No, Jayne wanted to say, you guide them, love them, teach them.
‘What do you mean by trouble?’ Jayne said instead.
‘The police, what else?’
‘What kind of trouble?’
‘Young Robbie was always getting into scrapes. Got in with a bad crowd. Did some stealing, then some drugs. Never violence. Last I heard, he was in prison too. Petrol station robbery or something. What a tool. Why do a petrol station? They don’t have that much cash in there, everyone pays on a card, and there’s always plenty of cameras. Like I say, bad genes.’
‘And your daughter?’
‘Leoni? She’s the quiet one, and she’s had it tough. Boyfriend killed himself. They all said it was her fault, that she could have stopped him, but it was his decision, not hers. But,’ and she shrugged, ‘we’re just a shit family, you know. Nothing goes right. But it all started with Rodney.’
‘Where can I find Leoni?’
‘Why?’
‘She was the eldest. She might know something about her father.’
‘Speak to my parents. Go to the end of the road here and it’s the first house after the school. Flowers over the door.’
Jayne left Sarah to her vodka, pleased to get into the fresh air again.
As she looked back, she was struck by Sarah’s sadness, even if she didn’t realise it herself. Sarah had settled for a hopeless existence. And that was a tragedy.
Chapter Forty-Six
DS Banks was waiting for Dan, pacing in the police station waiting area in a bright blue shirt and yellow tie, his force ID swinging from a lanyard picked up at a policing conference. His hair was short and dark, his parting too precise. Dan wondered whether the part of the job he loved the most was the parade ground salute.
‘Mr Grant, come through,’ and he went straight to a door on the other side of the waiting area. There weren’t the usual pleasantries one might expect for a victim of crime. Then again, most victims of crime aren’t defence lawyers who spend their lives trying to dismantle police investigations.
He was shown into an interview room, normally reserved for suspects, with a recording machine fastened to a table and four chairs bolted to the floor. ‘This seems as good a place as any.’
Dan took a seat and waited for the offer of coffee. It never came. Dan didn’t mind. He was more interested in telling them what they needed to know and getting out. He decided to wait until Banks spoke though.
Banks took the seat opposite. He put some pieces of paper down. Blank police statements, ready for Dan’s account, although he didn’t seem in any rush to write anything down.
‘What happened there then?’ he said, and tapped his cheek to indicate Dan’s bruises.
‘You must know what happened. I told your colleague last night, and now you’ve got me here. I was looking into a case and I was jumped. I gave her a name. Carl Ogden.’
‘What was the case?’
Dan shook his head. ‘You don’t get that.’
‘How can we help you if you don’t tell us?’
‘When did I ask you to help me?’
‘How about when you were being taken to hospital?’
‘Your colleague asked me questions. I gave answers. You know how it is though. I was dazed, concussed, but I’ve given you a lead. If you go to his house and find his clothes or trainers, they might have my blood on them. You won’t need to know any details of my case then. Res ipsa loquitur, as they say.’
‘Yeah, yeah, the facts speak for themselves. I’m not entirely wet around the ears, except there are problems with your account.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘Carl Ogden was in all night. He never left. We went to his house after you’d been taken to his hospital, expecting to see him washing clothes and shoes. He was cosied up with his girlfriend, had been all evening. No sign of bloody clothes. Just a guy having a night in with his girl.’
‘Bullshit. I followed him.’
‘How did you know it was him?’
‘His clothes. His ridiculous trousers with OGGY down the leg. They’re his bloody signature.’
‘Did you see his face?’
‘Well, no, because I was walking behind him.’
‘What about when you were attacked? What was the street lighting like?’
‘Not much of it. It was dark, you know that.’
‘Did you get a good look at their faces? You said more than one, right?’
‘Two at least.’
‘At least? Could have been more than two then?’
‘Two, I’m sure.’
‘You said at least a moment ago. Which is it? Just two, or at least two?’
Dan took a deep breath to stay calm. ‘At least, okay. I get your point.’
