by Jack Slater
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Pete woke with a jerk, pain driving spikes through his skull and down into his neck and shoulder. He groaned. He was on his back, softness beneath him. Grass? No, the light was wrong. Artificial. He was inside. In bed. He could feel a sheet over him. He cracked open his eyes but the brightness sent fresh, even more intense agony spearing into his brain so he closed them immediately with a hiss of air through his teeth, before they could clear the moisture that filled them and allow him to see.
Annie!
He jerked up but was restricted by the sheets. ‘A…’
‘Pete.’ Louise’s voice penetrated his consciousness. Where had she come from? She was at work, wasn’t she? ‘He’s awake.’
‘Am I?’ he groaned without opening his eyes, more aches and pains registering through the agony of his head. ‘Or is this Hell? Where’s Annie?’
‘I’m here, dad.’ Her voice came from beyond the foot of his bed.
Relief flooded through him, easing the pain. He tried opening his eyes again. It was still painful but blinking several times seemed to clear the moisture and lessen the impact. Louise was standing over him in uniform. The ceiling beyond her, curtains around them and the bright square lights all said Hospital. The man in a white coat at the end of the bed, standing next to Annie, clinched it. ‘How’d I get here?’
‘Annie saw Evie and her dad and sent him back for you. They saw a man jump into some sort of Land Rover and drive away like he had a rocket up his arse but they didn’t get a registration or anything. You were out of it, so he called an ambulance.’
‘I need to call in. Get an alert out for him.’ He looked around, tried to sit up but failed, gasping as pain lanced through his shoulder. ‘Where’s my jacket?’
‘What’s the matter?’ Louise frowned.
‘I told you, I need…’
‘No. Your arm.’
‘Shoulder,’ he corrected. ‘He hit me in the neck. Nothing broken that I know of.’
‘Your jacket’s over here,’ she said, pointing towards a chair at the head of the bed. ‘Hang on.’
‘More importantly,’ the doctor cut in. ‘We need to examine that shoulder.’
‘Depends on your priorities,’ Pete argued. ‘The man who did this is a suspected killer and he’s out there running free.’
‘Here, dad,’ Annie said, holding out the phone.
Louise took it from her. ‘I’ll do that,’ she said as the doctor stepped forward along the far side of the bed.
She used the speed-dial function and got almost straight through to the squad room.
‘Jane? It’s Louise.’
‘Ow,’ Pete protested as the doctor probed with hard fingers at the base of his neck.
‘Yes, he’s here in A&E. He was attacked by that Southam bloke. He’s driving a…?’ She raised a querying eyebrow at Pete, whose arm was being stretched out straight and gently twisted by the doctor.
‘Dark brown Discovery,’ he gasped. ‘Black wheel guard with the Watson’s logo on it. Registration unknown.’
Louise repeated what he’d said into the phone.
The doctor continued to manipulate Pete’s arm and shoulder.
‘Right. Cheers, Jane.’ Louise hung up. ‘All right?’
Pete grunted, unwilling to nod.
‘The shoulder’s fine,’ the doctor announced. ‘There’ll be a bruise though, and it’ll be sore for a few days. I’d suggest keeping it in a sling for forty-eight hours.’
‘Thanks.’
The doctor looked up at Louise. ‘We’ll keep him in overnight for observation due to the concussion and loss of consciousness, but he should be good to go by morning.’
Pete tried to move again but collapsed back onto his pillows. ‘I can’t…’
‘You can,’ she told him. ‘And you will. Annie and I’ll be OK for tonight.’
‘If he knows where her school is, he knows where the house is,’ Pete argued.
‘So we won’t stay there.’ She sounded firmly determined but he saw the flash of worry in her eyes.
‘We’ll get him,’ Pete told her, reaching for her hand with his good one. ‘He’s desperate. He’ll make a mistake.’
She nodded to the doctor, who stepped out through the curtain. ‘He’d better make it soon.’
