Authors: Rebecca Bradley
35
Sally
looked at the dirty ceiling from her hospital bed. She'd been here
since yesterday and she was fed up of staring at it. By contrast the
balloons and flowers that had accumulated were taking over the room
like an attack of the Triffids, no matter how much the nurses kept
telling her she couldn't bring the flowers in. Her mum knew how to go
over the top, especially where her children were concerned and it
didn't matter how old her and Alan got, she still fussed over them like
an old mother hen. Right now she was ordering her dad about, sending
him to get more chairs as there weren't enough for them to get around
the bed.
While
she understood she had to be checked out properly she itched to get
back to her home and her job. She didn't want to be away from the
investigation too long. As well as wanting to be on the inquiry, she
needed to prove herself a valuable member of the team. She planned to
take her exams and go for promotion so she would be in a position where
she would bring home a better wage, and with a child killer out there,
she was determined to be a part of the team that brought him in and
that brought justice for the families. A job like this would provide
strong evidence in the promotion process for sergeant. Evidence of her
capabilities. Promotions were tough, especially in the current economic
climate with the force shrinking in size. So for everything that might
go against her, she needed demonstratable investigative abilities in
her favour.
She
heard her dad hush her mum and then wander off in search of the chairs
which apparently were stacked at the side of the visitors' toilets near
the entrance to the ward. Her mum came back over to her and looked
down, holding her hand. This simple gesture made her feel warm and
loved. Cared for in a way she couldn't imagine was possible to feel
from such a small touch. She looked up at her mum and saw her chin
quivering but her jaw clenched up tight. “Oh mum, don't.” She gave her
mum's hand a gentle squeeze, “I'm okay, look.” Her hand was gripped
hard in return as she
watched
her mum try and hold on. “Mum?” A single tear escaped, saying a
thousand words that her mum refused to speak. Sally gave the grip back
just as hard in response. “I love you mum,” she whispered.”
The door to the room banged open as her dad pushed through it with the chair in front of him, using it as a battering ram.
“Owen!” her mum chided, still holding onto Sally.
“Sorry
love. Why bloody hospitals can't put a couple of chairs in side rooms I
don't know. Anyway, here now.” He dropped it to the floor at her side,
clattering on the hard tiles, and parked himself in the seat. “How are
you today sweetheart? Need anything else bringing in?”
“I'm
good dad. Thank you. And if you bring anything else in, I think we're
going to have to call a removal firm just to clear me out.”
He laughed. “Hey, you're right there.”
The door opened again and Tom entered. He looked tired but he smiled when he saw her. Guilt needled her at the warmth of it.
"You okay?" He asked.
"Yes,
fine. The Doctor said rest for a couple of days then I'll be fit to go
back to work. Come here." She patted the bed with her spare hand.
Tom
stopped, the smile vanished, his body tensed. She didn't want this
argument again. Her mum must have felt the tension in her hand.
“Come on Owen, let's go and grab a cuppa and come back in a bit.” She squeezed Sally's hand again.
“But we've just got here.”
“Owen.” her tone was sharp.
“Oh. Okay.” They left with smiles and promised to return after their drink.
Tom had stood waiting, his face hardening. "How many times do we need to discuss this?”
"Tom
please, let's give it a little longer, until we get a strong lead on
this case. I need in, it's important to me, to my career. I won't take
risks." She didn't want to beg, but she heard the pleading tone in her
own ears. She needed him to understand.
He
moved forward and sat on the bed taking her hand in his own, “You
didn't think it was a risk getting into a work vehicle after visiting a
victim’s mother, but look where we are Sally. Really look.” his eyes
left hers and dropped to the bed. “I love you. I love our baby." his
voice softened and he gently touched the hand which stroked her
stomach, where life was growing.
She
knew he was right, she should tell Hannah she was pregnant, but
something was stopping her. This case, the life growing inside her gave
a sense of urgency to find this killer. She couldn't tell them yet.
36
I
returned to my office and read an email from Ethan. Attached were the
press reports he'd written. There was nothing helpful, just background
on Allison that I already knew. After a briefing with the team and
talking through where we were at, I went to see to Evie. With a drink
in each hand I pushed my way through her door. Hot tea and coffee
sploshed over the rims of the cups as she launched herself at me and
threw her arms around my neck.
“Ohmigod
Hannah! I thought I'd lost you. The report. The explosion. What
happened? How are you? Why are you here? Ohmigod!”
