‘Val, take him through and give him a cup of tea or something, for God’s sake,’ Vickers said, the strain showing in his voice. ‘There’s whisky in my drawer. Dig it out and pour him a double, then take him home. Make sure the press don’t see him like this.’
He grabbed me by the arm and hustled me out past the little group. ‘Nothing we can do here, but plenty you can do at the hospital,’ he said, tugging impatiently when I
hesitated
. ‘Now do you see why it’s important? That man’s going to destroy himself if we don’t finish this soon.’
Fundamentally I liked Vickers and I understood what drove him. I didn’t want to suggest to him that finding Jenny’s killer might not be enough to save her father, but I thought it.
We left the police station by a side door that led into the car park. I had lost track of time in the cells and it was a surprise to find that the sun was setting. I stopped for a second just outside the door and took a long, deep breath; no air had ever tasted sweeter. Deliberately, I let Vickers get fifty yards ahead of me, wanting a moment to myself. As I started to follow him to his car, there was a sudden flash. I looked around, disorientated, to see a single photographer standing to my right, hunched over a little, holding a huge camera. The instant I turned around and gave him the angle he wanted, he snatched six or seven pictures in quick succession, the flash as bright and remorseless as strobe lighting. I threw up my arm to shield myself from the camera, peripherally aware of Vickers turning and running back towards us. I couldn’t understand what had happened – how the photographer had known who I was, for starters – but I knew with bitter clarity that I had lost something I’d fought for. One picture would be enough to ensure I was never anonymous again. The police might have grudgingly admitted I was innocent, but innocence didn’t make a story. Suspicion and speculation, as I knew only too well, did.
I didn’t have to spend too long wondering who was
responsible
. As Vickers tackled the photographer, a figure stepped out from behind a car.
‘Sarah, do you want to tell me about the arrest? Why did the police take you in for questioning? How are you involved in Jenny’s death?’
I had to hand it to her. She might have been a grafting reporter on a small-time local newspaper, but Carol Shapley had an instinct for finding a story that the national papers couldn’t hope to match.
‘Who told you to come here?’ Vickers said roughly, over his shoulder. He’d pushed the photographer against the wall, pressing his face into the brickwork, and I noticed that he was wheezing a little. The inspector was stronger than he looked, though, and even though the man was struggling, I didn’t think he had any chance of getting free.
Carol smiled. ‘I’ve got sources everywhere, Chief Inspector Vickers. They keep me informed.’
‘Well, your sources misled you. There’s no story here. And you’re on police property. You shouldn’t even be standing there.’
She ignored him. Her eyes were like searchlights as they swept over me, missing nothing. I felt totally exposed. ‘Sarah, we can do a follow-up to the last story, explaining what’s happened to you today. We can completely clear your name.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Don’t you want people to know you’re innocent?’
What I wanted was to stay far, far away from her. I looked away without speaking, knowing that anything I said would be used to make a better story.
The door behind me banged as a couple of uniformed officers came out, laughing a little, oblivious at first to what was going on.
‘Over here, lads,’ Vickers ground out, and the pair responded like well-trained dogs to a whistle, no questions asked. I felt slightly sorry for the photographer as his arms were twisted behind him and he was dragged to the ground with main force. Vickers stepped back and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. From the other hand, he swung the photographer’s camera by the strap.
‘Better make sure this hasn’t been damaged. Wouldn’t it be terrible if it was broken?’ As he spoke, he opened his hand and let the camera fall to the ground. ‘Oh dear. Silly me.’
The photographer kicked at the officers who were holding him, earning himself a knee in the ribs. Vickers ignored him, picking up the camera and switching it on.
‘It still works,’ he said pleasantly. ‘Isn’t that wonderful? Modern technology at its finest.’ He crouched down beside the photographer. ‘Can I look at the pictures you took just now?’
The man was swearing, his voice low and bitter.
‘Less of that, or you’ll find yourself under arrest.’
‘You can’t arrest me for swearing,’ the man said, outraged.
‘Section five of the Public Order Act says I can,’ Vickers said, scrolling. ‘Swear again and find out if I mean it. What does this button do? Delete, is it?’
Carol had moved to stand beside Vickers. ‘You can’t do this. I’ll report this – this censorship. Police brutality. Abuse of powers. I’ll make sure you get in so much trouble, you never work as a police officer again.’
