INTERVIEW ROOM TWO, GREATER LONDON METROPOLITAN POLICE STATION, SOUTH EAST LONDON

"Emergency services, which service do you require?"

"Um, police. I need to speak to the police."

"Connecting you to the police now... "

*ringing*

"You are connected to Thanet police, what's your emergency?"

"I - I killed someone."

"You killed someone?"

"Yes."

"Are you with them now, can you check if they're still breathing?"

"No I'm not with them now. It happened a few weeks ago. I'm on the run - this happened in London, we're in Broadstairs now. You're looking for Harry Styles, he's wanted in connection with the murder. But it wasn't him, it was me. I killed Christopher Henshall."

"Can I take your name?"

"My name is Chloe Lewis."

"And where are you Chloe?"

"I'm in the car park at Joss Bay in Broadstairs."

"Are you armed?"

"What - no, no of course not. I'm not a violent person. He - Chris - he threatened me, he said he was going to rape me. He was on the ground, Harry had beaten him up but he was alive, he was starting to come round. He tried to grab me, he was asking me to call for help. And I was going to, I swear I was going to. But I was afraid, I was frozen to the spot, and then he started getting nasty, threatening to finish me off... he threatened to rape me next time..." *sobbing*

"OK Chloe. Take a deep breath for me. The police are on their way to you now."

"Hurry, please. I don't want to have to face Harry. He's going to be so angry with me."

"Are you in danger?"

"No, no, I don't mean like that. Harry wouldn't hurt me. I just mean... he doesn't know. He thinks he killed Chris. Because he beat him up. And then he ran away. He doesn't know I was the one who finished Chris off."

"Are you sure you're not in any danger?"

"No I swear I'm not. And Harry isn't a threat, he isn't dangerous to anyone, I promise. He'll be here when you get here. But he's not the one you want, I am."

"OK, just stay where you are. The police are on their way."

"I need to explain - I didn't remember." *Gasping*

"What didn't you remember?"

"Any of it. I'm so sorry. Everyone thought Harry did it; he thought so, I thought so. I didn't remember it was me. I think my mind blocked it out. But you have to believe me, I didn't mean to deceive anyone. I didn't know it was me. I never would have let Harry take the blame."

"Take deep breaths for me Chloe, try not to panic."

"I'm trying." *Crying* "Are the police going to be long? Will they arrest me?"

"They'll be there soon. They'll take you to a police station and take a statement from you."

"I want to tell you, please can I tell you? Is this recorded?"

"This call is recorded, yes. Wait for the police to speak to you properly -"

"Chris made my life hell. I slept with him a couple of times, a few years back. We didn't use protection, he got me pregnant and then he forced me to abort his baby, he said that if I didn't, there were ways he could get rid of it himself and make it look like an accident. He was going to hurt me. He bullied me, turned everyone on the estate against me because I didn't want to have sex with him. Not that I had any friends there anyway, but he made them laugh at me, he made my life a misery. I was too weak to stand up to him, too weak to stand up for my baby. I got rid of it like he wanted, but he still carried on terrorising me. Every time he was in the pub - the Flute and Fiddle - he made crude gestures to me, he made my skin crawl. I could never escape from him." *Muffled sobs*

"Chloe, just breathe for me, the police are nearly there. They'll take a statement from you."

"Harry came into the pub that evening to talk to Chris, but Chris wasn't there. Harry waited, and then when he arrived, just as I was finishing my shift, they both left. We all walked out at the same time. Chris was goading me again, saying sexual things to me. I felt uncomfortable, I just wanted him to stop. I told him to leave me alone but he grabbed me and wouldn't let me go. I scratched him and then Harry intervened - he punched Chris, forced him to let go of me, and I ran. I heard them fighting but I didn't look back until I got to the door of my block of flats. I saw Harry punch Chris a couple of times - Chris was on the floor at this point, and then Harry ran away. Chris wasn't moving: I thought he was dead. I knew I needed to call for help, so I walked back to him. There was no one else around. When I got close to him I realised he was still alive, and that's when he told me to call for help. He called me a dumb bitch. I was terrified of him, even when he was on the ground with a battered face. That made him even more frightening somehow. And then he started threatening me. He said he would finish me off when he was able - those were his exact words. He called me a frigid bitch - that was because I didn't want to have sex with him anymore, he always called me that, that's why they all laughed at me. He called me a frigid bitch, and said that next time -" *gasps, hysterical sobs* 

