Shallow Waters (17 page)

55

The
toilet bowl smelled pretty much as you'd expect a toilet to smell after
a day of workers had passed through. My insides heaved hard against
themselves. Great big angry spasms. I clung to the edge of the bowl and
dropped to my knees as my energy seeped away. The hair I'd tied back
fell forward and rested on my cheek.

I
knew we had him now. We'd taken an evil from the streets, but was this
job taking something from me? Why did I choose to put myself down here
with the pit of humanity? Who exactly was I saving? The kids? We would
never be able to work hard enough to remove this scourge. No matter
what we did they would always exist to prey on the young and
vulnerable. The internet had created a perfect space for a predator’s
playground. A place to both meet the vulnerable and to meet others to
share the filth. There was no way we could get on top of it. Did I
really make a difference or was this all just to bolster my own
flailing self-esteem? An honest question
that
shook me down even further and I slipped from my knees, down to my
bottom as the heaving subsided. I rested back on to the wall of the
toilet stall, tears from retching drying on my cheeks. I didn't have an
answer, just a feeling of weariness. A feeling that it was all a
pointless exercise and I wasn't able to help anyone. As my head dropped
down towards my knees I closed my eyes. An image flashed before me. The
girl in the cage, eyes downcast. A reason. A reason to drag myself from
the toilet floor and keep going. A child locked in a cage and we were
close to getting answers, to finding her and recovering her from a
living hell. Whatever the reason I or any cop puts themselves through
this, there is a definite purpose. I picked myself up.

The
interview continued. I'd splashed freezing water from the tap over my
face and armed myself with a fresh cup of green tea. Aaron sat
steadfastly unperturbed, his tie and his back straight. Benn's
solicitor looked as tired as I felt. She'd made no attempt to stop his
free flowing verbal account. She sat in silence as he let it all go.

When
he dried up I  plugged the laptop into the socket in the wall.
Benn's eyes widened and his body pushed back into his chair. An
automatic response of flight without the ability to go anywhere. He had
thought he understood what we'd found but I doubted he wanted to be
confronted with it. His solicitor gave me a tired questioning look I
interpreted as “
what more?”
I
pressed the power button and the screen loaded. Inputting the password
I turned the screen so Benn and Miss Selby could see it. Then I opened
the file on the desktop. It loaded with the image of the girl in the
cage.

“Who is this?” I asked.

Finally
he understood. The realisation that we wanted to know who his fellow
offenders were dawned. I watched several emotions play out across his
face as he looked from the image to Aaron and I, then to his solicitor.
She looked back at him with no answers and nowhere to go. “I don't
know. Really I don't.” The pleading tone again. The need for us to
believe him, as though it would make the process easier for him.

“Where is she, Colin?” I wasn't about to let him escape this one.

He wriggled in his seat. His face flushed. “I don't know. They never tell me anything. I swear to God they don't.”

Something
in me believed him but I needed to know. We needed to progress this.
“The photograph was taken two days ago. This child was alive two days
ago. You expect me to believe you don't know where she is?”

“If I knew I'd tell you. I've told you everything else haven't I?” he whined.

I
pushed him further and harder. He refused to give up his instant
messaging username or those of the others in his group. He held his
ground and then he wept for Allison.

56

Sally
perched on the end of the bed absently crinkling the fabric of the
duvet cover between her fingers. She had been released from the
hospital a day earlier than expected but nerves were eating at her. Tom
paced like a tiger stalking his prey. The confines of the room in their
suburban semi restricted his strides and made the pacing erratic. It
made her anxious. She understood his reasons. She even knew he was
right. But she felt driven to return to work on full duties and that
meant keeping the pregnancy a secret. 

                 
She'd received a call from Ross earlier in the day. He'd phoned to tell
her they'd made an arrest. He was ecstatic and thought Sally would be
pleased. Instead she was hurt and angry. She'd told Ross she was
thrilled and was excited about returning to work, at which point he'd
remembered to ask how she was. Sally told him she was fine and couldn't
wait to be back. It was true, she couldn't wait, but she had wanted to
be there when they brought him in. She had wanted to look in his face
when he knew he'd been caught. She had wanted the buzz of the incident
room and to have had a part to play in such a large and now, it would
seem, successful operation. The difficulty was getting Tom to
understand any of this. He wasn't a cop. He didn't understand the drive
to bring serious offenders in. He thought he understood the horror of
the offences, but she knew she would never be able to convey the
emotion involved. Tonight she had to try. She had to convince him she
knew what she was doing. Enough for him to acquiesce to her return to
work with his blessing, and return with full duties. Just until this
job was finalised. 

“Tom?”

“What
do you want me to say, Sally? That it's okay to go back to work and not
tell a soul you're pregnant. To be around disgusting, filthy paedophile
bastards with my baby and it be okay?”

Sally sighed quietly to herself.

“It's only short term, Tom. Until this job is finished. He's not going anywhere and I won't be alone with him.”

“But
I worry about you, don't you get it? I worry about you, both of you.
You should be taking some time off after the explosion.”

“The doctor said I was fine. We got thrown about, but the baby is fine. You heard him say so yourself. He's fine.”

“He?” The pacing faltered.

“Well I hate the word, it, and we're not far enough along to know. He just feels like a he.”

She
smiled. Tom looked at her. From her eyes to her still flat belly where
her hand rested. He sat beside her, took her hand from where it rested
and replaced it with his. Hope swelled inside her. She needed him to
understand.

“Sally,
I don't want you to go to work, full stop, never mind full duties, with
no one knowing you need to be protected. Why can't you see that?”