‘Oh no, my dear, you’ve got it wrong. I can make sure you never write another word for the
Elmview Examiner
. Eddie Briggs is a good friend of mine, and he’s no fan of yours, Mrs Shapley, even if he is your boss. Then there’s your car – I’m sure if I go and look at it, I can find some very pressing reasons why it needs to be impounded – for your own safety, you understand.’ He smiled at her. ‘Bit of advice for you: don’t pick a fight with the police. We will win.’
‘Are you threatening me?’
‘Yes,’ Vickers said simply. ‘And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll forget you ever saw this. Miss Finch is absolutely innocent; I’m quite satisfied of that. She was brought in to speak to us at the police station for operational reasons. She’s been very helpful and very understanding, and what she deserves is a little bit of respect, and her privacy.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Carol’s lips were thin and I thought she was trying not to cry. ‘Why are you standing up for her?’
He leaned in so his face was inches away from hers. ‘Because I don’t like bullies, Mrs Shapley, and I don’t like the way you work. And I’m watching you. No passing on the information anonymously. If I read one word about Miss Finch in the papers, or hear a single syllable about her on any news programmes, I will hold you personally responsible. I’ll make sure you never get another story from Surrey Police. I’ll call in every favour I can to make your life a misery. Believe me, Mrs Shapley, I mean every word I say.’ He thrust the camera at her. ‘Now, do we have an understanding?’
She nodded sulkily.
‘Let him up, boys.’
The uniformed officers sat back and let the man scramble to his feet. His clothes were dishevelled and dirty, and his eyes were full of loathing.
‘Give me my camera.’
Carol handed it over and he checked it, running his hands over it, rubbing at a scuff mark. ‘This is an expensive bit of kit. If it’s damaged—’
‘If it’s damaged, send the bill to Carol. Now hop it. I’m tired of looking at the pair of you.’ There was something in Vickers’ demeanour that suggested he wasn’t in the mood for further discussions. Wisely, in my view, the pair of them walked off without another word. Carol took the time to glare at me and I stared back, unflinching, even though the cold hatred on her face was chilling.
Vickers nodded to the two uniformed officers. ‘Thanks, lads.’
‘No problem,’ one of them said, his voice so deep it rumbled. ‘Anytime. Anything else we can do for you?’
‘Not at present. You can get on your way.’
The two officers headed across the car park, as unruffled as if what had just happened was all in a day’s work – but then, for them, it was. I was mildly surprised by how effective Vickers had been at manhandling the photographer, but I really shouldn’t have been. He would have done his time on the street in uniform too, even if it had been decades before.
He turned back to me. ‘Are you all right?’
I realised that I was shivering and my hands were clammy. ‘Yes. I suppose so. Thank you for that.’
Vickers laughed. ‘For nothing. That was my pleasure. She’s an evil cow, that Shapley woman, and you’ve had enough trouble from her for one lifetime.’ He gave me a sidelong look. ‘Besides, I like to think that it might make up for what happened today.’
‘It wouldn’t have happened at all if you hadn’t arrested me in the first place,’ I pointed out.
‘How right you are. Ah, well, I still owe you a favour, then, for agreeing to help us with Paul. Don’t worry, I won’t forget.’
‘Don’t worry. Neither will I.’ But I was smiling as I said it. I couldn’t imagine how Vickers would be able to repay me, but that wasn’t the point. What he was telling me was that I was back on his side, on the side of the angels, and it felt like a good place to be.
I was going to end the day where I had started it, I realised, as I tracked Vickers through the corridors towards the paediatric unit at St Martin’s, where Paul was recovering under the watchful gaze of DS Blake. Blake leaped to his feet when Vickers pushed open the door. I moved from behind Vickers to look at the bed where Paul was lying curled up on his side, his eyes closed.
‘Thanks for coming in, Sarah,’ Blake said, digging his hands into his pockets.
I ignored him, my attention on Paul. His breathing was hoarse, his cheeks were flushed and sweat had slicked his hair to his forehead.
‘Is he OK?’ I asked, keeping my voice low.
‘He’s been in and out all day. The doctors are happy
with
him – say he’s recovering well, all things considered. They won’t let us talk to him for very long when he is awake, and we can’t wake him up, I’m afraid, even though you’re here.’