"Deep breaths Chloe -"

" - next time I wouldn't have a choice. He meant he would rape me, and I believed him. He would have raped me, he was more than capable. So I knew, I knew I couldn't carry on living in fear of his attack. I had to put a stop to it. I was so frightened of him, I was frightened of him hurting me, I was frightened of what he would do to me. I lived in fear of him already, I couldn't take any more. I picked up a rock from the ground. It might have been a chunk of concrete, I'm not sure. All I remember is it was sort of square, with sharp corners. I didn't really think about it, I just picked it up and held it above his head, and then I hurled it at him as hard as I could. It smashed into his skull and bounced away onto the ground. I knew he was dead then. His eyes were still open, but he was limp. He'd stopped breathing. And then I went straight home. I knew he couldn't ever hurt me again. I think I must have blacked out not long after, and when I came round it was dark. I heard sirens. I looked out of my window, saw the police arrive, saw Chris on the ground. But I didn't remember doing it, I swear I didn't. I remembered Harry punching him, I remember them fighting. But I didn't remember the rest, I swear to you. Everything that happened after that was my fault. All of it."

"Keep taking those deep breaths. Is there anyone with you now, Chloe? Whereabouts are you exactly?"

"I'm sitting in the grass at the edge of the car park, on top of the cliffs. Harry will be back any minute, I sent him back to the beach to get the bags - we camped there last night. Oh God, we stole a car too. We needed it to get away. And we stole a number plate. We're in so much trouble, aren't we?" *sounds of deep breathing*

"You stole a car?"

"Yes, in Dumfries, outside the railway station. Harry felt guilty, I know he did. I told him to drive to Newcastle airport to find a similar car in the long stay car park, and then I switched the number plate to buy us some time to escape the police. We thought they were onto us after they traced Harry's call to Sofía on Dylan's birthday from the phonebox in Dumfries. Harry didn't ask for any of this. None of it is his fault. He thought he killed Chris, but it was me. It was me..."

"I need you to sit tight, OK? Keep Harry there too, OK?"

"The phone was my idea too. The false trail, I mean. We planted my phone with Harry's SIM card on a train out of London. We wanted to lead the police in the wrong direction. I planted the phone, I came up with the idea. I bought a map and led us across the country on the back roads so we wouldn't be found. Harry would have been caught in five minutes flat if it wasn't for me. He isn't to blame - he didn't have a clue what he was doing most of the time. It was almost funny, really. When we stole the car, he did it because he was scared. He was so frightened of being put in prison, and Dylan growing up without a father, just like he did. He needs help - Harry, I mean. He's been through something horrific in his childhood. Make sure he gets proper help to deal with it all." *More deep breathing, becoming calmer*

"You've been really brave calling the police, Chloe. I've made some notes, they'll know who you are when they arrive, OK? Harry too. Just stay calm, not much longer now."

"I'm calm. I'm calm. I feel so much better for getting this off my chest. I feel relieved. I feel like a weight has been lifted, now I remember it all. I only remembered last night. I called you as soon as I could. I don't want to lie. I'm ready to face up to what I've done. Harry's coming up now, with all of our stuff. I can see the top of his head. I have to go, I have to tell him the truth before the police get here. He deserves to hear it from me."

"Hold on Chloe, don't hang up the phone, just stay on the line -" *end of recording*

DI Richards presses the button on the speaker sitting on the table in interview room two, silencing the crackling that signifies the end of the recording of the 999 call made to the police by Chloe Lewis the previous morning. Richards shifts in her chair, crossing her legs under the table and eyeing the man in front of her with a mixture of curiosity, pity and understanding. A quick glance to her left informs her that DS Willis is poised and ready to continue with the interview.

Harry Styles has been held in custody for over twenty four hours while evidence has been examined, further interviews have been conducted with witnesses and a forensic post mortem has been carried out on Chloe's body. He has already been spoken to at length, and has now been brought back from the cells for a second round of questioning. Upon listening to the recording of the 999 call, and hearing Chloe's voice echoing mercilessly around the cold, clinical interview room, he has visibly shrunk before the two detectives and now sits hunched in a hard, blue plastic chair the opposite side of the table, his head in his hands. Richards and Willis are both confident they now have an accurate picture of the circumstances surrounding the death of Christopher Henshall, and that Harry, although responsible for his assault, was not responsible for his death. 

