The Priest Read Free Page B

her pale blue uniform under narrow hips as she sat down. The plastic name
     tag on her chest said, simply, Sorenson.
    ‘Dr Baggot said to remind you to keep this short, Inspector,’ she warned Brogan. ‘Jesica’s not really well enough.’
    Brogan muttered something about the need to act fast and that she’d keep it as brief as possible. Then she took a chair and
     placed it in a position by the bed where she could be in the girl’s eyeline. She drew another over beside it, for Mulcahy.
     Cassidy remained standing by the door. As Mulcahy sat down, he felt a momentary flicker of uncertainty. His Spanish was fine
     for most situations. He’d lived in Madrid for seven years, worked, socialised, and even romanced in the language. But could
     he be subtle enough for the delicate handling this situation would require? He’d just have to keep it simple. By the look
     of her, the girl wouldn’t be able to say much anyway. He could always shut the interview down if it wasn’t going well.
    Mulcahy looked up to make sure Brogan hadn’t spottedhis hesitation, but she was busy asking Nurse Sorenson to wake up Jesica.
    The nurse nodded and touched her patient gently on the shoulder. ‘Jesica, love, some people are here to see you.’
    A low moan came from somewhere deep inside the girl, but she didn’t move. Mulcahy coughed gently, to clear his throat. The
     narrow adolescent body beneath the sheets stiffened visibly, and the girl’s head jerked round on the pillow. One puffed eyelid
     flickered open fractionally, then the other, fixing on Brogan who was first in her sightline.
    ‘Hello, Jesica,’ Brogan began. Calm, soft and steady. She smiled at the girl. What little white was left in Jesica’s eyes
     shone with anxiety as they flicked from Brogan’s face to Mulcahy’s.
    ‘
Buenos días, Jesica
,’ Mulcahy said, trying to keep his voice low and reassuring. Even so, she flinched when she heard his voice.
    ‘
Tranquilo, niña,
’ he said, as softly as he could. ‘
No te preocupes. Somos policías. Queremos ayudarte.
’
    Don’t worry. We’re police. We want to help you.
    The girl trembled at every word he spoke. Instinct urged him to reach out and take her hand, to try to comfort her with something
     other than words. But Brogan had been very specific, and he knew it himself, from long experience: no physical contact. Words
     would have to do.
    It took a while for him to know for sure that she understood him. At first she wouldn’t reply in any way, evading even his
     eyes by closing her own and keeping them that way.So he asked her to nod if she agreed that her name was Jesica… that she was from Madrid… that she was sixteen years old. With
     each question that followed, her head moved a touch more surely on the pillow. Then, when he asked her to confirm her father’s
     name, her eyes flickered open again, narrowly, tears welling along the lids, and she mouthed her first words. So indistinct,
     so full of fear, that he could barely catch them.
    ‘
Dónde está
…
dónde está mi padre?
’
    A little girl looking for her daddy.
    Mulcahy didn’t want to destroy what little trust he’d built up, so he said he was sure her father was on his way. That seemed
     to reassure her. He then looked over at Brogan, whose expression left no doubt of her frustration at being left out of the
     loop. He nodded encouragingly at her, but said nothing. He wanted to broach the main issue with Jesica without breaking the
     mood. So he turned back to the girl and asked what had happened to her.
    ‘
Fuiste asaltada?
’ Had someone attacked her?
    She turned away, her swollen eyelids blinking as rapidly as they could, as if trying to fend off some terrible thought. Then
     she nodded. It was a tiny movement, replete with emotion.
    ‘What’re you saying to her?’ Brogan whispered, plucking at his sleeve. He mouthed at her to wait a second, then turned back
     to face Jesica. The girl looked more uncertain than ever, glancing up,