corrupted her! You must see I had to!’
‘I do see,’ Slider said. ‘If she felt she had to hide it from you, you were afraid it might be very bad.’
‘She was so innocent, she wouldn’t know – she wouldn’t see it coming. I didn’t want her to be shocked. I wanted to step in before that happened, before he exposed her to things she wouldn’t understand. So I drove to the Cooper-Hutchinsons’ house and waited there until she arrived. I saw her go in. For a moment I was relieved. And then I thought, what if that was a ruse? What if they were conniving at her ruin? So I waited. And sure enough, she came out again, alone. Dressed like . . . dressed like . . .’ Tears flowed so freely Slider wondered where all the moisture could be coming from, in a man who had been dehydrated. ‘They weren’t her clothes. Those girls – her friends – had dressed her like a prostitute.’
Slider took a bunch of tissues from the box and pushed them into his hands, but he couldn’t afford to let the momentum drop. ‘Why didn’t you stop her then?’ he asked, though he knew it would hurt. But hurt, in this case, might be a useful weapon.
‘I had to know!’ he cried out in pain. ‘I had to know the worst. If I’d stopped her then, she might have lied to me. I couldn’t bear my child to lie to my face. If it was bad, I had to know so I could face her with it.’
Interesting, Slider thought – the same rule of interrogation he had just been thinking about. Know the answer before you ask the question.
‘So you followed her to the pub.’
Wilding didn’t seem to wonder how Slider knew. He said, ‘I thought she was meeting him inside. I was going to go in and confront her, but there wasn’t a parking space, and I was afraid if I drove off to find one, she might come out and I’d miss her. And while I was still debating what to do, she did come out. She was obviously waiting for someone. And in a moment he drove up on his motorbike. Before I could get out and stop her, she got on and drove off with him. I followed, but he could weave in and out of the traffic. I couldn’t catch him up, and I lost him at the lights.’ He blew his nose again. The tears had stopped, perhaps from exhaustion of the reservoir.
‘What did you do?’
‘I drove about looking for them. It was hopeless.’
‘Why didn’t you go to his flat?’
‘I had no idea where he lived. I thought he lived with his mother in Reading, but I didn’t know the address. I didn’t think he would be taking her there. I thought, in fact, he was taking her to the Carnival. She wanted to go, but I’d forbidden it. It was too dangerous for a young girl. But it was the sort of thing I assumed he’d like.’
‘So did you go there?’
‘I tried to. But of course you can’t get near it in a car. It’s all cordoned off. I looked for a parking space and the nearest I could get was in Barlby Road. I parked there and tried walking down Ladbroke Grove, but the streets were packed. So many people – all that noise – it was bedlam. How could I find her in that crowd? It was hopeless. I was jostled and deafened – I thought I was going to be robbed – but I kept going. I was sure she was there somewhere, and I had to find her – save her . . .’ He stopped, staring dully at his hands.
‘Was it just by chance that you found them again?’ Slider asked after a moment.
‘What?’ Wilding said. He raised his head at the question. Was that wariness?
‘You were parked in Barlby Road. Your way home was back down North Pole Road. Opposite the end of North Pole Road was the fair. You thought they might have gone there – something Zellah would like, but that wouldn’t be so dangerous. She’d accepted your edict that she mustn’t go to the Carnival, but the fair was safe enough, and nearly as much fun. Did you spot them going in, or did you go in and find them inside?’
‘I didn’t see her,’ he said. He looked bewildered. ‘I didn’t think about the fair. After being jostled in the crowds for a while I couldn’t stand it any more and I went back to my car. But I couldn’t go home without her. I just drove about the streets. It was stupid – pointless. I suppose in the back of my mind I hoped I might just spot her by chance. I didn’t know what else to do. I knew she was in danger, but I couldn’t get to her.’ His hands clenched. ‘Do you know what that’s like? To be so helpless . . . If I could have found them, I’d have saved her.’
‘But by the time you did find her, it was too late to save her,’ Slider said. ‘So there was only one thing left to do.’
‘I tell you, I never found her,’ he said. ‘In the end I went home without her. I’ll never forgive myself. Not to be there when she needed me . . .’
‘What made you look around Old Oak Common? You were driving around the streets. Was it just chance you saw her there?’
‘I never thought to go there. Why should I?’
‘You saw her standing by the side of the road. You stopped the car. She ran and jumped in. Then you asked her what she’d been up to. There was a terrible row. Believe me, I understand. It’s the worst thing for a father to go through, the realization that he hasn’t been able to keep his daughter safe. She defied you and jumped out of the car. In anguish, you followed. You were too late to save her body, but you could still save her soul.’
‘What are you saying?’ Wilding’s eyes were wide, his face a gape of horror.
Slider hardened his voice. ‘But you’d known all along it was going to come to that, hadn’t you? From the moment you knew she was deceiving you to see that man. You knew it was too late. Which was why you’d gone prepared. You knew what you would have to do, and when the moment came—’
‘You’re saying . . .’ Wilding’s voice was hoarse. ‘You mean . . . you think I killed her?’ He started to rise from his seat, and it was horribly primordial, like a rock being forced up by tectonic pressures. ‘No! You can’t say that! You can’t say that! My Zellah! My own precious love! Take it back! You take it back!’