‘And you didn’t get a good look at their faces?’
‘It was a flurry. I was being attacked.’
‘The answer is no, I believe.’
Dan clenched his jaw.
Banks sat back and smiled. ‘Not nice, is it, Mr Grant, having what you believe to be true twisted by questions, until the point is reached where everyone thinks you’ve got it wrong, even though you’re convinced you haven’t?’
‘Don’t be a smart-arse.’
‘I’m just giving you an example of what you’ll face if this ever gets to court. But then, you know that already. What’s the legal principle about identification you always throw around? That a mistaken witness can be a convincing witness and a genuine witness, but still, nonetheless, mistaken? Is that it?’
Dan stood. ‘If you’ve dragged me here for some petty revenge for all your lost cases, save your breath. I’ve got other things to do.’
‘What like? Fill out insurance forms for your office fire? How’s business, Mr Grant? All I hear from defence lawyers is how poor they’ve got, that the gravy train has screeched to a halt. How convenient will the fire seem if someone looks at your accounts?’
Dan put his hands on the table and leaned forward, until his face was close to Banks’s, snarling when he said, ‘If you’ve got me here to accuse me of a crime, you better have more than you’ve got.’
‘Don’t threaten me, Mr Grant.’
‘What time did you get the first report that there’d been a fire?’
Banks sat back and folded his arms. ‘Just after ten.’
‘And where was I?’
‘Not yet collected by the ambulance.’
‘Unconscious on a piece of waste ground? How long would it have taken me to get from where I was to my office? Where’s my car? And I thought I was too concussed to be a reliable witness against Carl Ogden? You can’t have it both ways, and do you know what, I still feel a little woozy. The head injury must be coming back, intermittent dizziness or something.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘Back to the pub. I’ll call Eileen and tell her what I know, but it will be the same as I’ve already told you. I was jumped by Carl Ogden and some of his cronies, left for dead in the dark, and they went and destroyed my building because they’ve got something to hide. I would suggest that you stop puffing your chest out at me and let me leave, because you know you can’t detain me.’ Dan went to the door and opened it. ‘This way, isn’t it? Will I need a special fob to get me out, or will there just be a big button for me to press? I’ll tell you what, I’ll find out.’
Dan closed the door and set off walking. He knew Banks wouldn’t follow him. Good, let him sulk. For now, Dan wanted fresh air and then more booze. He was going to lose the day, he’d decided. And the thought felt liberating.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Sarah’s parents were different to how Jayne expected. After the chaos of Sarah’s house, she’d expected much of the same. Instead, it had a beautiful garden, filled with pots of flowers and raised beds, colour streaming in every corner. Inside, it was neat and ordered, with family pictures on the walls, the room freshly decorated.
Sarah’s mother, Evelyn, was in the kitchen, making drinks. Jay
ne went to a large picture over the fireplace. It showed three girls of varying ages, all in school uniform of white shirt and tie. Their likeness was sufficient for Jayne to work out they were sisters.
As she looked closer, she realised with a jolt which was Sarah. The middle one, it appeared.
Her life had not been kind to her. In the picture, her smile was broad and white, her eyes alive with youth. She was probably nearly thirty years older now, but that alone didn’t account for the change. Sarah had once been pretty and happy, but alcohol and worry and cigarettes and bad living had wrecked her. Life can take cruel turns, she thought, and the girl in the picture had no idea of what was ahead.
Evelyn came into the room, announced through the jingle of cups on a tray, and brought in drinks and a plate of biscuits. As Jayne held the door open, she saw a man through the kitchen window digging something over. Sarah’s father, she presumed.
Evelyn put the tray down and passed Jayne a cup. ‘You went to Sarah’s house then?’
‘I’ve just come from there.’
Evelyn looked down, embarrassed. ‘It’s a mess, but that’s just how she is. We’ve tried to change her, to help her, but what else can we do?’
