He was six foot tall and gangly. His family had disowned him at twelve, yet somehow he’d survived on the streets until David caught him taking leftovers from the bins. He spent his days walking mile after mile along the Dudley canal routes. Dougie wasn’t an official resident of the foundation because he’d never been in prison, but David had stated that his room was for life.
Alex found him repulsive but she hid it well and tolerated him following her around like a lovesick puppy. One never knew when such adoration would be useful.
‘Let me see Shane first. I need to get him to calm down.’
David opened the door to the den. Two residents flanked Shane, who was leaning forward, rocking on his knees.
‘Thanks, guys,’ Alex said, dismissing the minders.
Dougie stood in the open doorway with his back to her. The rules stated no female could be in a closed room with any of the occupants. He would ensure that no one entered.
She took the seat opposite. ‘Hey, Shane.’
He didn’t look up but his bruised hands clenched each other tightly.
Alex knew Shane’s story well because she’d considered him for part of her study. He was a tall, skinny lad who looked younger than his twenty-three years. From the age of five he had been sexually abused by his uncle. When he was thirteen, and a foot taller than his abuser, he had beaten him to death with his bare hands.
Physical examinations had proven Shane’s accusations of abuse to be truthful but he had been imprisoned for eight and a half years anyway. He had been released to find that his parents had moved away and left no forwarding address.
Alex debated how to handle him. What she really wanted to do was shake Shane and tell him he’d fucked up big time but she couldn’t let her annoyance with him show. She drew on her store of manufactured compassion.
‘Shane, come on, it’s me, Alex. What happened?’
She was careful not to touch him. Shane recoiled from physical contact of any kind. He remained silent.
‘You can talk to me. I’m your friend.’
Shane shook his head and Alex wanted to hit him. Being dragged out of bed to deal with a bunch of fucking misfits was bad enough, but mute misfits was trying her limited patience just a little too much.
‘Shane, if you won’t talk to me, the police …’
‘Nightmare,’ he whispered. Alex leaned forward.
‘You were having a nightmare and Malcolm woke you and you thought he was your uncle?’
Shane looked at her for the first time. His face was pale and tears streamed down his cheeks. Oh, how manly, she mused.
‘So, when you woke, you thought he’d come back to rape you some more?’
She saw him wince at the word. Payback for getting her out of bed.
He nodded.
‘Was the light on?’
‘Yes.’
As she had suspected.
‘So, after the first punch you would have known it wasn’t your uncle. You would have seen it was Malcolm. Why did you carry on hitting him?’
She knew the answer and it was now in her best interest to ensure the police were not called. Shane was so stupid he would blurt it all out – her conversations with him, his confusion. Even the smallest finger of suspicion pointing her way would be unthinkable.
He shrugged. ‘I dunno. I was thinking about stuff you said about his nieces.’
Alex recalled their chat two weeks earlier when she’d tried to explain to him that not every middle-aged male was like his uncle. She had chosen her words carefully and she recalled them word for word. ‘Take Malcolm over there, he’s a perfectly nice man. There is no proof that he’s ever interfered with his nieces. And if he had, I’m sure the authorities would know.’
Her words had been designed to elicit this exact reaction, but when it hadn’t happened within a couple of days, she’d written Shane off as a candidate as he wasn’t predictable enough.
Although a part of Alex was secretly delighted that he’d finally done what she’d wanted, it didn’t change anything; she was pissed off it had taken this long. She didn’t have time for this.
‘But if you recall, Shane. I deliberately said that Malcolm had not done anything to those little girls, to demonstrate that he was nothing like your uncle and that nice men do exist.’
The tears stopped and his face creased in confusion. ‘But you said …’ Shane couldn’t remember exactly what she’d said. ‘I kept picturing those little girls and what he’d done to them and you said the authorities would know.’ He raised tortured eyes to hers. ‘But they never knew with me.’
Alex looked away. His neediness was distasteful.
‘But then you stopped talking to me.’ He sounded lost and alone. He was right, she had spent more time with Malcolm to try and prompt a violent outburst from Shane, which it had, but much too late to be of any use to her.
‘Do you know why I stopped talking to you, Shane?’ she asked, gently.
He shook his head.
‘It’s because you are a waste of my time. You are so damaged that you will never lead a remotely normal life. There is no hope for you. The nightmares will never go away and every balding middle-aged male will be your uncle. You will never be free of him or what he did to you. No one will ever love you because you are contaminated and the torment you go through will be with you forever.’
Every last ounce of colour drained from his face. She leaned in closer. ‘And if you bother me in any way from this point on, I will speak to the parole board and instruct them that you are a danger to others and you will be returned to prison.’ She stood, towering above the gibbering wreck. God, she hated disappointment. ‘And we all know there are plenty of middle-aged men in there, don’t we, Shane?’
His head dropped and his shoulders trembled. She took his silence as complete understanding. They were done. Permanently.
She brushed past Dougie and headed to the kitchen. Most of the occupants had gone back to bed now the excitement was over. Only David and Malcolm remained, with Dougie hovering somewhere behind her.
