The Guilty One Read Online Free PDF

anything wrong, and he already plays piano very well. It is just that his fingers are too small.”
    Daniel took a breath, remembering his own childhood and being shown how to play the piano. He remembered the almost painful stretch of his young hands to find the chords.
    In the hall, getting ready to leave, Charlotte took time to tie a silk scarf around her neck. Again, Daniel was aware of how fragile she was. He watched as the beads of her spine appeared as she bent to pick up her bag.
    He thought of Sebastian waiting in the cell for Charlotte. Again, he was reminded of his own mother: he remembered waiting for her in social work offices and police stations, wondering when she would appear. Only as an adult had he managed any bitterness about those years. As a child he had been grateful that she came at all.
    They walked to Islington Police Station, on the opposite side of the road from Barnard Park. It was an exposed stretch of park, with paths and a football field. The only place to hide violence was the adventure playground that ran alongside Copenhagen Street, rimmed by bushes and trees. Daniel knew that the police had already obtained CCTV footage from Islington Borough Council. He wondered what that would reveal. The corner of Copenhagen Street, just past the incident van, was strewn with flower tributes to Ben. Daniel had stopped to read some of the messages on his way to the Stokeses’ house.
    The warmth and brightness of the morning was forbidden in the interview room. Sebastian sat at the top of the table, with Daniel and his mother facing the police officers. Sergeant Turner was accompanied this time by PC Brown, a thin expectant man whose knees banged against the desk when he moved. Daniel knew that there was another roomful of police officers listening to the conversation. The interview was video-recorded and watched from another room.
    “Okay, Sebastian,” said Sergeant Turner, “ . . . what time do you think it was when you saw Ben out playing on his bike?”
    “I don’t know.”
    “Can you remember if it was before your lunch or after?”
    “It was after lunch.”
    “It was definitely after lunch,” Charlotte commented. “I made him lunch before he went out.”
    The police officer frowned at Charlotte’s interruption and made notes.
    “Whose idea was it to go to the park?”
    Sebastian put four fingers into his mouth. He turned his mint eyes up to the ceiling and rolled them back and forth. “I don’t remember.”
    “Surely you can remember whose idea it was. He was on his bike and you didn’t have a bike. Was it your idea?”
    “ I just said I don’t remember.”
    Daniel watched the smallest spasm of rage flame in the boy’s lips. He wondered if it was this which he understood when he looked at Sebastian. Anger was what Daniel remembered most from his childhood: anger and fear. Daniel had never owned Sebastian’s confidence, but there was still something about the boy that made Daniel remember himself as a child.
    “What happened to your hand?” Sebastian asked Daniel suddenly.
    At first Daniel wondered if the boy was seeking refuge from the police officer’s questioning, or distraction from his own anger. Daniel shot a look at the police sergeant, then answered, “I fell . . . running.”
    “Did it hurt?”
    “Not much.”
    “Okay, Seb, so to get back to your story,” said Sergeant Turner, “one of you decided to go to the park, then what happened?”
    Sebastian slumped down in his chair, chin into his chest.
    Charlotte began to stroke Sebastian’s leg. “He’s very sorry, Sergeant, he’s just tired. This is all so intense, isn’t it, darling?
    “I think it’s just the detail that’s a bit wearing . . .”
    “Forgive me, Mrs. Croll, but detail is my job. Can I ask you to be quiet and try not to answer for him?”
    Mrs. Croll nodded.
    “So how did you get into the park, Seb?”
    “From the top gate . . .”
    “I see. Did you start having an argument with Ben