‘It’s not really Sarah I’m here about, but Leoni.’
‘I don’t understand.’
Jayne explained about Mark and Rodney. Evelyn’s expression darkened. ‘How can anyone expect Leoni to be like the other kids after what she’s been through? And then living with Sarah. It made her different.’
‘Different? How?’
‘Sad. Withdrawn. Quiet. It was too hard for us, and then there was that business with that boy. Well, that was too much for us. They took Leoni from us, but it wasn’t for long, because she was sixteen by then. Once she was seventeen, they just let her out, told her to make her own way.’
Jayne’s interest was piqued. ‘That boy? Sarah mentioned something about a boyfriend who killed himself.’
‘That’s right. Called David Green. Tied a rope round his neck and stepped off a chair in his garage. Can you imagine how awful it was for his parents, coming home to find him like that? And everyone turned on Leoni.’
‘But why? People should have rallied round her.’
‘Sarah didn’t mention the messages? That’s why Leoni had to move away.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘They tried to say that Leoni talked him into doing it, but how could they think that? They were just kids. They confided in each other, both quiet, just children. It wasn’t Leoni’s fault.’
‘Did this boy, David Green, live around here?’
‘Yes, two streets away. Nice kid, but a bit lost, in his way. I think that’s why Leoni liked him. He was a lost soul, just like her.’
‘Lost soul?’
‘Too nice for an estate like this. Timid, quiet, gentle. He got bullied a lot, so Leoni gravitated towards him. And they exchanged messages, because that’s what kids do, but he ended up killing himself. Just awful it was, but some people do tragic things. That’s when they took her from us, put her into care.’
‘That’s so sad,’ Jayne said. ‘Do you know where Leoni is now?’
Evelyn put her head back and thought about that. ‘I don’t know where she is now, but I know where they took her. Some place on the other side of the Pennines. Never really heard of it before, a small place, but I don’t drive so I don’t get about much.’
Jayne felt a chill. She knew the answer before she asked the question, but she asked it anyway. ‘Is it Highford?’
Evelyn snapped her fingers. ‘Yes, that’s it. I knew I’d know it if I heard it.’
‘Do you hear from her now?’
Evelyn’s lip trembled. ‘No. We tried to find her, but it was as if she didn’t want to be found. I think she felt like we’d abandoned her, or even blamed her too for David, like everyone else did. In the end, we gave up. She knows where we live, and if she wanted to find us, she could.’ She sniffed away a tear. ‘But she hasn’t.’
Jayne leaned forward and took her hand. ‘If I find her, shall I tell her you miss her?’
She nodded, tears running freely now. ‘More than that. Tell her we love her.’
‘I will, I promise. Do you have a picture?’
Evelyn went over to a cluster of framed photographs in one corner of the room. ‘This is her.’
Jayne took it from her and felt another wave of sadness. She looked just like Sarah at the same age, but not as bright. Her stare was direct, black make-up around her eyes, her hair dyed black.
‘Let me take a picture of it,’ and she meddled with the frame to take it out. She put it on the floor and used her phone to take a photograph, before reassembling it. ‘Thank you, and I hope I find her.’
As she was about to leave, Jayne thought of something. ‘Where can I find David Green’s parents?’
‘There’s only his mother left. Doreen, she’s called. His father died of a heart attack a year later. A broken heart, that’s what I think. She works in the shop most days. Dawsons, it’s called. Like a small supermarket. You might have passed it when you came in.’
Jayne thanked her and left.
As she got in her car, she sent Dan a message. Think I’m on to something. See you later.
She noticed that she’d got a message from Chris. Hope you’re okay. I wish I could see you. XX.
Yeah, right, she thought, as she turned on the engine. That party finished hours ago.
Chapter Forty-Eight
The pub didn’t seem as welcoming as before. His father had left, the beer having gone down too well, until he couldn’t support himself well enough on his stick to get himself to the toilet. He’d left with a laugh and a wave, as happy as Dan had ever seen him, and clattered his scooter against the door frame on the way out, earning a warning from the barman that he’d better learn to steer before he came back in again.
