Authors: Rebecca Bradley
49
Today
she wasn't as sore. She had no idea how long she had been here. Though
days and nights were different, there had been times when she hadn't
cared what day it was, she just wanted the pain to stop, the fear to
subside and for her mum to hold her.
Today
was a better day but she was hungry. She heard the grinding sound of
the metal bolt as it was dragged across the door and the key turn in
the lock. She sat upright as she hoped it was food. There was a
semblance of routine that she was getting used to and she was hungry.
“Good
morning little angel,” he said, carrying a small plastic tray. She
could see the rim of the pink plastic plate he always used.
She twitched her nose in an attempt to figure out what he was carrying.
“So you're not speaking to me today?” he asked.
“Yes, sorry,” she apologised, staring hard at the approaching utensils.
“Hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to be a good girl today?”
“Yes. Yes, I'll be good,” she answered on her knees trying to look up.
He crouched down. His face appeared close to the bars. She stumbled back landing on her bottom. “S..s..sorry.”
“You want your breakfast little angel?”
“Yes please.”
He
placed the tray on the floor while he unlocked the small padlock that
secured the cage door. She could see the food now. A slice of burnt
toast with little sign of butter. She was hungry and desperate for it.
She pulled her feet up to her bottom, raised herself from the floor
into a crouch, waiting for the plate but keeping some distance between
them. She saw his smile. Her reaction to him always delighted him.
He
put the plastic plate through the open doorway and down on the cage
base in front of her. He then closed the door and padlocked.
“Tammy?”
“Thank
you,” she answered as she moved the toast towards her mouth. She ate
ravenously. He sat in the chair and watched her. His presence no longer
putting her off as she ate to sustain herself.
50
With
a heavy feeling I exported the photographs of Rosie onto a HTML file
and burned a disc for use in interview with Benn. I leaned back in my
chair hard, pushed my fingers together on top of my head and released a
sigh of complete mental exhaustion.
Grey
shifted on his feet “I don't think I need to see any more to know we're
interviewing the right man. I'll phone the search team and let them
know we need to seize all belts at the address and I'll have a chat
with Catherine to update her and discuss how much information we put
out to the press. There is no need to tell them we have footage. It
will come out at court, but it's too much now.”
I'd had enough of listening to him after
I don't think I need to see any more
,
but he continued to talk. “We'll let the public know we are still
questioning a male suspect in custody in relation to the murders and we
are working hard to bring this to a conclusion for everyone involved.
Hannah, do you have a minute?”
It wasn't a question. I tried not to sigh out loud as I stood and went for what I knew would be yet another case discussion.
In
the corridor, Grey spoke again, “I know you've had a tough spell,” he
picked at a finger, “I need to know you're okay to do this, to finish
the job?” I stared at him as his finger picking distraction continued.
What answer did he expect? He didn't want to run this case. He wanted
to be as far away as possible without giving Catherine Walker the
impression he couldn't handle the task. His eyes flicked from his hand,
down the corridor, checking the open doorways, before bringing his
attention back to me.
“I'm fine, sir. I can't pretend it's an easy case to work.”
His eyes shifted back to his fingers.
“But we have him now.” I continued. “We're close to answers. I've no intention of letting go.”
It
was what he wanted to hear. His eyes made contact with mine. A look of
relief flooded his face. “That's great, Hannah, you're doing a good
job. Let me know if you need anything.” And without saying another
word, he walked away.
There were two folders containing photographs of Allison. One was titled
Allie private
and the other
Allie sharing
.
The photographs were different to Rosie's folders and the majority of
images were different. It hadn't seemed to matter where they were, Benn
had deemed it a perfect place to take what he wanted and photograph it
for prosperity.
There
were shots taken inside Allison's bedroom, living room and bathroom.
There were shots taken outside. Places that seemed familiar but I
couldn't put my finger on. Then there were photographs taken in Benn's
house. Danny explained what he was reading from the images as we went
through them.
“The
images all had a creation date. There's a date created when the images
were put onto the computer hard drive at the point of transference from
the camera but there's also a date the photograph was taken.”
“You mean we have an electronic trail? A time line?” I asked in disbelief.
Danny smiled. “Yes. He's created a recorded time line for us.”