‘I wouldn’t let you,’ I said, surprised and not a little irritated. ‘I don’t mind waiting. I have Paul’s interests at heart.’ I didn’t say
even if you don’t
, but the words hung in the air as if I had.
Vickers jumped in before Blake had a chance to reply. ‘Speaking of Paul’s interests, this is Audrey Jones, Paul’s social worker.’ He gestured to the corner of the room, where a middle-aged woman was sitting, arms folded under her big, cushiony bosom. ‘Motherly’ was the word that came to mind – whatever that meant. Neither Paul nor I had experience of that sort of mother. In fact, Paul probably didn’t remember his own mother at all, as he had been so young when she died. Audrey nodded at me pleasantly enough, and went on sitting. Dynamic she wasn’t, and not particularly interested in the latest visitor either. I could see why she hadn’t been much use to Vickers, all in all.
There were only two chairs in the room and Audrey was occupying one. Blake had stepped away from the other, but I didn’t feel I could claim it. I was so tired I felt light-headed. I needed to sit down and I needed caffeine in large quantities.
‘Do you think he’ll be asleep for much longer?’
‘Probably another half hour,’ Blake said, checking his watch. ‘He comes and goes, but he’s due some food in a while, and that should wake him up.’
‘Do you mind if I go and get a cup of coffee?’ I said,
turning
to Vickers. I knew I wasn’t a prisoner any more, but I still didn’t feel I could walk out of the room without his permission.
The chief inspector hesitated for a fraction of a second, but assented. ‘Why don’t you take Andy with you?’ he suggested as I reached the door, almost as if it was an afterthought. ‘I can mind young Paul, and you could do with a cuppa, couldn’t you Andy? The canteen’s in the basement, I believe.’
Without waiting for me to answer, Blake was striding towards the door. I clearly wasn’t getting a choice. I gave Vickers a look that I hoped would convey
I know your game
, and got the limpid baby blues in return. He could have had a dazzling career as a criminal if he’d taken another path in life, I reflected. No one on earth would have believed him capable of wrongdoing of any kind. At least, not at first glance.
‘We really are grateful to you, you know,’ Blake began as soon as the heavy door closed behind us. ‘Especially with what happened today.’
‘Being accused of being a paedophile and a murderer? Oh, forget it. Happens all the time.’
‘Look, I never thought it was true.’
I stopped at that, looked at him for a beat, then stalked on, shaking my head. It was a shame that Blake’s legs were so much longer than mine. He had an unfair advantage in the keeping-up stakes.
‘We had to arrest you, you know. We couldn’t do it any other way. Not once you said you weren’t going to cooperate any more.’
‘And search my house? Go through my things? Talk to my mother? You couldn’t have done that without arresting me, could you?’
A muscle jumped in his jaw. ‘That wasn’t fun.’
So he had been there. I turned away, wanting to hide my face, afraid that my mortification was easy for him to read.
‘I didn’t believe it, Sarah. But what was I supposed to say? “She can’t possibly be guilty because I’ve slept with her”? I don’t even know you – not properly. I didn’t have anything concrete I could use to contradict the evidence. Instinct isn’t enough.’ He’d been speaking at full volume and I frowned at him. Belatedly, he recalled where he was and looked up and down the corridor, checking to see if anyone had overheard.
‘I don’t think this is the time or the place to talk about it.’ I stabbed the button to call the lift, imagining it was Andy Blake’s eye.
He leaned against the wall and folded his arms. ‘I don’t want you to think that I wasn’t doing my best to get you out of there today. I stood up for you.’
I laughed. ‘You’re not getting it, are you? I don’t care. Whether you believed I was guilty or not doesn’t matter to me in the slightest. I don’t care what you thought, or what you think now. I’m not here for your sake, and I’m not here because Vickers asked me so nicely. I just want to help Paul, help the Shepherds and get out of here.’
‘Fine,’ Blake said, his jaw clenched. ‘Let’s just drop it, OK?’
I didn’t respond. The lift was empty when it arrived and I stood with my back against the wall on one side, as far
away
from Blake as I could get. He pressed the button for the basement and leaned back against the other side, watching the indicator change as the lift sank down.