Alex couldn’t help but be impressed at the job Shane had done on the plump, harmless victim sitting at the table. Now all she had to worry about was damage limitation. It didn’t suit her for the police to be involved. This was her playpen.
‘Oh, Malcolm …’ she said, sitting beside him. ‘You poor thing.’ She reached up and tenderly touched the swollen flesh of his face, already starting to bruise. His lip bulged with a cut to the right hand side. Alex could only imagine what he would look like in the morning.
‘He’s a damn lunatic. Needs to be locked up.’
Alex glanced at David and understood his position. A crime had been committed, but David knew that Shane could not survive being returned to prison. Alex nodded and David left the kitchen to check on Shane.
‘Look, Malcolm. You’re perfectly justified in calling the police. You’ve been terribly assaulted. It’s difficult for you to fully understand some of the other residents.’
She leaned forward slightly and Malcolm’s gaze wandered to her intended target. Malcolm had never harmed a soul in his life. Painfully shy and socially inept, he had fallen prey to an online scam with a ‘Thai woman’ who had fallen in love with him in the romantic setting of a tropical fish chat room. Many sick relatives and a bunch of money transfers later, Malcolm was broke and began embezzling from the steel company for which he was an accountant.
He had served only two years, and although he hadn’t had much before, he was now starting from scratch. At fifty-one years old, he had no wife, no children, no home and no profession.
Alex coated her voice in saccharin and leaned forward another two inches.
‘You have to remember, Malcolm. You’re not like these people. You are an educated, professional man with a lot to offer. You’ve been hurt terribly but you are not permanently damaged. These pathetic creatures deserve your pity. They will never have an ounce of your intelligence.’
Alex re-crossed her l
egs and brushed his knee with hers.
‘But he should be held accountable …’ he said weakly and Alex knew she had it in the bag.
‘And he will. I think you need to take the action that is right for you. Do what will make you feel better, but it’s only fair that you understand that Shane will be returned to prison and he will never come out again. I don’t want you to have that on your conscience if you are acting in the heat of the moment. Once you make that call you won’t be able to take it back.’
Alex took a deep breath so her breasts rose and fell. The core of decency he now fought was the very reason she had ruled him out as a research subject.
‘I have a suggestion if you’d like to hear it?’
Malcolm nodded but continued to look down her top. It no longer suited her to have Shane around. She didn’t want to see his pathetic little face again.
‘Well, I think it would be impossible for you both to continue living here. You shouldn’t have to be frightened of any repeat attacks. My opinion is that you leave the police out of it, as long as Shane leaves the house.’
Malcolm finally raised his face to hers. God, he was a mess. ‘But where will he …?’
‘That’s not really your concern after what he’s done to you, is it?’
‘Well … not really …’
‘So, shall I tell David your decision?’
Malcolm nodded. Too easy.
Alex leaned across and patted him lightly on the knee. The old fool blushed slightly. This poor guy had never had an orgasm with any other living, breathing being within one hundred yards of the event.
‘I think that’s the right decision, Malcolm. Now you go to bed and I’ll talk to David for you.’
Alex sighed deeply as Malcolm left and David re-entered.
‘How did it go?’
Alex blew out air. ‘Well, it took a lot of persuasion but he’s not calling the police.’
David’s face crumpled with relief. ‘Thank God. Shane is so sorry for what he’s done. He knows it was wrong and we both know that returning to prison would kill him. He really isn’t a bad kid.’
‘However, Malcolm’s one condition for not calling the police is that Shane has to leave.’
David swore under his breath.
‘I know it’s difficult and I tried to change his mind but he wouldn’t budge. I suppose you can see his point. He would be terrified.’
David shook his head. ‘I just don’t know what got into him.’
Alex shrugged. ‘That’s the problem. There’s no way to ensure it won’t happen again. You can’t guarantee Malcolm’s safety if Shane stays.’
David dropped his head into his hands.
Alex reached over and touched his bare arm. ‘There’s nothing more you can do, David.’
It was maddening that the only fault she could see in this man was his ability to empathise with the hopeless charges within his care. Just a touch of ruthlessness or a devious mind and he’d have been her perfect match.
He moved his arm beyond her reach.
‘Jesus, David, I tried my best you know,’ she snapped, smarting from the rejection. He didn’t know that she had manipulated the situation to keep the authorities away. For all she cared Shane could be thrown back in prison and abused every day of his life. Whatever her motives she had saved this situation and still this man rebuffed her.
‘I know, Alex, and I really appreciate it. I just need to figure out what I can do to help Shane.’
She stood up and brushed past him as she reached into the cupboard for two cups.
‘How’s Barry getting on, I thought he’d have been gone by now?’ she asked for the sake of conversation. One last coffee and it was goodbye. David’s indifference to her advances was the final straw. She had better ways to spend her time.
David shook his head. ‘Poor guy suffered a major setback. Heard from a friend of a friend that his ex-wife and brother got married last week. Barry’s daughter was a bridesmaid. He had a major meltdown and smashed up some stuff. He’s not ready to go yet.’