I
looked back at the photographs. I could see from the uncertainty in
Allison's face on the first photographs taken, in her school uniform,
she wasn't sure why it was happening, why her mother’s boyfriend was
focusing on her. She had a gentle smile, a tentative need to please and
Benn preyed on this. The move to indecency was slow with Allison. He
had a free space with her in which he could build a relationship while
Natalie chose alcohol over life, over her daughter. The uncertainty in
Allison's face changed to one of resignation. The smile had gone. It
hadn't been exchanged for fear though. It was as though inside her had
died.
The
last set of created images made my insides curl up and I felt myself
shaking. I clenched my jaw hard. I was the team leader, I had to deal
with this professionally and be strong and supportive for the team.
The
thing that stood out about these images, taken in Natalie Kirk's
kitchen, other than the obvious, was Benn's face. The camera was set up
on a table or kitchen side so he could watch himself back. His eyes
were wide in his face as if terrified, but he was far from the feeling
of terror; he was on another level, maybe horrified, but unable to
stop.
I
had moved the girl’s photographs from the desk after I had spoken with
Grey. My fingers drummed an anxious beat at the side of the keyboard as
I desperately fought the urge to slam the keyboard into the monitor.
The
last movie went silent. Danny pushed a nearby chair hard into a work
station as he walked out of the room. I swivelled to look at Ross. His
face was ashen, his stance rigid.
“It's okay,” I said to him. He turned and walked out.
Feeling
drained, I sat completely still, like every living, functioning cell
within me had decided to desert me. Any sane thought process escaped my
grasp as I sat and looked at the screen with the blank black box of a
watched movie staring back at me. I took the moment of quiet and let
myself wind down until a feeling of relative normality settled again.
Then I'd attempt to gather my rambling thoughts, emotions and fears and
fit them back into their compartments in my head and restart my
function as the DI on this case.
In my years in this job, kids are what get to me the most. Innocence
and trust shattered at the whim of adults on a self-obsessed driven
track. Rosie and Allison had no chance against a man like Benn. A
man who confessed he was driven by his own needs at the expense of
anyone else. A man who created relationships with beat down with life,
alcoholic women just to get close to their child. A man who not only
satisfied his own dark and dangerous needs but laid it out for the
sordid satisfaction of others. That's what the sharing folders were.
Images of wrong shared with others.
I
had a long day ahead of me. I now had to go into interview with Benn
after watching these sordid images. I had to discuss them and put the
evidence to him. I then had to give him his own opportunity to answer
for what was there. Give a reason if he could. A reason I had no
interest in, but would give him time for. I dropped my head towards the
back of the chair and closed my eyes. Closed out the world. There was a
sudden flash across the inside of my eyelids. Flesh tones and small
featured children moved across in front of me. My eyelids flew open and
I bolted upright. My mind was going to work against me now and I would
be replaying these images internally for a couple of days to come. This
was a product of the role, of dealing with men like this who
collected
images. We were left with imprints in our brains, always filed away but
recoverable should they be discussed or a similar job triggers their
release. A nasty side of life people should never have to see. Catching
the bad guys and locking them up made up for the time we were haunted
by their offences. It was hard, but I was ready for it. I was ready for
Benn.
51
Benn
sat across from me looking like he'd spent the night in the cells. His
hair had taken on a coarse unkemptness and his skin looked pallid. He
had a sour feet smell about him. Despite these unpleasant things, he
still had an air of arrogance. He slouched on his black plastic chair,
feet pushed out in front of him crossed at the ankles, his head cocked
to the side in an uninterested stance. His solicitor, however, was in
stark contrast. A perfect night's sleep, it appeared, had been had by
the newly qualified solicitor. She looked as though she had spent a
week at a spa. Her hair bounced around her face and a slick of gloss
was slashed across her mouth. Her legs crossed at the knees where she
held a notebook and tapped a pen lightly against the lined paper. Her
mobile phone was off and laid on the table in front of her. Her leather
bag leant against the leg of her chair.
I
sat and waited for Aaron. I'd shown him the images and we had discussed
and planned the interview strategy. It was a quiet office when we'd
left. Silence seemed to be a precursor for this job. We were scraping
up the very slime of the gene pool with this case and it was having an
effect on everyone.
