Doors Without Numbers (16 page)

“Have you made any arrests?”

“There are people currently helping us with our enquiries.”

There were groans from around the room as the media members made it obvious they wanted more. Beech held up his hand and added “I promise to keep you informed of any arrests that we make, but in the meantime, we welcome the public to bring to our attention any information on Mr Roberts that they believe will be of help.”

Hammond couldn’t believe his ears. A knot formed in his stomach. When the room had cleared, he turned to Beech.

“How could you promise that? If my suspicions are correct we may be looking at a child being exposed to public scrutiny.”

Beech looked at Hammond with a stance of superiority.

“Well, bring him in for questioning and see if you’re right. Either way, the media will find out eventually and it is better to look as if we are being as co-operative as possible. Wallace, you do your job, I’ll do mine.”

The roads had been cleared of snow during the day but DC Michael Galvin drove slowly. Hammond sat in the passenger seat feeling an inexplicable nervousness. From the moment he had received the call from the forensic team he had dreaded reaching the Taylor’s house but at the same time hoped that Thomas had returned from school. He checked his watch, it was 3.30pm, the school had finished half an hour earlier. The sooner the boy was brought in for questioning and his bike properly examined, the sooner the loose ends could be tied. For several moments, Hammond tried to think of Paul as he had been at twelve years but then forced himself to stop. He had instructed the car to arrive outside the house quietly, with the intention of being as discreet as possible, but, seeing there were no parking spaces, they were forced to double park outside the house. A uniformed officer accompanied Hammond to the front door whilst Galvin crept toward the back garden in case Thomas attempted to exit out the back door.

Mrs Taylor opened the door looking alarmed. She had obviously seen the car draw up outside the house. She ushered them into the hallway and quickly shut the door behind them. She knew from Hammond’s face that he was here on official business and it scared her into submission, her teeth bit down on her fist as she struggled to understand what the uniformed officer was telling her. Thomas appeared from the kitchen and saw Hammond. He started to smile a greeting but then stopped seeing his Mother’s fearful reaction. His eyes flicked from his mother to Hammond and then he started to run back into the kitchen. Mrs Taylor yelled his name, she was crying now, but Hammond ignored her attempts to call her son back. He moved quickly toward the kitchen door, slipping on the lino floor as he ventured his way around the door toward the back entrance that lead into the garden. He shouted for Galvin but couldn’t see him. Thomas was at the far end of the garden, piling up garden rubbish in a crude attempt to make a step enabling him to climb over the fence. He looked around as Hammond approached him with the police officer close behind. Thomas’ nose was running. His eyes large with panic. Hammond slowed to a stop, holding his arm out for the officer to do the same. The two men stood there, waiting as Thomas decided what to do. Not wanting to scare the boy, Hammond spoke quietly to Thomas, explaining that they only wanted to talk to him. He was distracted momentarily by the sound of the garden gate being forced open. Then Galvin stood there as he assessed the scene before him. But now, Thomas was crowded and he wriggled over the fence into the next door neighbour’s garden. Hammond ran to the fence, attempting to jump over it, but his arms couldn’t support his weight enough to heave himself up. He called to the police officer to pursue Thomas over the fence and exited with Galvin through the gate. They were now by the front of the house, running down New Road after Thomas who kept looking over his shoulder at his pursuers. By now Mrs Taylor had followed them out the side gate, she was shouting for her son to be left alone, but Hammond didn’t stop. He needed to talk to Thomas, if only to reassure him. Thomas veered off to the left at the end of the road, he ran alongside the main road before seizing the opportunity to run through a gap in the traffic to get to the other side. Hammond chased, his lungs were now bursting, but he couldn’t stop, he ran on the path opposite where Thomas had crossed, the slamming of his feet against the pavement made a thudding sound that filled his head, muffling the noises of chattering school children waiting at the bus stop for their ride home. Hammond looked across to where he had last seen Thomas, wanting to get across the road, but the school traffic was dense with distracted bus drivers and stressed parents wanting to get home before it became dark. He raised his hand to stop the oncoming cars as he attempted to run across but instead was met by angered horns. In the distance he heard a driver shout after him as a car swung around Hammond, not slowing, causing him to step back onto the pavement. Hammond looked over to where he had last seen Thomas, but the boy was now too far away to see. He looked to the right of him in desperation, persistently edging away from the pavement into the road. Eventually the uniformed officer stepped out into the oncoming traffic, forcing the cars to stop. Running to the junction on the other side, Hammond’s eyes frantically searched left and right until he saw Thomas heading south down Bartholomew Lane about 200 meters away. A car screeched to a stop beside Hammond, Galvin shouted at him to get inside; he clumsily vaulted over the bonnet and crashed into the passenger seat as he yelled at Galvin to drive on. Thomas’s legs were flashing stripes as he ran. By now he was so panicked, he lost all sense of caution and was dodging past oncoming cars as he overtook school children and dog walkers on the pavement. Galvin braked suddenly as he approached parked cars on the left, frustrated by the oncoming cars that refused to give way. He switched on the siren, the noise attracting attention from onlookers as they stopped what they were doing to watch the pursuit of Thomas sprinting southbound. Hammond swayed left and right bracing himself with his hands against the dashboard as Galvin sped after the boy. Hearing the sirens, Thomas turned and then lost his footing, he wobbled and fell sideways. His hands breaking his fall. Galvin pressed his foot hard on the brake to stop. Hammond exited the car. He walked over to where Thomas lay and bent down to the boy, covering him with his jacket and smoothed stray hairs from the boys face, trying his best to calm him.

