The Disappearance in Liverstone

CHAPTER 7

(DISCLAIMER: This chapter does have a lot of swear words)

Timothy Baker Recorded Interview

Date: 07/01/2016

Duration: 3 minutes 

Police: For the record, this interview is being recorded. The date today is the 7th of January 2016 and it is 7:47pm. My name is *BLOCKED* and I am interviewing Timothy Baker along side *BLOCKED* at *BLOCKED*. Let's start. Please state your full name. 

TB: Okay. Like, middle name too? 

Police: Yes please.

TB: Timothy Peter Baker.

Police: Can you please state your birthday. 

TB: Sure. 17th of June 1993. 

Police: So, Timothy, let me just give you some information for this interview. You can ask us to stop at any point in the interview. We are interviewing you as a suspect for murdering 12 children. 

TB: But *BLOCKED*, how many times do I need to fucking say this? I didn't kill 12 children. 

Police: Sir, the less you disrupt us, the quicker we get through this. Anyway, did you know any of the children personally?

TB: For fucks sake. Not really. The only children I know is my nephew and his friend. And his friend was killed.  

Police: Can you please stop swearing. It is immature and this is serious stuff. But please. *long pause* Just say it, will you? We all know you did it. Stop trying to lie, Timothy Baker. You'll feel better after you say it. 

TB: Say what? I didn't fucking kill them!

Police: Come on, Timothy. I know you are lying. I can see the guilt in your eyes. It's eating you up inside. Just say it. Just say the words "I killed them." That's all you need. 

TB: No! I didn't kill them. I didn't know them. 

Police: HA! Caught you in lie! Your nephew's friend, Ryan Johnson, he was murdered by the Glass Killer.

TB: Yeah, well. I meant I didn't know the other kids. Why are you interviewing me now? I've been at the pub. 

Police: Did you like Ryan? Did you want to kidnap him? 

TB: No! I wouldn't want to kidnap a fucking 10-year-old. I'm not a fucking psychopath. Now, can I just go home! I am drunk and feel faint. I want home. 

Police: We will let you go, when you stop lying. I know you've done it ,*BLOCKED* knows you've done it. Even *BLOCKED* know you killed those innocent children. Everyone knows Timothy, now just say it. 

TB: How many times do I need to say this? I didn't kill 12 children!

Police: JUST SAY IT, TIMOTHY!

TB: God, why are you shouting at me *BLOCKED*? I'm telling the motherfucking truth!

Police: Say it! 

TB: Fine, but just know that this, is a lie.

Police: Go on! 

TB: Since you have forced this out of me, I will say a lie! I did kill the 12 children. Just know, that was a fucking lie you pulled out of me *BLOCKED*!

Maeve listened to the interview. Pure shock. But, she felt something in her change her mind. What if Timothy Baker wasn't guilty? If Maeve wanted to tell the town he wasn't, she had the proof. All in a 3 minute interview that could be accessed by anyone. Even though every other sentence included a swear word, Timothy could really change someone's mind. But, there was no one else it could be. No one else could kill 12 children. In Maeve's mind, the police tried to frame Timothy. The police tried to force potential lies out of him for evidence. Could Maeve say her thoughts in her assignment? They'd be controversial, but she could try. 

****

Maeve checked the time, half asleep. 11:28am. It was Saturday, so she didn't care what time she had to wake up. Maeve slowly made her way downstairs so she could see her family.

"Hello stranger!" Maeve's mum said as Maeve walked past the conservatory door. Maeve walked backwards so she could see her mum in the conservatory. Her mum was sitting side-ways on the sofa, looking out into the back garden. "What are you doing?" Maeve asked, leaning against the doorway. "Bird-watching. Have you seriously just woken up?" Maeve's mum glanced at Maeve, then at the garden, then back at Maeve. "Yes, I have. Where's dad and James?" Maeve asked, walking towards her mum. Maeve sat herself down on the sofa next to her mum's feet. "Dad's had to go into the office for an inspection and James is upstairs." Maeve shuffled over the sofa a bit and swung her feet onto the sofa. "Ah okay." Maeve sighed and looked out the window. "You better go get something to eat." Maeve's mum said, patting Maeve's feet. Maeve swung her feet back off the sofa and walked into the kitchen. 

Maeve stared endlessly at the food in the fridge. What does she fancy? Maeve put her arm into the fridge. Her arm hovered inside the fridge. Maeve ended up closing the door and opening the cupboard of canned foods. Beans? Pot Noodles? Tuna? Soup? Yeah, soup. Maeve grabbed a can of Heinz Tomato Soup. Opening the can, she poured it into a deep pan and pressed the stove on. Maeve stood next to the pan as she patiently waited for it to cook. "What are you having?" James said, walking into the kitchen. "Tomato soup." James walked past Maeve and opened the cupboard of cups. "What are you doing?" Maeve asked, watching her brother get a cup. "Getting a glass of water. Isn't that so obvious!" "Well yeah, but are you not getting anything else?" Maeve's brother walked out the room before he could reply. Maeve looked at the clock on the wall, her soup was ready. 

Maeve placed the bowl of hot soup on the breakfast bar. She climbed onto the seat and took a big mouth full of soup. "Aah! Burnt my mouth!" Maeve said as she gasped for air. She took a large gulp of water to sooth the burning. 

Mae sat upstairs in her room, writing notes of Kathrine Klark's transcript. She was home alone. Her mum was at James' football and her dad still wasn't home yet. As Maeve clicked off of the document, she heard the doorbell ring. She wasn't expecting anyone. Maeve left her laptop opened and ran downstairs. Maeve looked through the long panel of glass next to the door. Maeve unlocked the door. Ella's mum, Fiona, was standing on the step, sobbing and tears racing down her cheeks.