Authors: Rebecca Bradley
19
The
drive back to Nottingham was quicker than the original drive across. It
reminded me of the way childhood day-trips to the coast worked.
Memories of long impatient journeys with siblings sharing the back-seat
shifted through my mind. The sound of bickering, of who had the most
sweets, who could see the most red cars on the roads and who could see
the sea first. Always a competition. My younger sister Zoe felt the
strain to compete, never content to be the second one to do anything.
The journey out was a constant battle between us. Mum and Dad would be
worn out trying to appease us, settling into a silent wait for the trip
to be over and our energies to be used up on the beach.
The
trip back home from the family days out were, by contrast, subdued and
quiet, always faster or so it seemed, due to the lack of fighting. The
quality family time had, once again, been and gone and was no more than
a distant memory, even a few days afterwards. Especially for me.
Memories I held on to with a mixture of love, sadness and an overall
frustration. I stared out of my passenger side window, at other
motorists caught up in their own worlds. Life passing by in a haze of
grey asphalt. Now the childhood memories felt disjointed and
contaminated and I tried to push them to the back of my mind.
20
Aaron
and I managed to find George and Anne Green in the Queen's Medical
Centre with Nima and Chris. The world had now completely imploded on
them. The confirmation of death would bring a closure and conclusion to
the worry and fears keeping them awake at night. At least now, they
knew she would be returned to them. There would be a period of waiting,
for test results and if an offender was likely, her body had to be held
for a period of time for the possibility of a defence post-mortem. She
would be going home though and they could give her a funeral and a
proper goodbye. One they should never have to give, but now they could
do it and Rosie would always be close by.
I
had thought they looked fragile when I saw them last night, but today,
every last shred of anything holding them together was gone. Shadows
walked where they used to be. Fibres of people who once existed and
once loved a vibrant child they had brought into the world. I took a
deep breath and approached.
“Mr
and Mrs Green. I'm so sorry. If there is anything you need to ask me or
anything I can do for you, then please, don't hesitate to let me know.”
I waited. The Greens held on to each other, blending into one unit as
they fought to stay upright in this cruel world. Anne Green dragged her
sunken eyes across to me.
“Do you have the person who did this to our daughter, Inspector Robbins?”
My
body tensed. An involuntary reflex to a question I didn't want to
answer for these people. Not as things stood now. Knowing who the girl
in the mortuary was hadn't helped identify the killer but had served to
increase the potential suspect pool and we had no idea how she had
gotten from Norwich to Nottingham. I gathered myself and spoke.
“I'm sorry, Mrs Green,” she stood her ground, gripping the arm of her
husband, “but the investigation is new off the ground. We do have two
teams working on your daughters’ investigation though, one here and one
back in Norwich. We're working very hard to follow all leads and we're
hopeful to identify and arrest Rosie's killer.” I softened my tone and
put my hand on her arm. “Chris will be with you during the length of
the investigation and we'll be in daily contact with him.” I knew it
wasn't enough. Fishing in my pocket I pulled out a business card with
my contact details on and handed it to her, knowing as I did so, that I
was asking for trouble, giving a grieving parent direct contact
details. It was what they had Chris, their FLO, for but I couldn't help
myself. Their sorrow and pain was so raw and tangible. She took the
card, dark liver spots marking the back of her pale, shaking hand. It
was all I could offer. It was all we had. Mrs Green sank lower into the
arm of her husband, and Chris and Nima took them out of the hospital
and back home, towards a life that would never be the same again. It
was going to be a long and painful process for them and it left me with
a heavy heart.
The
incident room was a hive of activity. Extra staff had been drafted in
to help with the enquiry. This was a sign the investigation was a big
deal. Money wasn't thrown at an investigation unless it was something
that could come back and bite the force hard. We had gained a
couple of Indexers to work the HOLMES, Diane and Theresa, whom I
already knew from previous jobs we had worked. They were good at what
they did. Dave Morgan, a local intelligence officer, was working with
us full time. Dave knew the area well and knew the people, or rather,
he knew the criminals and other persons of interest who lived here. I
leaned over his shoulder as I passed his desk and saw names in boxes
and intelligence reports covering the monitor.
“We're keeping you busy then,” I commented.
“Oh yeah, with some of the nicest people out there I see,” he replied.
We had grown into a massive manhunt unit overnight and they were all under my roof.
Martin,
Sally and Ross were having five minutes, huddled in a corner with mugs
in their hands, steam rising, indicating they were freshly brewed and
my team hadn't been stood there all afternoon. I approached them. Sally
looked tired and Ross looked nervous, as though he'd been caught with
his hand in the cookie jar.
“Productive trip?” Martin asked with a relaxed ease he always had about him.
“Yes.
We made contact with some of Rosie's friends, found out she was
interested in contraception advice and had her identified by mum and
dad.”
“That's
good then,” Sally said. “Not that it's her,” she added, “just we know
what we are working now and her parents don't have to keep wondering.”
