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‘No,’ said Reaney automatically. Then, ‘I dunno. ’Ow the fuck would I know?’
Strike turned a page in his notebook.
‘Did you ever see guns when you were at Chapman Farm?’
‘No.’
‘You sure about that?’
‘Yeah, ’course I’m fucking sure.’
‘You didn’t take guns there?’
‘No I fucking didn’t. ’Oo says I did?’
‘Were livestock slaughtered at the farm?’
‘Wha’?’
‘Did church members personally wring chickens’ necks? Slaughter pigs?’
‘Chickens, yeah,’ said Reaney. ‘Not the pigs. They wen’ to the abattoir.’
‘Did you ever witness anyone killing an animal with a hatchet?’
‘No.’
‘Ever hide a hatchet in a tree in the woods?’
‘The fuck you tryin’ to pin on me?’ snarled Reaney, now openly aggressive. ‘Wha’re you up to?’
‘I’m trying to find out why there was a hatchet hidden in a tree.’
‘I don’ fuckin’ know. Why would I know? Give a dog a bad name, is it? First guns and now you’re tryna pin a fuckin’ hatchet on me? I never killed nobody at Chapman Farm, if that’s what you’re fuckin’—’
Out of the corner of his eye, Strike saw the large black prisoner watching Reaney shift in his seat. Reaney appeared to sense the larger man’s scrutiny, because he broke off again, though he found it harder to contain his agitation, fidgeting in his seat, blinking furiously.
‘You seem upset,’ said Strike, watching him.
‘Fuckin’ upset?’ snarled Reaney. ‘You come in ’ere sayin’ I fuckin’ killed—’
‘I never mentioned killing anyone. I asked about livestock being slaughtered.’
‘I never fuckin’ – stuff at that farm – you weren’ there. You don’ fuckin’ know what went on.’
‘The point of this interview is to find out what went on.’
‘What ’appened in there, what you were made to do, it plays on your fuckin’ mind, that’s why I still ’ave fuckin’ nightmares, but I never killed nobody, all right? An’ I don’ know nuffin’ about no fuckin’ hatchet,’ Reaney added, although he looked away from Strike as he said it, those hard-blinking eyes roaming over the visitors’ room as though seeking safe haven.
‘What d’you mean by “what you were made to do”?’
Reaney was chewing the inside of his cheek again. Finally he looked back at Strike and said forcefully,
‘Ev’ryone ’ad to do stuff we didn’ wanna do.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like all of it.’