‘He will. His main reason for sticking around is because his brother’s in clink, due in court in the morning. He wants to return the favour and break him out.’
She looked horrified. ‘He won’t get away with it?’
Pete went to shake his head but stopped with a wince. ‘No. He’ll have an extra escort. Or two.’
She pursed her lips.
‘We know what’s coming so we can deal with it,’ he reassured her. ‘Big brother’s going nowhere and little brother – well, younger anyway – will soon be inside where he belongs.’
‘With you and Dave Miles both in here?’
Pete smiled at her faith in him. ‘We’re not the only capable coppers in this city.’
She grunted. ‘Don’t tell DCI Silverstone that.’
He laughed and another jolt of pain drove deep into his neck. ‘I won’t if you don’t.’
*
‘There’s good news and bad news,’ Jane announced as he walked into the squad room the next morning, having been kept in the hospital until the doctors made their rounds just after nine.
‘Give me the good. I need it,’ he said, sitting down stiffly. He’d discarded the sling they put his arm into as soon as he left the building. It was painful, but he needed both arms free, if only to drive.
‘Someone got a registration on the brown Discovery.’
‘Good. And the bad?’
‘No-one’s seen it since. No ANPR hits, no CCTV – nothing.’
Pete winced. ‘Has he dumped it then? Nicked something else?’
‘No reports have come in yet, on either count.’
‘But none have on the Discovery, have they?’
‘True. The owners must be away on holiday or something,’ she agreed leaning back in her chair.
‘So where does that leave us?’
‘Back where we were before he turned up at Annie’s school,’ she admitted.
‘Was a watch put on my place last night?’
‘Don’t know, boss.’
The phone on Pete’s desk rang before he could say anymore. His shoulder protested as he reached for it. He swapped hands and picked it up. ‘Gayle.’
‘It’s Bob downstairs. I’ve got something for you.’
‘I hope to Christ it’s something good,’ Pete said.
‘Someone down here in reception wants to see you.’
‘Who?’
‘A woman who saw the DCI’s bit on telly last night. Wants to talk to the person in charge of the case.’
‘OK. I’ll be down.’ Pete put the phone down and stood up, holding his bad arm against his stomach with the other hand.
‘What was that all about?’ asked Dick.
‘Jonas Hanson.’
‘Oh, ah?’
‘Seems like our beloved leader’s earned his keep for once. There’s a woman downstairs wanting a chat. Come on Jane.’
Dick was nodding. ‘About time we got a break.’
‘Hmm. While we’re gone, I need the rest of you to find me something solid on Steve Southam’s whereabouts.’
Normally, that would have garnered a sarcastic response from at least one of the team, but there was silence behind him as he headed for the door with Jane close behind him.
‘So, what have we got down here, boss?’ Jane asked as they descended the stairs.’
‘You know as much as I do, Jane.’
They went through the door at the bottom and turned left towards reception. There was only one person waiting there – a woman in her late thirties, Pete guessed. Dark hair cut in a Page-boy style, and a long, loose short-sleeved dress, dark with a pale pattern threading through it. She had an attractive face but wore little make-up
, as if she didn’t want to attract attention.
He held out his good hand, only too aware of how he looked with a clearly injured arm and the bandage still on his face. ‘I’m DS Gayle. This is DC Bennett. How can we help?’
Her hand was limp in his, a cursory touch. It looked marginally more decisive in Jane’s.
‘I’ve… I’ve come to report a rape,’ she said, her girlish voice getting weaker as she spoke until it was barely a gasp.
Pete tensed. ‘When did this happen?’
‘June the second.’
Pete’s eyes widened. That was just a few days ago.
‘1995,’ she added and he felt himself slump.
‘You must have been very young,’ Jane said, reaching for her hands again.
‘Seventeen. I was in the middle of my A-levels. Had to give them up. I couldn’t go out of the house afterwards. Not for ages. Couldn’t talk about it – not even to my parents.’
