Girl Seven Read Online Free Page B

hell I was doing here. I knew I was kidding myself that this was a pointless exercise. I knew what I was really doing. I was looking for an excuse, any excuse, to call Mark Chester. I was looking for something to help me overcome my paralysis.
    ‘Hello?’
    It sounded like him.
    I swallowed. ‘Jensen?’
    ‘Yeah?’
    ‘Um, this is Kiyomi. Kiyomi Ishida. I don’t know if you remember—’
    ‘Kiyomi? Fuck, er... Fuck. Hi?’
    ‘Can I come in for a moment?’
    He paused for a little too long to sound polite.
    ‘Oh yeah, yeah, OK, sure.’
    I was buzzed up and he met me in his doorway looking exactly the same as I remembered him. Not that Jensen’s was a face that had particularly lodged itself in my memory, but there was nothing new or exciting about his features.
    ‘Man, you look different,’ he said with a nervous smile.
    For a second, he hesitated, as if wondering whether to hug me or shake my hand, but then he just backed away from the doorway and let me come inside.
    ‘You look nice with shorter hair though. It’s cool. Do you want a drink or something?’
    ‘You know I don’t drink.’
    ‘Well, tea. It’s like midday, babes.’
    He was just as unkempt as I remembered. His flat smelt the same, so much so that I found it hard to speak.
    ‘Tea, yeah. Anything herbal.’
    I followed him to the other end of his flat, where a tiny stove and washing machine were wedged behind a sofa.
    ‘I’m sorry I never got to see you after...’ He shook his head as he moved about his space, keeping his back to me. ‘I’m sorry anyway. It was fucking horrible. I never expected to see you again, to be honest. Didn’t think you’d ever come back. Thought you’d just... go back to Japan or something.’
    ‘Too expensive for me.’ I sat on the back of the sofa. ‘I couldn’t even afford the flight.’
    ‘Did they ever find out... anything?’
    ‘No, nothing. It’s not like anyone saw anything so...’
    Jensen put the kettle on, pushed up the sleeves of his over­sized shirt and turned to face me. ‘Ah, that’s a fucking shame, I’m sorry. I mean, you’d think they’d have found something. They spoke to everyone round here: me, the Williams kids—’
    ‘They spoke to you? Who spoke to you?’
    ‘Well, most people had uniforms come round to ask them questions. A couple of us had the guy in charge, a guy in plain clothes.’
    ‘What did you say?’
    An apologetic expression. ‘Uh... nothing. He did ask if I’d seen you that day and stuff so he must have known I was lying, but I just didn’t want to have to write up a statement or anything and... Sorry, I don’t think it would have affected their case. I just didn’t fancy telling this guy I’d seen you, that’s all. Sorry, I know you shouldn’t lie to the police and stuff, especially when it’s about important—’
    ‘What did he look like?’
    I knew straight away whom Jensen was referring to, and my stomach turned with unease.
    He frowned. ‘Black hair, really greasy, like. Old. I didn’t like him, but then who likes police, I suppose? All miserable bastards. All corrupt too, you know.’
    ‘A comb-over? Did he have a comb-over?’
    ‘Yeah, a really shit one.’
    Now I was on edge, as though someone might be listening to us.
    ‘I’m sorry I lied. It wasn’t cool,’ he said, raising his voice over the roar of boiling water.
    ‘No, I don’t mind.’ I indicated my head across the flat in the direction of my old home. ‘What about the Williams kids?’
    ‘Oh, they all wrote statements. Even the younger ones were asked questions. They’re still living there if you wanna go speak to them, except... Oh, shit, this is sad. You know Nate? The oldest? He died not long after.’
    ‘What?’ I wanted to drag Jensen away from pouring fucking tea. ‘How?’
    ‘Drive-by. Reckon he was mistaken for someone else. They got the kid that did it though; he’s in juvie. Fuck, it’s like your place is cursed!’
    Without saying a word, without saying