Thomas eyes were red and swollen but he was no longer crying. He kept wiping his nose on the back of his hand, ignoring his mother who offered him a tissue that she had taken from the box placed beside them on the table. Hammond was doing his best to look relaxed, he was conscious of the video camera set up behind him recording the scene. DS Dunn was seated opposite to Thomas, she was asking the questions, she had a calm, almost melodic voice that made Hammond wonder if she had ever tried hypnosis on anyone.

“Thomas, do you understand why you are here?”

Thomas nodded his head, his eyes suspiciously darting from Hammond to Dunn, then his mother. The accompanying social worker sat quietly on the other side of Thomas but both officers were aware that the woman had sat forward in her seat. Hammond recognised the look of anguish in the boy’s eyes as he shifted his body further away from his mother who sat still and quiet beside her son, overwhelmed by the situation she was finding herself in. “You should have protected me.” The boy’s eyes were screaming at his mother, it was evident she heard it, maybe not in sound, but through maternal empathy, for she winced and looked down at her hands. Mrs Taylor had been warned to be quiet throughout the interview unless any questions were directed at her. She had obeyed this instruction, but only after a warning that if she did not comply, the social worker would take her place.

“Thomas, you do not have to speak to us if you do not want to, but we are hoping you will help us to understand why you lied to Detective Inspector Hammond when you said you didn’t recognise Mr Roberts.”

Thomas looked up indignantly and questioned Dunn how did she know he had lied. His voice sounded small and weak, he wasn’t a proud twelve year old anymore but a frightened boy who felt cornered.

“Thomas, we have spoken to the boys you claimed to have spent the weekend with. They denied being with you.” Dunn ignored Thomas’s answer that the boys had been lying, instead she continued to maintain eye contact with the boy in front of her.

“We know that Mr Roberts, the man in the picture Inspector Hammond showed you, used to watch the boys practise on their BMX bikes in the woods. We think he liked to watch you too. But at the weekend, you were on your own, weren’t you Thomas? Perhaps you were practising your bike stunts so you could impress the boys when you next saw them, to stop them laughing at you maybe.”

Thomas eyes widened at the last remark, his face flushed. His eyes flicked to Hammond who kept his face devoid of expression, just listening. Dunn continued, she leaned forward slightly, resting the back of her forearms on the table between them. “We have evidence that we think will prove you were with Mr Roberts at the weekend. It is only a matter of time before the Forensics team trace the evidence back to you. Why don’t you tell us everything that happened? We just want to listen to you, Thomas. We don’t want to trap you in any way. All we want is for you to tell us what happened at the weekend. You saw Mr Roberts in the woods, didn’t you?”

Dunn spoke the last sentence as a fact, rather than a question. Thomas licked his lower lip. His forehead was perspiring; his hands were being wiped repeatedly on the lap of his trousers. Hammond waited, he felt that Thomas was about to break.