‘So, what did you tell them had happened?’ Pete asked.
‘I didn’t. I just shut myself away and refused to come out except for the bathroom for… I don’t even know how long. We don’t talk about it.’
Jane stepped in again. ‘But you’re willing to talk to us now?’
She nodded meekly. ‘I saw the bit on the local news last night and thought I had to. If it’s happening again…’
Pete shook himself out of whatever non-thinking state he’d fallen into. ‘Do you want to come through and talk somewhere private?’
‘Yes, please.’
He led the way through to the back corridor where he found an interview room not in use, showed them in and went on to the custody desk to tell the duty sergeant that he was using it.
Back in the room, he found Jane sitting on the same side of the desk as the woman, the red light showing that the digital recorder was already running. He pulled up a chair across from them. Jane looked at him and nodded.
Leaning forward, elbows on the table, he asked, ‘So, what’s your name, Miss?’
‘Lucy. Lucy Willoughby.’
‘And why did you want to speak to us specifically, Lucy? What made you believe your attack was relevant to our case?’
‘The van. Your DCI whatever mentioned three or four vehicles the man had had over the years and I recognised the van. White with red stripes down the sides.’
Pete felt the excitement surge up inside him, but he kept himself outwardly calm. ‘A white van. What kind of van?’
‘A big one. The white-van-man kind. Transit?’
He nodded and glanced at Jane. She tipped her head.
‘I didn’t see the piece on TV last night, Lucy, but would it be OK if I showed you a picture? Not of the van, but a man. If he’s the right one – and I’m not saying he is – it’s a recent one so he’ll be a lot older than he would have been back then.’ He smiled. ‘We all are, eh?’
She tensed but nodded once, holding on tighter to Jane’s hands. ‘OK,’ she whispered.
Moving carefully, Pete took out his phone and brought up a photo of Jonas Hanson. Turned the screen towards her.
She gasped and recoiled, turning her head away to look down at her hands in Jane’s. After what felt like an age, she nodded without looking up.
‘That’s him?’ Pete checked after putting the phone away. ‘The man who attacked you in 1995?’
‘Yes,’ she gasped.
‘And would you be willing to go to court and say so?’ He seriously doubted it at this moment and, if she did, the defence would send her sobbing out of the witness box, a traumatised mess.
‘Yes,’ she said, surprising him with the strength of her voice as her eyes met his.
Pete was surprised not just by the vividness of their blue colour but by the intensity of her gaze. Still, he had to ask: ‘You’re sure?’
‘They can throw whatever they like at me. It’s only words.’
Pete sat back in his chair, a deep sigh releasing the tension he’d been bottling up as they spoke. ‘We’re going to need the details of your attack,’ he said. ‘Only as much as you’re willing to tell us at this stage. I appreciate how difficult this must be. If you want to speak to Jane alone or with another female officer instead of me, that’s fine.’ Either Jill or, if necessary, a specialist officer from force HQ at Middlemoor.
Lucy shook her head. ‘I’ll be facing men in the court, won’t I?’
‘Yes,’ Pete nodded.
‘So, I might as well start now. At least you’re on my side.’
He gave her a smile. ‘Very much so. Do you want a drink or anything?’
‘A cup of tea would be nice.’
‘I’ll see what I can drum up.’ He pushed his chair back and left her alone with Jane again. The more gently he could approach this, the more they’d get out of her, he thought. And the better it would be for her.
He headed along to the custody suite and in minutes was back with a tea and two coffees. Better a shared experience than to drink alone.
‘Here we go.’ He said, setting the plastic cups on the table and retaking his seat. He let her take a sip, matching her move for move before saying anything more. Only after they’d replaced their cups on the table did he ask, ‘Tell us what you can about what happened, Lucy.’
