My Bloody Valentine (Alastair Gunn) (30 page)

Hawkins exchanged glances with Maguire before asking, ‘Is it possible that Brendan Marsh didn’t rape Sam?’

Watts’ frown deepened. ‘No.’

‘You seem very certain. Last time, you said Sam lied about lots of things. How do you know she wasn’t lying about this?’

‘She just wasn’t, okay? I knew Sam. I knew when she was telling the truth. She wouldn’t have lied about that.’ There were tears in her eyes.

‘All right.’ Hawkins paused, letting Watts recover, hiding her frustration. For her theory to work, Brendan Marsh needed to be innocent, too, although Watts’ reaction said she really did believe he was guilty. Plus, the teacher’s prior criminal record suggested she was right. But the theory still made enough sense that it was worth another try.

‘Okay, Nicola,’ she said, ‘let’s go over what happened after the rape. Can you do that?’

Watts wiped her face and sniffed. ‘Yeah.’

Gently,
Watts sat down, as Hawkins tried to block out the discomfort she felt after standing for the best part of thirty minutes. Despite three days of extra rest, her body still wasn’t back to normal. Luckily, Watts was talking again, distracting her.

‘Sam came straight to me after it happened. It was late on a school night, but she couldn’t go home; her mum died a few years before, and she couldn’t tell her dad. I tried to convince her to go to the cops, but she was too upset. She didn’t come back to school for a long time after that, and I didn’t see her much. The school contacted her dad, but he didn’t do anything. He’s a bit of a waster.’

‘Neither of you told anyone else?’

‘No. She swore me to secrecy, so I didn’t say a word. And neither did she until the trial, though it all came out then.’

‘
Everything?
’

There was a pause before Watts nodded.

‘When did Sam start abusing drink and drugs?’

‘Soon after the rape. She was never into any of that before.’

‘And that’s when she started sleeping around?’

‘Yes.’

Hawkins chose her words carefully. ‘So, if she slept around after the attack, and flirted with guys before it happened, how can you be sure she wasn’t in a relationship with Marsh?’

She must have hit a nerve, because suddenly Watts
looked up. ‘She wasn’t – I’d have known. We were best friends. Best friends know.’

Hawkins pressed. ‘Could Sam have
wanted
a relationship with him?’

Watts’ face became still and she stared straight at Hawkins. She spoke quietly. ‘What are you suggesting?’

It was all or nothing now. Hawkins went for it. ‘Is it possible that he turned her down and she didn’t like it?’

‘How dare you?’ Watts was back on her feet. ‘Sam wasn’t like that. All right, she flirted, but she didn’t really understand what it meant. She was a virgin when he raped her.’

Hawkins knew she had Watts on the edge. ‘But Sam didn’t see a doctor afterwards. How do you know the rape even happened?’

‘Because that bastard got her pregnant, okay?’ Watts was shouting now. ‘And if you’re interested in how I know that, I was the one who held her hand while she had the fucking abortion.’

Hawkins thanked Gwen as she exited the charity shop with Maguire, as fast as protesting abdominal muscles would allow, keen not to engage the woman who would shortly be picking up the pieces of their heated exchange. The shopkeeper’s subdued response suggested that she’d heard enough of her friend’s shouting to know something was amiss.

A distraught Nicola Watts had just thrown them out.

Under normal circumstances, Hawkins didn’t take
orders from interviewees, especially the ones that withheld vital evidence, but she had what she’d come for, and they were short on time.

They reached the pavement, squinting in response to a heavy gust of rain-infused wind, and headed for the car. Thanks to the weather, there were still few people about.

Mike left it until they were protected by a bus stand twenty yards from the shop before he grabbed Hawkins’ arm, spinning her round. ‘What the hell was that?’

‘What the hell was
what
?’ She pulled herself free, welcoming the opportunity to sit on one of the flip-down seats.

‘Improper conduct. You bullied her.’

‘Oh, come on, as if you’ve never pushed anyone into a confession before. It’s practically the last decent tool we’ve got. And don’t tell me it’s an English thing; I’ve seen
Judge Judy
.’

