But there was sweat on Reaney’s upper lip.
‘Can you imagine the Waces killing in defence of the church?’
‘No,’ said Reaney automatically. Then, ‘I dunno. ’Ow the fuck would I know?’
Strike turned a page in his notebook.
‘Did you ever see guns when you were at Chapman Farm?’
‘No.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘Yeah, ’course I’m fucking sure.’
‘You didn’t take guns there?’
‘No I fucking didn’t. ’Oo says I did?’
‘Were livestock slaughtered at the farm?’
‘Wha’?’
‘Did church members personally wring chickens’ necks? Slaughter pigs?’
‘Chickens, yeah,’ said Reaney. ‘Not the pigs. They wen’ to the abattoir.’
‘Did you ever witness anyone killing an animal with a hatchet?’
‘No.’
‘Ever hide a hatchet in a tree in the woods?’
‘The fuck you tryin’ to pin on me?’ snarled Reaney, now openly aggressive. ‘Wha’re you up to?’
‘I’m trying to find out why there was a hatchet hidden in a tree.’
‘I don’ fuckin’ know. Why would I know? Give a dog a bad name, is it? First guns and now you’re tryna pin a fuckin’ hatchet on me? I never killed nobody at Chapman Farm, if that’s what you’re fuckin’—’
Out of the corner of his eye, Strike saw the large black prisoner watching Reaney shift in his seat. Reaney appeared to sense the larger man’s scrutiny, because he broke off again, though he found it harder to contain his agitation, fidgeting in his seat, blinking furiously.
‘You seem upset,’ said Strike, watching him.
‘Fuckin’ upset?’ snarled Reaney. ‘You come in ’ere sayin’ I fuckin’ killed—’
‘I never mentioned killing anyone. I asked about livestock being slaughtered.’
‘I never fuckin’ – stuff at that farm – you weren’ there. You don’ fuckin’ know what went on.’
‘The point of this interview is to find out what went on.’
‘What ’appened in there, what you were made to do, it plays on your fuckin’ mind, that’s why I still ’ave fuckin’ nightmares, but I never killed nobody, all right? An’ I don’ know nuffin’ about no fuckin’ hatchet,’ Reaney added, although he looked away from Strike as he said it, those hard-blinking eyes roaming over the visitors’ room as though seeking safe haven.
‘What d’you mean by “what you were made to do”?’
Reaney was chewing the inside of his cheek again. Finally he looked back at Strike and said forcefully,
‘Ev’ryone ’ad to do stuff we didn’ wanna do.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like all of it.’
‘Give me examples.’
‘Doin’ stuff that – jus’ to ’umiliate people. Shovellin’ shit an’ cleanin’ up after them.’
‘Who’s “them”?’
‘Them. The family, the Waces.’
‘Any particular things you had to do that keep playing on your mind?’
‘All of it,’ said Reaney.
‘What d’you mean by “cleaning up” after the Waces?’
‘Jus’ – you unnerstand fuckin’ English – cleanin’ the bogs an’ stuff.’
‘Sure that’s all it was?’
‘Yeah, I’m fuckin’ sure.’
‘You were at the farm when Daiyu Wace drowned, weren’t you?’
He saw the muscles in Reaney’s jaw tighten.
‘Why?’
‘You were there, right?’
‘I slept froo the ole fuckin’ thing.’
‘Were you supposed to be in the truck that morning? With Cherie?’
‘Why does that matter?’
When Reaney merely blinked, Strike became more specific.
‘Were you supposed to be on the vegetable run?’
‘Yeah, bu’ I overslept.’
‘When did you wake up?’
‘Why’re you askin’ abou’ this?’
‘I told you, I want information. When did you wake up?’
‘I dunno. When ev’ryone was kickin’ off because the little b—’
Reaney cut himself off.
‘The little—?’ prompted Strike. When Reaney didn’t answer, he said,
‘I take it you didn’t like Daiyu?’
‘Nobody fuckin’ liked ’er. Fuckin’ spoiled fuckin’ rotten. Ask anyone ’oo was there.’
‘So you woke up when everyone was kicking off because Daiyu had disappeared?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you hear the people on early duty telling the Waces they’d seen her leaving on the truck with Cherie?’
‘Why the fuck d’you wanna know tha’?’
‘I’m not gonna talk for them. Ask them what they seen.’
‘I’m asking what
Apparently deciding this answer couldn’t incriminate him, Reaney finally muttered,
‘Yeah… they seen ’er leave.’
‘Were Jonathan and Mazu both present at the farm when you woke up?’
‘Yeah.’
‘How soon did you find out Daiyu had drowned?’
‘Can’ remember.’
‘Try.’
The tiger rippled yet again. The blue eyes blinked, over-hard.
‘Later that mornin’. The police come. Wiv Cherie.’
‘Was she distressed about Daiyu drowning?’
‘’Course she fuckin’ was,’ said Reaney.
‘Cherie left the farm for good shortly before you did, right?’
‘Can’ remember.’
‘I think you can.’
Reaney sucked in his hollow cheeks. Strike had a feeling this was a habitual expression prior to violence. He looked steadily back at Reaney, who blinked first, hard.
‘Yeah, she wen’ after the inquiry fing.’
‘The inquest?’
‘Yeah.’
‘And she didn’t tell you where she was going?’
‘Didn’t tell no one. She left in the middle of the night.’
‘And what made
‘Jus’ ’ad enough of the place.’
‘Did Draper leave when you did?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you stay in touch?’
‘No.’
‘Did you keep in contact with anyone from the UHC?’
‘No.’
