Page 93 of The Memory Wood

‘The items scattered beneath the window look to me like they came from that box. Am I right?’

‘I think … Some of them, yes.’

‘The chess piece?’

I freeze. For whatever reason, I hadn’t noticed the queen, made of Brazilian rosewood, lying at the foot of my bed.

‘Kyle, do you recognize the chess piece?’

She’s good, this detective. She gets me to admit things, even with my mouth closed. Silence, in this room, could be my worst enemy. ‘Yes,’ I say, plucking blindly at answers, hoping that inspiration will strike and offer me a way out.

‘Where did you get it?’

‘A friend.’

‘A friend gave it to you?’

‘Yes. No. I don’t know.’

‘You don’t know?’

‘I … I can’t remember.’

‘What about the vest? The girl’s vest, lying right next to it. Did a friend give you that too?’

‘I can’t … I don’t recognize the vest.’

‘It was in your bedroom.’

‘I don’t recognize it.’

She nods. ‘What about the child’s glasses? Do you recognize them?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘You see the diary, lying beside the glasses?’

‘You mean the book?’

‘It’s a diary, but I agree it looks a bit like a book. Do you recognize it?’

‘No.’

‘Here’s a close-up of the cover. We’ll call this AR3. Can you do me a favour and read out the name on the front cover?’

‘Now?’

‘Yes, please.’

‘Bryony Taylor.’

‘Do you know Bryony Taylor?’

‘No.’

‘Did you know she went missing?’

‘I didn’t.’

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