Harry looks up only when Willis addresses a question to him.

"Harry - you stated in your previous interview that on the night of the attack on Christopher Henshall you never intended to kill him. Can you tell me, in your own words, what exactly your intention was?"

Harry clears his throat and removes his hands from either side of his head, resting them on the table in front of him. His eyes are red and his skin is blotchy. He looks like a man who has not slept properly in a long time. "I wanted to frighten him off. He had been making threats behind my back about my son, Dylan: threatening to hurt him if I didn't do what Chris wanted. He was trying to get me back into dealing again. Dealing drugs. I had already told him I wasn't interested, but he wouldn't let it lie. I think he thought of himself as a bit of a gangster on the estate. Since he started dealing himself he thought he could push people around. I'm not easily intimidated, but it was a step too far when he brought Dylan into it."

Willis nods, glancing down at the pad of paper in front of him. "We have spoken to the witnesses you gave us yesterday. Both men corroborated your story about the threats made by Mr Henshall against your son."

Harry says nothing, but glances too at the pad of paper and then in turn at Richards and Willis. His hair is lank and lifeless, the appears to be no light behind his eyes. He reminds Richards of an empty shell.

"You said Henshall thought he could push people around," Richards states, holding Harry's gaze with a steely one of her own. "Who else did he push around?"

"Anyone and everyone," Harry answers at once. "He had Ian and Colette - the owners of the Flute and Fiddle - under his thumb. He brought a lot of custom into the pub when he started dealing in there and they let him get away with pretty much anything. Most of his little cronies on the estate were scared of him too, and did as they were told. No one really stood up to him that I ever saw."

"And would you consider yourself one of his cronies?"

Harry snorts. "No. I had a couple of drinks with him in the Flute occasionally. But once he started pushing me to deal, I backed off. I didn't want to get involved in all that again."

"And Chloe Lewis?"

Harry flinches at the sound of her name, his eyes darting briefly between Richards and Willis before dropping to the plastic table top. "What about her?"

"Did Chris push her around?"

It is a couple of seconds before Harry answers. He seems to swallow hard, gaining his composure before he looks up and meets Richards' eye squarely. "He was a bully. He spoke to her like shit, intimidated her, made her feel afraid. Anyone could see that."

"Yet according to her confession, she found the courage to deliver the final blow that killed him."

Harry's eyes are glistening under the fluorescent lights. His hand appears to tremble as he runs it through his hair, and his voice, when he finally speaks, audibly shakes. "Like she said, they had history. Chris had even bragged about her to me a couple of times, saying she fancied him. He even once implied they'd... well, that something had happened between them. I didn't really give it much thought; Chris was always full of shit like that. He reckoned every woman wanted a piece of him. But I saw the way Chloe reacted whenever he came in the pub. She was terrified of him. And he knew it. He took every opportunity to ridicule her publicly, and on the night I attacked him he was going at her, worse than I had ever seen."

"Can you elaborate on that?" Richards leans forwards on the table top, clasping her hands together on top of her brown manila file.

"When we left the pub that night - me and Chris - she was finishing her shift. She walked out with us, and Chris just terrorised her the whole way. He was trying to get a reaction out of her. Trying to frighten her. You don't understand what she was like back then. She was like a frightened little mouse all the time. She practically cringed whenever anyone spoke to her."

"And later?"

Harry's brow creases momentarily in confusion. "Later?"

"You said she was a mouse back then. What changed?"

Harry closes his eyes for a moment, as though whatever he is remembering is causing him physical pain. His Adam's apple moves in his throat as he swallows again, his voice wavering once more as he answers the question. "She changed. Everything changed. She came out of her shell once she was away from that place, started standing up for herself. She's like a different person now. I mean -" he breaks off and stares at the ceiling. "I mean, she was a different person. Towards the... towards the end."

"And why do you think she changed?"

"She trusted me." This is barely above a whisper.

"Why?"

"I dunno... we grew closer. We relied on each other for everything. We barely spoke another word to anyone else the whole time we were on the run. We only had each other. You can't spend that amount of time with someone and not get to know them, not get close."

"But she never told you about her part in the attack on Christopher Henshall."