“I
knew what you meant. It is good.” I looked around at them. Martin, a
few years off retirement, relaxed and never fazed, still with his great
people instincts and drive for the job, Sally, a great detective,
always reliable, but carrying some issues I wasn't quite comfortable
with and Ross, young and keen, but maybe a bit too keen sometimes. I
knew who I was going to send to Norwich for a few weeks, or however
long it took us to identify an offender.
“Something has come out of today we need to discuss. Shall we go and grab a few chairs in my office?”
They
looked at each other then walked with me. Once seated I got straight to
the point. “We need to send someone to the Norwich side of the
investigation.” Sally was the one who dropped her head. An instant sign
she didn't want the job. It grated my nerves a little, probably because
I was tired, but she was usually the first to volunteer for something
and this was important. It was unusual for her. A good job she wasn't
the top of my list to go. “On a short term basis,” I added “to bring
the two sides of the investigation together, so neither of us misses
something crucial.”
“Martin…”
he nodded his consent before I'd even got the words out. “I'd like you
to go. It shouldn't be for too long, but it gives us eyes and ears on
the investigation over there and we need the smoothness of having one
of our own in there with it.”
“No
worries. It's a nice town, so I've heard, and as long as they don't put
me up in any old dump while I'm down there, it'll be fine.” He smiled
as he said this. I knew Martin. He'd do a good job and then he'd enjoy
the social life afterwards. A few beers with the team after a long
shift. His age didn't slow him down, he loved life and his job and he
made the most of both.
“Thanks, Martin. Get in touch with finance and sort something out you're happy with.”
He
walked out of my office with an easy smile and I caught the tail end of
a comment about peace from the wife. I'd met his wife and they had a
good relationship. No kids but a couple of unruly Labradors.
Typical of Martin to make the most of the situation, to see an upside.
He was a great guy to have on the ground but his paperwork left
something to be desired. I needed to make sure I got regular updates
from him.
21
At
her desk, Sally put her mug down, woke the monitor and logged back on.
But she just stared at whatever it was that she had last been working
on. She had let Hannah down. She could see it in her face. The
disappointment. Disappointment. It's one of the hardest of emotions to
deal with. Anger, pity, hurt, you can deal with those in some way, but
disappointment means you've been held in some previously higher regard
and you, no-one but you, did anything to lower that regard. And now
Hannah was disappointed because she hadn't volunteered to go to
Norwich. Not only had she not volunteered, but she'd made it clear she
didn't want to go.
She
was usually the first to volunteer for jobs no matter what they were.
She knew that and she knew she wasn't being a team player right now and
it grieved her that she couldn't tell them why. Would they understand
if they knew? She wasn't sure, which was why she hadn't confided in
anyone. Ross was sweet but he was young. Juvenile. If tested, he could
feel his loyalty was to his supervisors and the right thing to do in
this situation was to tell them. Martin, she could probably tell. He
was Mr calm and reasonable, so he would probably advise her to talk to
Hannah herself and she wasn't ready.
There
was no way she could go to Norwich. How could she explain it to Tom? A
normally placid guy, but he was losing patience lately and they had
been butting heads. If Martin hadn't volunteered and she'd been chosen
for the job she might have had to come clean and that was the last
thing she wanted to do. Not yet anyway. She still had some time. Time
to work things out before speaking to the bosses.
22
A
couple of hours later, after answering and dealing with a ridiculous
amount of emails, sending one in particular to Evie requesting she
research the social networking sites for any sign of Rosie, I left the
office and went home.
My
apartment was as I'd left it: A cup face-down on the drainer, local
papers across the small wooden coffee table along with a book I was
reading. I pulled the stopper from the bottle of red, already
opened on the kitchen worktop, and poured a generous sized glass. In my
bedroom, I stripped, pulled on my lazy jerseys and then sat on the sofa
with my knees up. The day drained away as I relaxed. The last couple of
days seemed to have merged into one long one, but this was usual on the
first few days of a murder enquiry. I took a deep slug of red and
dropped my head, resting it on the back of the sofa. Tucking my feet
under myself I lay quiet for a while, the glass I was holding resting
on the arm of the sofa.
Time
slipped silently past and the tension started to ease. The doorbell
chime broke into the peace. Tinkling like broken glass. High and tight.
I took another glug of wine before putting it down on the table and
walked to the door. Ethan's head and shoulders were pixelated in the
security monitor. I buzzed him in.
“Hey.”
He paused before walking in. I ran a hand through my hair. I knew I
looked like shit but he didn't comment, instead he took hold of me by
my shoulders and pulled me towards him, his finger ends tight in my
back. I couldn't help it, no matter how mad I was with him; I loved the
feel of him around me and now seemed like a great time to succumb to
that feeling. I allowed myself to be propelled forward and let my head
rest on his chest. I breathed in his scent. Fresh and soapy. Clean. His
arms were strong around me, his face touched the top of my head and I
heard him breathe deep.
“Ethan, it's been rough.”
His
arms wrapped around my back, one hand held my head and he pulled me
closer still. I felt him against me. I shifted my weight into him.