Alex felt the smile begin low in her stomach. Luckily she had turned away by the time it reached her face. She might have just been offered a reason to stay.
‘Oh dear, that’s such a shame. I’ll make the coffee and you can tell me all about it.’
ELEVEN
Kim seated herself at the spare detective’s desk. ‘Hope you all got a bit of sleep, because there won’t be any more until we make some headway on this case.’
Personally, she’d had very little herself. She had eventually drifted off, only to be woken two hours later after dreaming of little Daisy Dunn. She had often fallen asleep thinking about a case, and even more often a suspect had been the first thing she’d thought of in a morning. But the vision of Daisy had unsettled her; she’d watched her being led away, but Daisy was pulling back, refusing to go, staring back at her.
Kim shook the vision away. The case was over and it was on with the next. She had done her part and now she just had to hope it made it to court, despite the stupidity of Jenks and Whiley.
She tuned back just in time to catch a grumble from the other side of the room. It originated from Dawson’s corner.
Her eyes challenged him. He looked away.
Kim didn’t operate to a rota and their rostered working hours were viewed in an advisory capacity only. If a witness needed to be interviewed she didn’t care if it was five minutes before the end of shift. The job got done.
‘Anybody who expects dead bodies to turn up at their convenience should download a transfer form immediately. Anyone?’
Not even Bryant responded. He had a gift for knowing when not to open his mouth.
‘Okay, refresh; our victim is Allan Harris, a forty-five-year-old male who did time for rape. Got out about eighteen months ago and appears to have been clean ever since. He lives on benefits with his elderly mother and hasn’t worked a day since his release.’
‘It was a brutal rape, Guv,’ Bryant offered.
‘I know that.’ She’d read the reports and didn’t need a history lesson. The horrific injuries sustained by his victim had sickened her. Would she shed tears for his loss as a human being? No chance. Would she allow her personal feelings to affect the way she handled the case? Same response. ‘Look folks, he served his time, minimal as it was, and hasn’t blipped on the radar since. Allan Harris isn’t Gandhi and we don’t get to pick our victim. Got it?’
‘Yes, Guv.’
‘Dawson, go talk to taxi drivers, bus drivers, dog walkers and the owner of the pub. See if there was anyone who was particularly vocal about their dislike for Harris. And take Stacey with you, she could do with some air.’
Stacey was truly gifted in I.T. and had always supported the team from behind a computer screen. It was time to expose her to a little more of the outside world. The fact that Stacey looked just a little bit anxious proved to Kim she was making the right call.
Wood and Dawson rose and headed towards the door.
Dawson hung back. ‘Umm … Guv, just wanted to apologise for my crack about sleep.’
‘If I thought you meant it you’d already be on your way home.’
He nodded his understanding and headed out. Dawson was a good detective, but Kim expected more than good. She pushed them hard, believing it made them better officers. Police work didn’t come with a clock card, and any of her team who wanted nothing more than a job could piss off to McDonalds and flip burgers all day.
Bryant waited until they were out of earshot. ‘Don’t we make a good team? Your cool intelligence, my warm demeanour. Your dispassionate analysis, my ability to play nice. Your brains, my beauty.’
Kim grunted. ‘Come on, gorgeous, our press awaits.’
Kim hadn’t called a press conference. She hadn’t needed to. They’d been arriving since four in the morning.
She took a deep breath and nodded before pushing open the double doors.
Reporters and photographers stood in huddles. She
recognised a few of the locals from the Express and Star and the free papers. A Central News reporter and a BBC Midlands Today cameraman were sharing something on their mobile phones. A Sky News correspondent was busy texting.
‘Okay, gather round,’ Kim shouted. A bouquet of microphones appeared before her face and tape recorders were activated and thrust forward. God, she hated this.
She nodded at the expectant faces. ‘I’ll just hand you over to DS Bryant who will give you the details so far.’
Kim stood to the side. If Bryant was bewildered by her sudden deference he hid it well and immediately offered his sympathies to the family.
Yeah, bet Woody’s stress ball’s seeing some action now, Kim thought.
‘… Midlands Police Force will do everything within its power to bring this perpetrator to justice. Thank you for your time.’
Kim headed towards the car and Bryant followed.
‘Thanks for that, Guv,’ he grumbled, throwing a Classic Bike magazine onto the back seat.
‘Handled like a true professional, Bryant.’
‘You know Woody is gonna kill you for …’
‘Got the address?’
‘Back to the island at the bottom of Thorns Road but take a left onto Caledonia.’
‘Thanks, TomTom.’
‘Just for info, Guv. I know you didn’t bother going home last night.’
Kim said nothing.
‘About the only thing that does live in your office is a change of clothes and some toiletries.’
‘Gold star, Sherlock.’
‘Added to the fact that your mileage is the same as when we parked up last night.’
‘What the hell are you, a walking tachograph?’
‘No, I’m a detective. I notice things.’
‘Well, focus your efforts on this case and leave me the hell alone.’