"I've already told you all this. Not until the clifftop. I thought it was my fault, all of it. That's why I did a runner: I was scared of going to prison, losing my family. I had no idea she went back after I'd left him lying there that night. No idea she'd whacked him over the head with a rock. I didn't even know he was the guy from her past - she told me everything about all that except the guy's name. She implied he wasn't around anymore... technically it wasn't a lie, I suppose."

Richards and Willis exchange a look. "What exactly did Chloe tell you had happened between her and Chris?" Willis asks.

"She told me she was lonely, and that he had seemed like a nice guy at first. She had sex with him because she wanted him to like her, but he used her. She didn't enjoy it. She got pregnant and he basically forced her into an abortion. She said he threatened to harm her if she didn't get rid of the baby. And knowing Chris as I do - did - I believed her. He threatened my son for fuck's sake - a defenceless child. He was capable of anything."

Richards casts another glance down at her paperwork, fairly certain that her next line of questioning, and the discovery during the post mortem, is going to come as something of a shock to Harry. "Tell me about your relationship with Chloe. You seem, if I may say, an unlikely pairing."

Harry looks wrongfooted at the sudden change in direction. "Until a few weeks ago I'd never even met her."

"You said you had become close during your time together in hiding."

"Yes," Harry answers stiffly.

"When Chloe fell, you were heard shouting to her by our officers. You were heard telling her you loved her."

Harry pulls his hands off the table top abruptly and tugs at the sleeves of his hoodie, covering his hands before shoving them in his lap without answering. His gaze shifts from the detectives to the green light flashing on the recording equipment. He says nothing.

"Were you in love with Chloe?"

"I don't want to talk about that."

"Were you having a sexual relationship with Chloe?" Willis asks bluntly.

Harry hesitates only a fraction of a second before jutting out his jaw. "Yes."

"How long had that sexual relationship been going on?"

Harry shrugs. "Dunno. A couple of weeks."

"Not from the start of your absconding, then?"

"It didn't happen straight away, no."

"When did it begin? Can you remember?"

"Like I said, a couple of weeks ago. When we first arrived in Broadstairs and stayed at the big hotel. I don't know the date."

"And it happened more than once?"

"Yes." This reply comes through gritted teeth.

"Did you use any form of contraception on any occasion?"

"What the fuck is this?" Harry snarls, lifting his head and glaring at DI Richards. "Why the fuck does any of this matter? It doesn't have anything to do with the attack on Chris. It happened after he died. It's none of your business." He sits back in his seat, breathing hard, his arms folded tightly across his chest, his knee jiggling nervously. He doesn't notice the uncomfortable glance exchanged between Richards and Willis.

"It matters, because Chloe's post mortem revealed she was in the very first stages of pregnancy," Richards replies, softening her tone and her expression. "It appears she had only just conceived. And from what you've just told us, it's highly likely that you were the father, unless Chloe had sex with anyone else in the time you were on the run together."

The colour has drained from Harry's face. His eyes appear to swim out of focus for the briefest moment, and his hunched posture suddenly gives him the appearance of a frightened child. He runs his tongue over his lips nervously, his eyes wide and darting back and forth between the two detectives.

"No - you've got that wrong - she can't have been... she couldn't have kids..."

"It's likely Chloe wouldn't even have realised herself yet," Richards assures Harry gently. "And her medical records show that although there were complications following her abortion two years ago it wouldn't have been impossible for her to conceive naturally. Unlikely, yes, but not medically impossible."

Harry is now visibly shaking, his skin pale and clammy. "She can't have realised," he mutters hoarsely, shaking his head slowly from side to side. "She deeply regretted the abortion - she wouldn't have just given up her own life if she thought she had a baby growing inside her. Especially not my baby... she wouldn't have let go, she wouldn't have fallen."

His voice breaks and he drops his head into his hands, his shoulders heaving.

"I'm sorry to be the one to give you that news," Richards apologises softly. "As you heard, Chloe gave no indication during her confession that she was pregnant. My guess would be that you are right - she didn't know. Like I said, it was such early days - she possibly wouldn't even have had any symptoms, or if she did she may not have known what they were." She pauses, the only sound in the room that of Harry's sharp intakes of breath as he attempts to control his grief. "Was Chloe in love with you, Harry?"

"For the benefit of the tape, Mr Styles is nodding," Willis supplies.

"And you felt the same way?" Richards probes gently.