“I've
missed you, Han.” His voice caught in his throat as he murmured into my
hair. Something stirred inside me and I turned my face up to him, his
lips parting. There was a lingering taste of mint. His breath warm. I
raised myself up on my toes to meet his need. I felt the soft jersey of
my tee slide across my skin as it was pulled from around my waist and
over my head. My hands clamoured to be free as they caught in the
material. I shook with excitement. A deep need throbbing inside. I
pulled at his t-shirt, desperate to remove it from him, to feel his
naked flesh against mine. Our feet tripping as we side stepped towards
the bedroom, mouths locked together in a deep hunger. My breath came
thick and fast. I needed to feel his warmth, his hard body with mine. I
needed to fill the chasm that had opened within me and I needed Ethan.
His mouth found the curve in my neck, his kisses deep and urgent. I had
never needed him more. A sound escaped from my lips. He moved and
silenced me with his mouth on mine again. Reaching down for his belt,
my hands worked the buckle and pulled it loose. We fell on the bed. We
made love as though we had been apart for so long, desperately craving
and desperately pushing for what we needed.
Resting in the crook of his arm, I turned my face towards Ethan as he lay open and relaxed. “Why are you here?” I asked.
“Why? What's wrong?”
“Us. This.” I waved an armed over our tangled bodies. “I don't know...” the sentence trailed off.
“We're good together, can't we go with it?”
The
needy girlfriend? Is that what I was to become. I wasn't that person.
Pulling myself up and out of his arms, I got out of bed and placed bare
feet onto cold wooden flooring, padded over to where I left my wine in
the living room, grabbed another glass and the bottle from the kitchen
and returned. I filled the fresh glass for Ethan and passed it to him,
leaving the bottle on the worn antique pine drawers near the door.
“Thanks.”
I drank before speaking. “Sometimes I need to be able to reach out to you, you know.” I paused. “When it's tough.”
“I'm
sorry about the other day, busy myself, you kind of cut me off when I
did call, so I figured you wanted to get on with your case.” He drank.
I had cut him off. “How's it going?”
I
shouldn't talk to Ethan about the cases I was working, but at times,
I'd seen him access more information than I had and a lot quicker. As
police, we could find evidence, forensics, but with Ethan, people were
willing to talk to him, people who wouldn't give a cop the time of day,
so on this premise, I decided to see if we could talk about it. And try
and do it without landing either of us in the shit.
“You've heard about the murdered girl?” I started.
“Of course, though your press office is being tight lipped about it.”
“I
know. The top brass are worried about the headlines if we don't
identify and arrest an offender within a couple of days. Children are a
completely different arena. People get anxious, they clamour for
justice, they want to know whose fault it is, how it happened, and they
worry about their kids. It's tough.”
“So what
is
happening?”
Pushing
myself further on the bed I rested back against the slatted headboard,
knees bent. “If I talk to you about this, in return you give me what
you've got before going to print?”
“You know it's how I work, I need a good angle to run a story, not just what your media liaison sees fit to share.”
I
nodded. He smiled and leaned closer in to me. A smile that earned
trust. A smile that was practised maybe. I relented. We needed help
with this and I was willing to take what I could get. No one else
should have to suffer as Rosie Green had and no parent should have to
live through it as George and Anne Green were. An image of the light
fading from their eyes flashed in front of me. I was right to go with
this, with Ethan. I'd sort any crap that came from it later. I took a
deep breath.
“OK.
We know the scene we found the girl in was a dump site, not the
original crime scene. We've had the official identification today and
she's a teenager from another force area. It's a strange one Ethan,
I've no idea how she ended up here, forensics won't start coming back
for a couple of days and friends of the girl don't appear to know much.
The info about the dump site and crime scene isn't in the public domain
yet,” I concluded. “Now you have to give me what you've got.” I took
another drink of the red as I waited on Ethan.
He
sighed. “The angle is the girl herself. I'd already started to have my
own suspicions about her not being local as everyone I've spoken with
has drawn a blank on who it could be. We're waiting for you to release
her photo so we can talk to more people. Now that group of people we
need to talk to will be further afield, but she was still found here,
so someone here must know who she is. When is her photograph being
released?”
“Parents
have been up today and identified her. Grey was sorting out the press
release with Claire as I left the office. I want you to contact me if
you get anything useful, Ethan.” I looked at him, narrowing my eyes,
letting him know I was serious. “This one, as I've already said, is
sensitive, you can't go barging in and printing details we don't want
releasing.”
Ethan dropped his chin and raised his eyes at me. “Han?”
“OK,
but take it easy.” He needed to be sensitive to our case. To my case.
This was important. I worried what would happen if there was a choice
between his career and mine. We weren't in what either of us would call
a settled relationship; I think we just established that. We rarely
spoke about the serious issues or about how we were feeling and I was
as guilty of this as he was. It was easier to take the ride. There was
a closeness though, something there, but I struggled with the issue of
trust. It was something that needed to be worked through.
The
last of the wine was drained and I lay back on the bed and looked at
Ethan. His arms were crossed behind his head, a relaxed stance,
comfortable. A body language of trust. I needed to trust him, I was
starting to care. I nudged my head back into the crook of his arm and
closed my eyes. Images danced in front of them. Distorted
children with trash and hospital mortuaries. All blending together.