The Lost

‘Sorry, still working out how to use it... There.’ She looked up from the phone’s screen. ‘Before I start, is it OK to call you Jonah or would you prefer Sergeant Colley?’

‘Jonah’s fine.’

‘And you’re sure you don’t mind me recording this?’

‘No, go ahead.’

‘Thanks, that’s brilliant.’ She had a nice smile, he realised. ‘So, you were telling me how you were feeling?’

‘OK. You know.’ He shrugged. ‘The knee hurts a bit.’

‘It must have been a very traumatic experience.’ She was looking at him with an expression of sympathy. ‘What was your first thought? When you went into the warehouse and saw the bodies?’

‘I, uh, I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.’

‘Can you try?’

Jonah rubbed the back of his neck, hating having to put it into words. ‘Shocked, I suppose.’

‘Can you describe it?’

Jonah had already done that more than enough times already. He could still feel the warehouse’s chill, smell the dank air as his footsteps echoed on the stone floor.

‘Can we come back to that later?’

Something that could have been disappointment flitted across her face, then passed. ‘Of course. But could you tell me how you felt? Were you scared?’

Jesus, what sort of a question was that? ‘It was an unknown situation,’ Jonah said, falling back on jargon.

‘Is that a yes?’

He searched for a way out, then shrugged. ‘If you like.’

‘Did you fear for your life?’

It was a clumsy thing for a counsellor to ask, but Jonah could guess now what this was leading up to. She was fishing for signs of PTSD. Trouble sleeping, mood swings. Flashbacks.

‘There wasn’t much time to think about it,’ he said, wishing he’d not agreed to this.

She nodded, as if he was finally telling her what she wanted to hear. ‘No, of course. I expect you just did what you had to?’

‘Uh, well...’

‘I realise your training would have helped in that sort of situation, but... Well, it must have been hard to deal with. I understand you knew the police officer who died, DS Gavin McKinney. In fact, he was best man at your wedding.’

Here we go again. ‘We knew each other years ago, but I hadn’t seen him in a long time.’

‘I see.’ Again, there was a hint of disappointment. ‘And the other victims. Can you tell me a little about them?’

‘No, sorry,’ Jonah said, kneading his eyes. He really wanted to lie down and sleep. ‘The only one I actually saw was the girl.’

‘The girl. Right.’ Daly quickly leafed through her notes. ‘This would be... Nadine, is that right?’

‘That’s what she told me.’

Daly blinked. ‘She was alive when you found her?’

Jonah was beginning to feel uncomfortable about this. ‘I don’t think I should be going into details like that.’

‘No, of course not,’ she said quickly. ‘But that must make it worse, finding one of the victims alive. And then being unable to save her. How does that make you feel?’

Suddenly Jonah found it hard to talk. He looked away. ‘Not great.’

‘Did she tell you anything else apart from her name?’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

It came out sharper than he’d intended, but even if he’d felt comfortable discussing that, he didn’t see how it was relevant now.

‘I was... I’m just trying to get an idea of how it might have affected you.’ Daly’s cheeks had reddened. She seemed flustered. ‘It must have been devastating. Especially after everything else you’ve been through.’

He thought he must have misunderstood. A counsellor couldn’t be this ham-fisted. ‘Everything else?’

‘Well, you’re no stranger to tragedy, are you? I mean, not after what happened to—’

‘I know what you mean.’ Jonah felt like he’d been clubbed. ‘That was completely different.’

‘Yes, of course.’ Daly was nodding earnestly. ‘But as a parent myself I can’t begin to imagine what that must have been like. Do you think you can ever get over something like that?’

‘What is this?’ Jonah’s growing anger and incredulity was giving way to a growing unease. All at once it hit him. ‘You’re not a counsellor, are you?’

The bright smile held for a moment longer, then she let it go. ‘I never said I was.’

Oh, shit. ‘You’re a reporter.’