"I don't know," Harry chokes. "I cared for her. I felt sorry for her. She'd been through so much. I did love her, yes. I don't know if I was in love with her - I love Sofía, and it just got really complicated. Chloe saved my life - not just yesterday, but over and over again. She changed so much, but she changed me too. She made me a better person. She gave up everything for me, and I just can't believe she's dead, I can't believe I'll never see her again, I can't believe she's gone from my life forever. I just can't get my head around it."

"Why do you think she let go on purpose?" Richards wants to know.

"We thought that wooden fence post we were hanging onto was going to snap, or give way, or something. I think she thought it wouldn't take the weight of the two of us, but it might hold one. She started saying weird things, asking me not to forget her. I think she let go because she wanted to give me a chance at -" his voice breaks again. "A chance at sorting out my life. And by the time I realised what she was going to do, it was too late to stop her. I wouldn't have wanted her to sacrifice her own life for mine, I never wanted that. She should have held on, she didn't know for sure we wouldn't both survive!" His voice has risen; he leans forward, his elbows resting on the table, and pulls at the roots of his own hair with his fingers, his breathing laboured. Richards feels a sharp stab of sympathy for him.

"There's no way of knowing for certain whether you both would have fallen if she had held on," Willis offers, "but the emergency team at the scene confirmed the ground was unstable, and they only had seconds to reach you. If they hadn't pulled you up when they did, it's possible you could have fallen too. I think it's likely that Chloe's actions bought you an extra few seconds up there."

This is clearly no comfort to Harry, whose cheeks are wet with tears. Richards passes a box of Kleenex across the desk.

"Do you believe she killed Chris?" Willis asks quietly, and Harry lifts his head in surprise, ignoring the proffered tissues and wiping his face with the cuff of his hoodie covering his fist.

"Yes," he answers. "She was haunted by nightmares for weeks. She even said she thought her subconscious was trying to tell her something, something her mind had buried. I thought it was the trauma of losing her parents when she was just a kid, but now it all makes sense. Everything has fallen into place. Chris terrorised her for two years. She was afraid of him, of what he would do to her. And if you ask me, he got what he deserved. When she told me what he'd done to her, how he'd treated her when she was lonely and vulnerable, I wanted to kill him, even though I thought I already had. But I'm even more glad that son of a bitch got his comeuppance from the one person he thought would never fight back. I'm so fucking proud of her, and I just wish she was here so I could tell her -" His voice breaks again and he takes a deep, shaky breath. "I just wish she was here." 

Richards nods sympathetically, an overwhelming bubble of emotion threatening to rise in her chest. She has spent the last few weeks putting all her time and energy into chasing what she believed was a violent criminal across the country, who may or may not have been coercing an impressionable young woman into helping him. As each piece of evidence came to light - the unidentifiable fingerprints on the iPhone on the Manchester-bound train, the rock used to hit Christopher Henshall that contained no DNA belonging to Harry, the witness statements that painted Chris as a egomaniacal bully with a vendetta against Chloe Lewis - she began to realise that nothing was as it seemed. But she could never have imagined in a million years that the real culprit was figuratively under her nose all along, had fallen in love with the prime suspect and would take her own life in an attempt to right the wrongs she felt she had inflicted upon her lover.

While Willis suspends the interview, explaining to Harry that they will need to go through the details of the assault and all other offences committed over the last few weeks before they can decide how he will be charged, Richards gets to her feet and paces the floor until Harry is ready to be taken back to his cell for a break. As they lead him out of the room and along the corridor past the reception desk, a young woman can be heard speaking to the officer on duty, her Spanish accent clearly audible. 

"Please - can you just tell me if they will be holding him here any longer - you've already detained him for twenty four hours, you have to charge him or release him -"

Richards watches as Harry's head snaps up and his eyes find Sofía's across the room. Sofía starts as if to come over to him but Richards holds her hand up in a halting motion and Sofía stops immediately. "No contact, please," Richards says firmly.

"Why are you keeping him?" Sofía calls after them, her voice echoing along the stark, empty walls of the station. "What's happening? Will someone please just tell me what's going on?"

As the door to the cells bangs shut behind them silencing Sofía's pleas, Richards finds herself, to her own surprise, making a silent prayer that this terrible tragedy has not been in vain, and that somehow this little family can find their way forward through the darkness to their happy ending. 

Richards catches Harry's eye. In the depths of his soul, amidst the fear, misery and helplessness, she catches the briefest flicker of hope.

---***---

Just the epilogue left now ❤