in Sheffield for over a year, see what reaction you get.’
‘What do you think? Father shows up at his digs wanting to make amends and George snaps?’ Sian asked.
‘I’m not sure. It does seem strange that Brian Appleby would move to Sheffield and not contact his son.’
‘He doesn’t look like he’s got the strength to string his father up. His arms are like twigs.’
‘A lot of students seem to be sporting the emaciated look these days. I don’t like it,’ Matilda said.
‘No. A bloke should have some meat on him. Have you seen my Stuart? Built like a rugby player with thighs to match. Lovely,’ Sian said, almost drooling.
‘OK, Sian, when you’re ready,’ Matilda nodded to the interview room.
When Sian broke the news of his father’s death, she handed George a tissue. He had his head down, but there were no tears.
‘Does my mum know?’ he asked, looking up.
‘Yes.’
‘What about Alicia?’
‘I think that’s been taken care of. George, we believe your father was murdered.’
‘Murdered? Because of what he did?’
‘We don’t know. George, your father was living here in Sheffield.’
‘What?’ He seemed more shocked by that than hearing his father had been killed.
‘He was living in Linden Avenue. Just off Meadowhead,’ Scott said.
He shrugged. ‘I’ve been drinking on Woodseats. That’s not far away, is it?’
‘No it isn’t.’
‘George, has your father tried to contact you at all?’
‘No. Never. How long has he been living up here?’
‘About a year.’
‘Bloody hell.’
‘George, did your father know you were studying in Sheffield?’
‘I’m sorry, but do you mind not calling him my father? What he did … well, he’s not my dad. I refuse to have that kind of person as my dad. To answer your question, no, he didn’t know I was studying in Sheffield. As far as I’m aware, most of the family washed their hands of him when he was found guilty. My mum, sister, aunts and uncles, nobody went to visit him.’
‘From our point of view, it seems strange that you both ended up in Sheffield,’ Sian said.
‘Well, it’s a very popular city for universities. You know, people from all over the country come here.’
‘But we don’t know why your fa— Brian moved here. Is there any link your family has to Sheffield?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Why would he choose Sheffield?’
‘I have no idea. He was locked up in 2008. I was a child. I don’t know him at all,’ he said, nervously scratching at his wrists.
‘Is there anyone who would know about why he’d moved here?’
He shrugged again. ‘You’d need to ask my mum, but I doubt she’d know either. Maybe he made friends with someone in prison who lives here, I’m sorry. I can’t help you,’ George said, getting agitated.
‘George,’ Sian said, adjusting herself in her hard plastic seat, ‘we found this address book in your father’s – Brian’s – house. He knew where you lived.’
‘What?’
Sian pushed it across the table to George. The book was open at the As with George’s details written in neat block capitals.
‘Oh my God,’ he exclaimed. ‘How did he …? I …’
‘Did he ever come to see you?’
‘No.’
‘Did your housemates say you’d had a visitor while you were out, or did they notice someone hanging around?’
‘No,’ he replied, his face was a map of worry. ‘Do you think he was following me?’
‘I really don’t know, George. I’m sorry.’
‘This is a nightmare.’ He ran his skinny fingers through his tangled hair.
‘OK.’ Sian shifted in her seat again. ‘George, I’m only asking this for elimination purposes, but where were you on Thursday night?’
‘Last Thursday?’ he asked quickly. His eyes widened.
‘Yes.’
‘Is that when he was …?’
‘Yes.’
‘I was at home.’
‘Can anyone verify that?’
‘No, I don’t think so. I was in my room. I should have been working in the uni bar but there was a balls-up with the rota. I didn’t mind. I was shattered after working four nights in a row until the early hours. I decided to have an early night instead.’
‘How early?’
‘I don’t know. About nine o’clock, I think.’
‘Alone?’
‘Of course alone. I thought you were asking me for elimination purposes? It sounds like you’re accusing me of something.’
‘Sian,’ Matilda said through her earpiece. ‘Ask him about his feelings towards his father. Call him his father too.’
‘George, how do you feel about your dad?’
His eyes flitted from Sian to Scott and back again. He swallowed hard a couple of times. Eventually, he replied. ‘I despise him.’ He spoke with such venom and hatred that it seemed to resound off the walls.
‘Why is that?’
‘Wouldn’t you hate your dad if he raped little girls?’
‘But he’s still your father at the end of the day.’
A wave of emotions swept across George’s pale face. ‘I despise him. For what he did, I hate him. I physically hate the man. He’s not my dad. As far as I’m concerned I don’t have a dad.’
‘What do you think?’ Matilda asked Sian as they stood in the foyer of the station watching through the doors as Scott led George to the car.
‘He hates his father. Hate is a very good motive for