“Evie,
breathe. I'm fine, look.” I pulled back out of her grasp keeping my
arms wide. Tiny glass fragments had torn into my skin as easily as a
knife through sun warmed butter and the slivers of injured skin shone
from my pale face. I looked dishevelled and was carrying around a
couple of suitcases under my eyes. Evie looked me up and down and
grunted.
“Fine, huh?”
“I
know.” I sighed as I stepped around her, putting the cups on her desk.
“It looks worse than it is though. A few cuts and bruises is all. I'm
fine.”
“So what happened?”
“I don't know. I've been in with Grey, who by the way, looked worse than I do,”
“Tell
me about it. You should have seen the way he looked when he knew you
were out of action and the job dropped in his lap; I don't think it was
much to do with concern for you. He doesn't want his name on the top of
an investigation this big. It's a career changer. He was shitting
himself.”
“I
can imagine. He told me the preliminary report from the fire
investigators indicates the possibility of arson with intent to
endanger life.”
“You mean someone wanted to blow you up?”
“It
doesn't look as though it was aimed at Sally or I, but Allison Kirk's
mum, Natalie. A gas leak was created and once Natalie started moving
about the house something ignited and… boom. We were lucky it didn't
happen while we were still in there.”
“Oh, poor Sally. How is she?”
“I'm
not sure; all the doctors have said is they are keeping her in a little
longer for observation. I spoke with her though and she seems okay.
Keen to return to work.”
“I can't wait to see her. You were both so lucky. So what now?”
“Glad you asked.” I smiled. “You don't think I brought tea just to get hugged did you?”
“Mmm.” She sat her skinny frame down on her chair. “Let me have it.”
“I
need you to dig up everything we have on Natalie Kirk. Every place
she's worked, if she ever has, all benefits she's claiming, all known
associates; look through her financials and her social networking life.
Go back as far as you can. I need to know everything there is to know
about her.”
“Looking for anything in particular?”
“Someone wanted her dead. It doesn't add up and I want to see what part of the picture is incomplete.”
"Inspector? Inspector!" Ross was shouting.
I
took a couple of strides out of Evie's office and looked down the
corridor in the direction of the incident room. Ross looked
exasperated. His usually preened hair was rumpled and he had a manic
glint in his eye I often saw when enquiries he was working on gave him
some answers.
"What is it, Ross?"
"It's the phone. For you. Forensic submissions unit."
"Put
it through to my office." I strode past him. Did we have a lead? Did
our killer slip up? I could almost taste the anticipation as I half ran
down the corridor.
I snatched up the phone. "DI Robbins."
"Ma'am it's Doug Howell from the forensic unit. We have something."
'Okay, don't leave me in suspense."
"We've
managed to get a DNA profile from a substance recovered from the first
victim, Rosie Green. Lab tests identified it as semen."
"Okay." I twisted myself around my desk and sat.
"We put the profile into the system, did a speculative search and it came up with a match."
My
patience was short and my ribs were sore and disturbing my line of
thought. Doug was still talking, something about percentages and
matches.
"Who is it Doug?"
"Colin Benn."
“Date of birth?” I scribbled down what Doug relayed to me.
“17
th
September 1965.”
“And you have the completed report to send me I take it?” The thrill of a name built inside me.
“It's coming at you via email as we speak.”
My
machine bleeped and an email from forensic submissions pinged into my
inbox. “Okay, thanks Doug. I appreciate the work you've done.”
“No worries. Anything else you need, let us know.”
The
forensic submission department was backed up. With recent heavy budget
cuts there was extra pressure on them to cut back, but with the
expectation of no fewer detections, so I thanked him again and hung up.
Now I wanted to know who Colin Benn was and how he came into contact
with Rosie Green.
I
wanted Benn's life tipped upside down and to see what fell out, so I
input his details into the police computer systems and waited. What
kind of prior did this guy have? Why wasn't he already on our radar for
this? That was definitely a question Walker would ask and one the press
would be asking too before long.
I
pushed myself out of my chair and shouted out the door for Aaron. I
hadn't had chance to talk to him about my return and his management of
the team in my absence. He was a good solid guy, who knew how to work
an investigation and I was lucky to have him. We needed to have that
conversation but there wasn't the time right now. Results were coming
back for Benn and they didn't look good.
“Shit.”
“What is it?” Aaron stuck his head around the door, feet still firmly in the incident room.
“Results
have come in from forensics with a DNA match on semen recovered from
Rosie. A guy named Colin Benn. I'm looking at a report that identifies
him as,” I stared at the computer screen before I spoke again, “Natalie
Kirk's current boyfriend.”