Aaron
pushed the interview door open with his shoulder, carrying three
steaming cups in his hands. A mug from the office filled with green tea
for myself and two Maxpax cups filled with powdered milk and cheap
coffee for Benn and solicitor. She eyed me over her thin hot cup and
smiled. Aaron didn't like to drink when interviewing, but I found it
gave me a few seconds break when the going got heavy.
The
interview tapes were turned on and I ran through the introductions and
caution before summarising the previous day’s interview.
I
went over his relationship with Natalie. It had seemed like a good idea
at the time, but he soon found out how much of a drunk she was. So,
instead of walking out on her, he chose to spend some time with her
daughter.
“It
were the right thing to do,” whimpered Benn. “I couldn't walk away
could I? The kid needed me. Her mother were a waste of space and I kind
of liked being around them.”
“Today we are going to move away from asking about Natalie and Allison for the moment and talk about Rosie,” I said.
Benn looked at me.
“Tell me about Rosie Green, Colin,” I continued.
“I don't know nothing about no Rosie Green. I told you this yesterday.”
“You do realise the forensic guys are going through your place with a fine tooth comb, don't you?”
“Yeah. They won't find anything.”
He was confident.
“Okay, let’s talk computers.”
“What about them?”
“When we entered your house, you were working on your computer. We seized it. Tell us what you use it for?”
“You know. Internet stuff.”
“What kind of internet stuff?”
We
ran through his computer basics. His computer use. Make and model, when
bought, who lived at his address, what websites he visited and what
sites turned him on sexually. There were no unusual answers and he was
getting more and more comfortable with the interview. He hadn't noticed
the laptop plugged into the wall on the floor behind me. He was, once
again, open with us, his legs apart and a bored sounding tapping coming
from one of his feet on the floor. He admitted to having quite a large
collection of pornography with some extreme and hardcore images.
“I think they go a little past hardcore,” Aaron commented, barely shifting a muscle.
“It's
just another taste though, innit?” Benn replied, more as a statement of
fact than an answer. He lounged back on his chair, his confidence in
his ability to cover up his crime oozing from him. The interview tapes
in the machine were about to come to an end so now was a good time to
collect more drinks.
I
leaned from my chair, reaching down to the laptop. “Can we get you
another drink, Colin, before we move onto the next part of the
interview?”
“Yeah, why not? It tastes like crap but I could drink another one.”
I put the laptop on the table between us. Benn's smile faltered.
I
closed the interview and sealed up the tapes. Aaron left to get more
coffee. Corinne Selby looked bored and sat foot tapping the air with
her perfectly styled pointed shoe. The computer questions seemingly
held scant interest and had little relevance to the murder
investigation her client was being interviewed about.
Aaron
returned to the interview room, the silence broken as he dropped
another cup in front of Benn. Sitting down he opened another set of
tapes and started them running. This time Aaron took the lead and
focussed on Rosie. His tone was straightforward with no hint of what he
was thinking or where the questions could possibly go. His analytical
mind moved deftly forward. Benn kept up his denial of ever having come
into contact with Rosie. He seemed to be distracted, his attention
continually moving to the laptop on the table, considering its
relevance to the questions. Miss bouncy raised one of her contoured
brows at me at one point, to which I shrugged in response. She made no
comment. The coffee sat untouched on the table.
“We have your DNA, Colin. It was taken when you were booked into custody yesterday,” Aaron said.
“Yeah, I know. What of it?”
“During the post-mortem of Rosie Green, DNA evidence was recovered and profiled.”
I watched as Benn began to twitch.
“Yeah?”
“Yes.
The DNA profile was run as a speculative search against the DNA
database to search for any matches.” He didn't go further. Benn started
fingering the Maxpax cup. Selby looked at Benn. Benn refused to return
her look.
“And?” he asked.
“The
DNA found on the body of Rosie Green was matched against DNA held on
the database, taken from you on a previous detention with us.” He
stopped, giving it time to sink in.
Benn
now turned to his solicitor, panic clearly starting to rise. The laptop
was forgotten. DNA typing and matching was now forefront in his mind.
“I...I...I don't understand.”
“It's
simple, Mr Benn. Rosie Green was brutally murdered after being sexually
violated. Semen recovered matches your DNA. You raped and murdered
Rosie Green.”
“I want this to stop. It's my right. Stop this. I want to speak to my solicitor. Stop. Stop it now.”
The interview was stopped.