She
stood quickly; his hand dropped away. “I would never do anything to
hurt our baby. Trust me. The investigation is based in the bloody
building, for God's sake.” She couldn't help but raise her voice. “What
do you think is going to happen in there? You're being ridiculous!”
Anger and frustration pushed forward words she knew they would both
regret tomorrow. She gulped hard and continued. “I'm going back to
work, Tom. You're not my keeper; I don't need your permission. It's my
body and I'm the one carrying the baby. It's safe. I'm not stupid. Just
give it a rest.”

Tom
rose just as rapidly. “All you care about is that fucking job. You're a
reckless idiot. What about us? Your family? Me and the baby?”

“It's
not about me. I love you. I love our baby. I want to be in at the end
of this job and then that's it. Grounded to the nick, making people tea
and shuffling sodding paperwork around.”

“Do
as you please, but do not come to me if something goes wrong.” Tom
hissed before he walked out the door.  She was wound up and
frustrated. She wouldn't be able to sleep tonight and she was going
back to work in the morning.

57

Colin
Benn was charged with the rape and murder of Rosie Green and Allison
Kirk and the attempted murder of Natalie Kirk by arson at eleven-twelve
p.m. It had taken no time at all to get a CPS lawyer to sign off on the
charges. There was still a considerable amount of work to do but with
Benn charged, we could keep him off the streets while we continued to
gather and process the evidence from crime scenes. He had nothing to
say when charged. His solicitor was long gone as there was nothing
further she could do at this point. He would need his legal
representation again in the morning when he would be put before a court
with a remand application, but for tonight, we were done. He looked at
the floor, his shoulders sagging. The weight may have lifted from him
in the telling, but now he had to face a future very different to the
one he had imagined for himself. His future now held court rooms,
uniformed guards, handcuffs and isolation from prison inmates due to
his crimes.

I
drove home barely taking in the red lights or junctions I came across.
I was glad the day was over. The sense of joy and pride usually
associated with charging an offender was marred by the real loss of two
young girls whom I had never met.

I'd
put a call into Martin, who was in the pub getting a round of drinks in
when his phone rang. We talked for a while, the light hearted banter of
a local public house in the background, until it became too distracting
and Martin stepped outside. He said he would visit the Green family
with Chris in the morning and update them. A family already torn apart
by the death of a child, now to be told of the circumstances of her
death. It couldn't be avoided. It would all come out in court. They had
to be told.

I
thought of Natalie. Of how I couldn't inform her of events. The
hospital had said there was no change when I called. She would never
win a mother of the year award. She gave the impression all she cared
about was the money, but I'd seen a hint of something more. A deep
rooted remorse for the knowledge she'd let her child down. She may have
even known on some level, what was happening with Benn and her way of
dealing with it was to hide even deeper within the bottle.

I heard screeching and car horns as I failed to notice another red light in time. I could do with a drink myself.

The
wine slid down easily. I poured myself another, carried it into the
bathroom and turned the shower on. I discarded my clothes, downed the
contents of the glass and stepped in, turning the heat up as far as I
could bear it. Then a little bit further.

Benn
had failed to tell us who the others were in the group. He clammed up
and wouldn't answer any further questions. His solicitor informed us
her client had said enough for us to charge him and he would not be
providing any further information. I'm not sure I've hated anyone quite
as vehemently as I did his solicitor at that point. Benn and other scum
like him were nasty, evil beings who deserved anything and everything
that came to them, but her, she was, debatably, a hard-working normal
functioning member of society, yet here she was defending this bastard.
After hearing all he had done and what he had been involved with, she
had stood up for his right not to answer questions, questions that
could help identify and save another child. I lifted my face to the
water and closed my eyes. Hot shards pricked at my skin. At the still
swollen, tender wounds from the blast. The water stripped the entire
day away from me. I stood and allowed it to cleanse me.

Eventually
I stepped out, dragged the towel from the rail and wrapped it around
myself before taking my empty glass back into the kitchen and pouring
another.

I
remembered Dad had called me a couple of days ago. I took my phone from
my coat pocket and sank down to the floor in front of the sofa to dial
his number.  He picked it up on the third ring. I took a gulp of
wine before speaking. “Dad. It's me.”

“Hannah?” he mumbled, and I realised how late it was.

“Yeah, Dad. Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.”

“Are you okay?”

“I'm fine,” I lied. “I missed your call a couple of days ago. I'm sorry.” Why was I always apologising when I spoke with him?

“Oh.
Okay. I was up early and saw the news about the girl and presumed you'd
be there and up so I thought I'd call.” A pause. I waited. “Zoe sent a
VO for you, I've got...”

“No,
Dad.” I snapped. “I won't visit her in prison. She made her choices.” A
wave of guilt washed over me. He'd been lost since mum died. Then with
Zoe.

“I just wish...”

“I know. It confuses things with my job, you know.”

“She's your sister.”

“Yeah.”

Silence.
I could hear him breathing down the phone. I drank from the glass
again. An awkward silence. Unspoken thoughts running simultaneously
through our minds.

“Why don't you come over on Sunday, I'll cook you dinner?”

I took another long drink, emptying the glass. “I'll probably be at work Sunday. It's a big case.”

“Your next day off then? Sunday roast, mid-week. I can do that.”

“Of
course. I'll let you know when it is. I'm sorry if I woke you.” The
glass chinked on the floor as I put it down a little too hard.

“It's okay. I like to hear from you,” he murmured, his mind following other conversations from times gone past.

“Goodnight, Dad.”

“Goodnight,
Hannah.” The buzz in my ear confirmed he had gone. I sighed and dropped
my head back onto the seat of the sofa. I missed Mum, but even she
would have problems trying to resolve the issues created by my sister.