Since then, Dan had kept the beer flowing, choosing to wallow. He knew it wouldn’t achieve much, but he’d been attacked and had his business destroyed in less than twenty-four hours. If anyone deserved a drink, he did.
Except it wasn’t sending him to a good place. He wanted to blot it all out in a boozy haze, but instead it was making him focus on it, dragging his mood further down.
The room was swirling, his head felt heavier, his movements more laboured, so he knew he needed to stop. But he was drunk, so he wasn’t going to pay any attention to what he knew he should do.
He stood and tried to pick up his glass, now empty, but he fumbled it and sent it to the floor. It smashed and made the others in the pub look over, the bar busier now with the daily drinkers who prop up places like The Crown.
He raised his hand in apology before stepping out from behind the table. He stumbled but managed to stop himself from falling.
As he got near the bar, he waved his hand towards the corner where he’d been sitting and said, ‘Have you got a brush, for the glass?’ His voice was more slurred than he expected.
‘It’s all right, Dan, I’ll do it.’
‘Before you do, I’ll have one more.’ He gave an exaggerated nod towards the beer pump.
The barman considered him for a few seconds, before shaking his head. ‘No, you’re done here.’
‘Done? What do you mean, done? I want a beer.’ He slammed his hand on the bar.
‘Go home. For your sake. You’ve had a bad day. Wrecking yourself won’t help you. I’m speaking as a friend here. You’ll thank me later.’
Dan swayed as he thought about arguing his case, but he knew he was beaten. He pushed himself away from the bar and headed for the door. When he got outside, he winced and turned away from the sun. It was too bright, his pupils slow to react. The passing traffic seemed loud and blurred. He wondered where to go, because he didn’t feel like heading home yet, but that voice of common sense, becoming ever harder to hear as the booze took hold, told him he should avoid another pub.
His phone rang. He checked the screen. Eileen.
<
br /> He turned off his phone. He didn’t want whatever conversation she was after.
Memories of his office came back. All the years spent there, entering as a young trainee fresh from university. A little skinnier, much fresher-faced, learning his trade under Pat Molloy. All of that was gone, and he knew where the blame was. Carl Ogden.
He clenched his jaw. That’s where he should go.
As he set off walking, he was aware of people looking at him as he passed them, sometimes stepping out of his way. Bruised and red-faced, his eyes set in an angry glare, he was a man people wanted to avoid.
Carl Ogden needed to learn that lesson. He’d been behind whatever happened last night. He wasn’t going to get away with it.
It took Dan twenty minutes to get to the small alley close to Oggy’s house, where he concealed himself in the bushes once more. He shook his head to clear it, tried to find some focus, but it was difficult. His thoughts were foggy, and he knew he was making a mistake, but the sensible voice was drowned out now by memories of his life with Pat Molloy. All that Pat had built had been burned away. Someone should pay for that. All he needed was confirmation that Oggy was inside, like a glimpse through the window as he moved around.
It came a different way, after more than an hour of waiting and watching, interspersed with him having to relieve himself in the bushes, swaying and humming to himself as he pissed.
Oggy strolled along the street, heading towards his house like whatever had gone on the night before didn’t matter. As he turned into his garden, he let the small metal gate clang back against the post.
Dan came out of the bushes and rushed towards him. He should stop, turn and go home, but Oggy hadn’t seen him and the memories of Pat drove him forward.
Oggy should have heard him, Dan’s steps were loud and clumsy, but he was wearing earphones. Instead, he opened the door and stepped inside.
Dan was right behind him. He grabbed him by his jacket and propelled him forward. Oggy shouted out, but Dan didn’t stop. He carried on pushing, through the hallway, banging Oggy’s head against the living room door and shoving him inside until he sprawled along the floor. Someone screamed – a woman.
The Innocent Ones Page 21
