15
I look at Jessica, my mind consumed with anger and frustration. Not anger at her, but anger at whoever did whatever they’ve done to her. I asked her if she’d been abused, and she didn’t say no, couldn’t say no. All she said was that it wasn’t Claude. I’m glad, because if she hadn’t told me that, I’d be on top of Claude right now, caving his head in.
Jessica and I don’t say a word, but Claude’s clearly no i***t. He can see from her bloodshot eyes what’s been happening. He’s the sort of man who can tell just by looking at a person. Whatever these two have been through, it’s enough to build that sort of deep connection.
‘Okay, so your car is outside?’ he says eventually.
‘Yes, right opposite,’ I reply.
‘Come.’ He signals with his finger for us to follow him. We leave by the front of t