37
“What? We haven't done all the background checks on Natalie yet. Where is he?’ Aaron asked, standing square in my doorway now.
“I
don't know. We have an address. Can you get everyone together in the
incident room, see what Evie has managed to collate so far. Once
everyone is together, I'll brief them and we'll find him. I've got to
phone the hospital.” I snatched up the handset I had just laid down and
dialled. After some misdirections I was put through to the ICU ward.
Natalie had a police guard but someone introducing himself as her
partner would still get past. The nurse I spoke with, Joan Michaels,
said other than me, Natalie Kirk hadn't had a single visitor. I thanked
her, requested no one be allowed to visit and left my mobile number
asking her to let me know if anyone turned up.
We
had him. The piece of shit who had viciously killed two children. This
was one of those cases that made your skin crawl and made the evenings
when you shut your eyes that much more difficult. But we had him.
I sat at my desk and looked across all the paper I had sprawled across
it; notes I had made from a couple of calls with Martin and multiple
reports from various specialists, crime scene and post-mortem
photographs.
Photographic reminders of what I'd seen weren't necessary. The images
were etched like stone in my mind. Rosie Green and Allison Kirk would
never be forgotten, or the terrible injuries inflicted on them.
Looking
over my notes reminded me I needed to call Clive Tripps and update him.
We needed to find out what Benn's link to Norwich and to Rosie was. So
far I couldn't see a link or a motive.
Aaron
gathered the team and the extra bodies we needed for the arrest and
search in the incident room. It was a hive of activity and chatter.
Where seating allowed, uniformed officers sat, the rest stood at the
back.
I looked at Sally's desk and saw an a face I didn't recognise sitting there. I didn't like it but I couldn't blame the cop,
it was high profile and the kind of job cops wanted in on. A job where you knew you were fetching a real bad guy in.
Sitting
on the edge of a desk at the front of the incident room I reeled off
the new information that identified Colin Benn as the offender. Looks
passed between staff. It wasn't a name we were familiar with, but we
didn't have a list of potential suspects anyway. I continued, “Benn is
the current boyfriend of Natalie Kirk, mother of the second murdered
child Allison. It doesn't look like the explosion Sally and I were
caught up in was an accident. It's being investigated by divisional CID
as arson with intent to endanger life. We have information on Benn from
a few years back. One of the many pieces of intelligence we have is
that he was fired from a job a few years ago, for stealing parts from
the company. He worked as a kitchen fitter which would give him enough
information on how to set a gas explosion off in a house. We have three
victims, including Natalie. Now we have forensic evidence linking Benn
to Rosie, it means he has identifiable links to all three victims:
semen on Rosie; a relationship with Natalie and in turn, a
relationship, or knowledge at least, of her daughter, Allison. We need
to find him and bring him in. Initially on the murder of Rosie Green,
but we're looking at him hard for Allison's murder and the attempted
murder of Natalie, so we still have a lot of work to do. We have no
idea how Benn links to Norwich or how Rosie Green came to be found
here. I need to know everything about Benn. We can't leave any stone
unturned.” I could see Aaron writing lists as I spoke, his head down
and his hand scribbling. From past history I knew he was still
listening. He had an uncanny knack of following conversations as they
happened around him even if he appeared to be doing something else. A
loud ringing interrupted the briefing. “Who the fuck has their phone on
that loud in the middle of briefing?” I snapped. All eyes looked just
to the right of me where a phone was lighting up with every ring. Shit.
“Robbins!” I was in no mood for whoever this caller was now.
Silence. Again.
“ROBBINS.”
Nothing.
I
slammed the phone down hard on the desk; it bounced twice before
hitting the floor. All eyes looked away. “Bollocks.” I cursed again,
picked it up and put it on vibrate before I set it back down a bit
easier. Aaron eye-balled me, a question in his expression. I took
a breath.
“Okay.
The last known address for Benn is 28 Sharland Street, Basford. There
is an old Y registered blue Mondeo registered to him at that address.
We want the car seized as it could have been used to transport the
bodies. He has some previous convictions for,” I looked down at the
paperwork in my hands and read from the printouts, “assault, drugs and
an old USI…” USI stood for Unlawful Sexual Intercourse, “with a
fourteen year old girl when he was eighteen.”
“His taste hasn't changed with age then,” Aaron commented, still writing his notes.
“It would appear not.”