Maguire looked about ready to shout, but instead he leaned closer, his tone hard. ‘You are out of control. I’m not sure you even care about stopping this killer; you just don’t want Tanner to get there first.’

Her own anger flared. ‘That’s not true.’

‘You really upset that woman, Toni, and for what? What were you trying to prove?’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, perhaps you need to focus a bit less on me and a bit more on this case.’

‘What’s
that
supposed to mean?’

‘Pushing her was the only way to get the full story.
She kept that abortion secret until now out of some misguided loyalty to her dead friend, and she’d never have volunteered it unless Sam’s integrity was at stake. I did what I had to, and now we have a whole new line of inquiry to pursue, thanks to me and my risky but justifiable ways.’

Mike’s brow contracted. ‘What new line?’

She smiled. ‘Samantha Philips had an abortion, right?’

‘Yeah. So?’

‘There’s your innocent victim.’

50

Bull checked the position of the sun. It was getting high, which meant there were only a few hours of bearable temperature left. They needed to get this done before the day really kicked in.

He followed the convoy for another mile along the dusty road before their sergeant appeared at the tailgate of the truck in front, waving them off.

‘Left here, boss,’ Cheshire said from the passenger seat.

‘I know where we’re going,’ Bull told him. ‘Don’t need you dicks to direct me.’

‘Yeah, right.’ Cheshire grinned. ‘Keep this thing on the road for more than a mile and I might believe you.’

Bull told him to piss off, even though the kid was probably right. He hadn’t felt this tired for ages. It might have been sunstroke. He hadn’t said a word, of course; the boys would crucify him, but it was hard just staying awake and they’d almost ended up in a ditch several times. He blinked hard, trying to wake himself up. He needed to be alert for what they were going to do.

They bumped off the tarmac on to a stony track, and Bull watched the other three trucks disappear round the next bend, hoping it wouldn’t be long before they re-joined their unit. In the last hour, Iraq had dropped even further into hell.

The briefing they’d been called to just after getting back from night shift had been packed: every soldier on the base was there, and a few more besides. Some general nobody knew had told them what was going on.

A series of coordinated bomb attacks had hit the previous evening, killing hundreds of people in two Yazidi Kurd villages near the northern city of Mosul. Command thought it might be the start of a major insurgent offensive, and that other soft targets like Basra might be at risk, too. They wanted everyone out on the streets as a peacekeeping force, and a show of military strength to see off other attacks.

And if you hadn’t slept for twenty hours? Tough. You’re a soldier; suck it up.

For now, British troops would stay in the south but, depending on how things went, they might have to head north to help the Americans. That meant travelling on roads they didn’t normally use, including one that hadn’t been swept for mines in weeks.

It was a short, fifty-yard cut-through across some fields, but it would save them a fifteen-minute detour on main roads if they needed to move a lot of troops at short notice. The enemy probably wouldn’t have bothered to mine anything that small, but it was best to be sure; Bull had seen what those things could do to a Snatch Land Rover.

He and Cheshire had been ordered to spend two hours sweeping the track, then to meet up with the others. Troops were spread pretty thin, so for now the two of them were on their own.

‘That it?’ Cheshire asked, pointing ahead at a stony dirt trail that split off the main track before leading up a slope towards what looked like another tarmac road.

‘Yeah.’

Bull stopped at the junction where the track began, looking in his mirrors to make sure there were no other vehicles around. The roads were empty, pale earth stretching away to the horizon in every direction, and they hadn’t passed another vehicle since leaving base.

He reached behind the seat for the mine detectors. ‘Let’s go.’

51

Mike stewed like a professional all the way to Hendon, staring ahead as he drove them back from Bethnal Green, shunning any half-hearted attempts Hawkins made at dialogue. She watched him pull into the car park at Becke House, still unsure what bothered him most, her mildly heavy-handed treatment of Nicola Watts or the fact he hadn’t realized that Sam Philips’ abortion made her responsible for the death of an innocent. He might have had a point about Hawkins’ conduct, but he also hated being caught out, almost as much as she did.

In fact, she suspected his reticence was a mixture of both, although Maguire clearly wasn’t in any mood to discuss it. He wore the default masculine expression that suggested men were easily understood at all times, and woe betide anyone who dared raise the issue.