Lucy looked up from her cup, first at Jane, then at Pete. ‘It was a Friday. I had a light day at college. There wasn’t much going on with the exams and so on. I was walking along Streatham Drive and this van pulled up a few yards in front of me. It was facing me, on my side of the road. The driver got out. He had a map in his hand. He said something about being confused and late for a job and could I direct him to Howell Road? I started to tell him he must have missed the turn and he dropped the map and grabbed me.’ She shivered at the memory.
‘I tried to fight him off but he was too strong. I screamed but nobody heard me. He threw me in the van and…’ She paused, fighting the tears that sparkled in her eyes. One dropped onto her cheek and ran slowly down. ‘He did it. Afterwards, he drove off with me still in the back. We didn’t go far. Just somewhere on the edge of town. He came back and I thought he was going to do it again. He started to. Then he…’ She drew a breath and more tears were freed from her eyes.
‘It seemed like he couldn’t, so he got angry and began to choke me. I fought but he’d got his hands round my neck, his full weight on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. I thought I was going to die,’ she sobbed. After a moment she wiped at her eyes and looked up at Pete again. ‘I must have blacked out,’ she whispered. ‘The next thing I knew, I was lying in a ditch. There was grass and stuff all over the place, over the top of me and everything. It was like I was looking up from a grave.’ She shuddered. ‘I panicked, bolted up out of there. He’d… I was half naked. I don’t know the name of the road. It’s off the Cowley bridge. There was a cottage not far away. I told them I’d been attacked and they insisted I call the police, but I told them I’d do it from home. My parents were both at work so, when they took me back, I just went in and had a shower and…’ She shook her head. ‘I couldn’t call anyone. I couldn’t speak to anyone. When my parents got home I told them I’d been ill.’
She looked haunted, her eyes big and soft and wet and sad. Pete’s heart went out to her. It was all he could do not to reach for her hand. Although she must have been a few years older than he was, she seemed so much younger. Almost as if she’d shed all the intervening years as she recalled the terrible events she’d endured.
‘You’re incredibly lucky to still be alive,’ he said gently. ‘He must have thought you weren’t when he dumped you.’
She blinked, wiped her eyes again and looked at him. ‘I know. I’ve thought about that over and over. I think that’s what kept me going afterwards. The fact that I was given a second chance at life.’ Her throat convulsed. ‘I just couldn’t face living it.’
Jane reached out and took her hand. ‘But you have. And now you’ve come to us and told us about it. Whether you manage to get to court or not – and, to
be fair, a lot of women don’t. Can’t face it in the end – speaking about it outside of that situation will help you get your life back.’
Lucy looked at Jane as if she didn’t believe a word of it, but Pete nodded. ‘It’s true. I don’t understand why but I know from experience. I haven’t been raped, of course, but I…’ He hesitated, unwilling to even speak the words, but it was too late. He’d started the sentence. For her sake if not his own, he had to finish it. He swallowed, let the air out of his lungs and tried to draw himself up but failed. ‘I lost my son.’
The sympathy that showed instantly in her tearful, stricken eyes almost broke him but he held it together somehow, by the finest of threads. He coughed and took a sip of his coffee. He felt like he was trembling inside. The words had taken so much out of him that he could barely stand to look at her – at anyone. But he forced himself to meet her gaze.
She gave him a tiny smile of thanks.
‘I will go to court,’ she said, glancing at Jane. ‘I know it won’t be easy. They’ll want to know why I didn’t report it years ago. Claim I’m making it up. Or that it was somehow my fault. But…’ She took a deep breath. ‘I survived the act, I can survive some slimy clever-dick lawyer badgering me.’
Jane still had hold of her hand. ‘It would help us a lot, if you’re sure. And all the other women out there who’d fall victim to him in the future.’
She looked from Pete to Jane. ‘Has he done it again?’
Pete nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘And…’ She swallowed.
Jane this time. ‘Yes.’
She broke down then. ‘And I could have stopped it. Prevented it.’
Pete felt a surge of anger – not at her, but at Hanson for putting her through this. ‘None of what he’s done is your fault,’ he told her. ‘None of it. Your own attack or any of those since.’
