Great Britain, 1920s. Eleven-year-old Oliver is the thirteenth and youngest child in a very poor family living on the outskirts of the small town of Fernwood. The boy cannot attend school because he is nearly completely blind, and he has no friends...
Thomas Young had lost count of the days he had spent in custody. During all this time, he had never received an answer to any of his questions. The boredom was terrible and exhausting, but there was nothing he could do to change it at the time.
Yes, he had broken up with Jenny and had thought about it for a long time, worried and regretted that it had happened. Everyone has their own misunderstandings in life, but is that enough reason for murder? People meet and part all the time, it has always been and will always be so.
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Most likely, they just wanted to frame him. But who would do that? Thomas didn't really have any bitter enemies, except for some local hooligans he'd had short-lived conflicts with back in his distant childhood, but who remembers that now and who would even care? Another possibility is envy. It's true, the guy was doing well and his life was going great, but probably not so well that someone would envy him. There were many more successful and promising people in Fernwood who, unlike him, no one had taken revenge on.
So what about the store? Thomas had only recently opened it and hadn't even expected such an unfortunate fall after such a long-awaited rise. He hoped only that his family would take care of the business he had just started and not let it decline at the very start — it was a pity to lose such a good enterprise.
Today he is supposed to be called in for another interrogation — Tom has also lost count of how many there have been lately. Since the moment of his arrest, the guy hasn't seen his relatives or friends even once; no one was allowed anywhere near him. But he's already managed to learn the faces and names of all the guys investigating the case.
Thomas’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Young, were quite wealthy and could afford to hire the best lawyer, who would guarantee their son’s freedom. In fact, this was the only thing the guy hoped for.
***
The room was dimly lit, the single overhead bulb casting harsh shadows on the cold, concrete walls. Tom’s wrists ached from the tightness of the handcuffs, the cold metal biting into his skin. He could hear the distant hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional drip of water echoing through the sterile corridors. His eyes, indifferent and heavy, scanned the room, taking in the worn-out furniture and the interrogator’s stern face, partially obscured by the shadows. The interrogator’s voice was a low, steady drone, each word a hammer blow to Tom’s frayed nerves.
“Why did you kill Jenny Saunders?”
This question had probably echoed in this room a hundred times already. Honestly, Tom was surprised it hadn’t yet haunted his nightmares. Although, truth be told, he hadn’t slept enough during his time in custody to have any meaningful dreams.
“And why do you think I killed her?”
“Mr. Young, we have enough reasons to believe so.”
“Isn’t there another scumbag who would make a better suspect?”
“You fit the role perfectly.”
"What the hell?"
In reality, Tom was an exemplary guy from an exemplary family, so it was completely irrational to consider him a criminal, which he was nothing like. Of course, appearances can often be deceiving, but not in this case. In his entire life, Thomas had never offended anyone and was not even remotely capable of anything like that.
"Mr. Young, I hope you haven't forgotten that you were the fiancé of the deceased."
"What the hell does that have to do with anything?"
"I'm just letting you know that, in most cases, the murderers turn out to be close relatives or acquaintances." The answer was relentless and unforgiving. Tom’s vision blurred for a moment, the edges of his consciousness fraying as he struggled to maintain his composure. The weight of the accusation bore down on him, a crushing force that threatened to break his spirit.
"Jenny has a few dozen, if not more, relatives and acquaintances!"
Honestly, Tom didn't believe his own argument. Yes, his ex had a vast circle of friends and family, but none of them seemed like potential criminals. They were no more likely to be murderers than Tom himself, and Fernwood was generally a peaceful and quiet town. Crimes were rare, but when they did happen, they would set the entire town on edge.
"Mr. Young, you should cooperate with the investigation if you don't want to make your already terrible situation even worse."
That was the end of the interrogation – just as pointless and fruitless as all the previous ones. Thomas had no idea how many more of these sessions he would have to endure. One thing was clear: things were not going his way.