He parked up, yanked the handbrake almost vertical and climbed out, banging the door closed. Hawkins watched with growing unease, only realizing when his midriff hovered outside the window that he was waiting to lock the car.

She counted to ten and followed, determined to stay calm, turning back to face him across the roof of their
Focus. But he’d already gone, blipping the alarm as he went.

‘Hey.’ Hawkins set off after him, determined now that this conversation was going to happen, wincing as she tried to match his pace. But she was ignored. She repeated the call, renewing her efforts, managing to catch him at the door.

‘Don’t you think you’re over-reacting just a bit?’ She grabbed his arm, making him turn. ‘Stop, please.’

Mike met her eye for the first time in half an hour. ‘Why, so I can be courtside for your next crazy stunt?’

Hawkins studied him, understanding his mood wasn’t just about that afternoon; the problem was more deeply rooted than that. Which might explain why he was so worked up.

She softened her tone. ‘What’s this really about?’

‘If I’m cramping your style, maybe I should ask for another transfer.’

‘Hold on.’ She lowered her voice as the door beside them opened and a couple of analysts came out. She ushered him away from the entrance. ‘Where’s this coming from?’

Mike waited for the two women to pass out of earshot. ‘Seriously, Toni, what’s the deal here? Because, right now, I’m no kind of partner, at work
or
at home.’

She frowned. ‘Is this about
us
?’

‘No, it’s about
you
. You obviously want this job, even though you’re still playing fast and loose with the rules. But you’ve side-lined me on every big call in this case and,
for all the attention you pay me at home, I may as well not be there.’

‘That isn’t true,’ she protested, desperately trying to come up with an example that didn’t support his argument. ‘I need you more than ever.’

‘Exactly. Need, not
want
.’ He made to leave.

She stopped him again. ‘You know I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘Then why’s your dad still talking in his sleep in
your
back room?’

‘Ah.’ She paused, realizing that, as usual where men were concerned, ultimately, it came down to sex. Not that she could blame him; since Mike’s return they’d barely held hands.

‘I know you’re frustrated,’ she soothed. ‘I am, too. But you know me: I need to find my feet, properly make DCI; plus, the whole Tanner thing is stressing me out. I’ve been distracted, but I want us to work just as much as you do.’

She watched Maguire’s scowl dissipate, capitalizing by moving in for a hug. ‘We just need to reconnect.’

Mike made a confirmatory noise and pulled her close, as Hawkins wondered whether her scars would have faded in the few days since her last unsuccessful attempt to cover them with make-up.

She was busy composing further reassurance when Mike’s pocket rang.

They parted as he found his phone and checked the screen. ‘I’d better take this.’

She
nodded. ‘So we’re okay?’

‘Yeah.’ He sighed. ‘Guess the pressure’s getting to us all. I’ll catch you upstairs.’ He moved away.

Hawkins held her pass to the scanner and entered the foyer of Becke House, thinking about the case, her footsteps echoing off the hard sixties floor tiles.

‘Antonia?’

She stopped and looked round. She’d been so lost in her thoughts she hadn’t even registered who she’d just passed in the corridor. ‘Sorry, sir, miles away.’

‘No problem.’ Vaughn took a step back towards her. ‘I was just looking for you. How’s the case?’

‘Good.’ She realized they were beside the row of quiet rooms on the ground floor and gripped the handle of the nearest door. ‘Let me update you.’

He checked his watch. ‘If we’re quick. I only came in to catch up on some paperwork, and I’m taking the wife out to dinner.’

They stepped inside the small office, which contained a circular table with two chairs, a phone and a data cable for visitors’ laptops.

He watched her close the door. ‘This must be worth hearing.’

She smiled. ‘It’s preliminary information at this stage, but it may turn out to be decisive. I was hoping to dig a little deeper before updating you, but since you asked …’

Of course, it would have made more sense to investigate how the killer could have found out about Sam
Philip’s abortion before approaching Vaughn, as that was likely to be his first question, but at least this way Hawkins secured credit for the discovery, before she told the rest of her team and, more importantly, Tanner.