“Yes.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Thomas asked for a drink, Hammond allowed Mrs Taylor to pour water from the dispenser and hand her son the filled paper cup. Thomas took it; he looked at his mother for a long time as he swallowed. It was as if he wanted to rid himself of the burden he had been carrying the last few days.

“I hurt him. Mr Roberts. I didn’t mean to, but he was crying and kept asking me to understand, he told me I should feel sorry for him. I wanted him to shut up.”

Hammond leaned forward. This was the information he had waited for, but now it was coming out of Thomas’ lips, Hammond felt an inexplicable urge to tell him not to say anything further. Instead he took over the questioning.

“Why was Mr Roberts crying Thomas?”

“I caught him...doing things to himself. I didn’t mean to, but I wanted to try the jump again so I went back along the track and saw him.”

“What kind of things was he doing?”

Mrs Taylor stifled a sob, her hand was over her mouth as she began to realise what her son had been withholding from her. All the years of nurturing her son, trying to keep him safe, making him wear hats in winter, telling him to not lick the knife at mealtimes, and this one time he had needed her protection, she hadn’t been there.

“He was having sex with himself.”

“What did you do?”

“I tried to go away without him seeing me, but instead he smiled at me and asked me to go closer towards him. He was showing me his...bits...so I shouted at him to leave me alone. I left my bike there and ran away from him.”

“What happened then?”

“I ran home, but I wanted to get my bike back. So after a while, I went back, he was there with my bike. When he saw I had come back, he said he would give me my bike if I did something for him first.”

There was a long pause. Hammond felt sick to his stomach. He had to allow Thomas to give a spontaneous account, without stopping him recalling significant details freely. Despite his wish to prompt Thomas further, he knew that the boys account had to be said in his own words without any provocation.

“What did he ask you to do Thomas?”

“Touch him...you know...there.” His hands pointed to his crotch.

“And did you?”

“No. No. I shouted at him, I called him names and tried to get my bike off him, but he held on and asked me to understand that he couldn’t help it. That it wasn’t his fault. He was crying like a baby.”

“What did you do Thomas?” Hammond spoke very quietly and gently. He could feel Mrs Taylor’s fear at what her son was about to divulge.

“I threw the bike back at him, and then I tried to get away but he kept coming towards me and begging me not to go. But I wanted to go away; I wanted him to leave me alone. I hit him.”

“What did you hit him with?”

“The wood. There was wood on the ground so I used it to hit him.”

It was past 10pm when Hammond left the station. The freezing air bit his face as he opened the door and stepped out where Mother Nature’s hostility was waiting for him. The snow had been cleared and heaped on the sides of the main roads to allow the gritters to get through, his feet crunched their way on the rock salt that had been spread across the forecourt. He checked his mobile for any missed calls and considered phoning Paul. He needed to be told that arresting Thomas had been the right thing to do. As a police officer, yes, he had completed his duty, but as a man, as a father, he knew he had condemned a young man and his mother to an uncertain future and it gnawed at his conscience with sharp, unforgiving teeth. Only a week ago, he had been ordered to back down from an investigation into an arson attack on two boys, it wouldn’t surprise him if the perpetrators would be offered a lighter sentence in exchange for giving information on the suspected drug trafficking they were involved with. In comparison, Thomas was not a cold blooded killer whom had taken pleasure in causing suffering but he would be answerable to his actions regardless of whether he believed he had acted in self defence. The injustice went against everything that Hammond believed in. It sickened him knowing that he was part of a game that ruled against the vulnerable.

Thomas was young yet he had defended himself with the rage of a grown man. This fact alone disturbed Hammond. Thomas’s account did not support the claim of self defence; he gave no indication during his statement that he had been in fear for his life. Roberts hadn’t threatened to harm Thomas; he had only tried persuasion which would have been escapable. Hammond believed that Thomas had felt fear when confronted by Graham Roberts, but what he couldn’t understand was why the boy had not simply run away and reported the incident. There was no doubt he was proud, it was evident through his persistence in trying to impress the other BMX riders despite their rejection of him. Was it possible that Graham Roberts had been killed in an act of pride? To eliminate the possibility of others knowing about Thomas’ humiliation? He wished he had more evidence to prove that Roberts had been a danger to children.