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 those in Rosie’s folders. 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 posterity.
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.
52
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 the 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 inte
rview.
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.
53
The consultation with his solicitor could take some time. There would be the need for a serious conversation and, depending on how talkative he was, the outcome of the subsequent interview would be determined. I walked with Aaron up the stairs towards the incident room.
“Thoughts, Aaron?”
“We have a good case, regardless of what he does or doesn’t say in the next interview.”
“I know that, but how do you think he’s going to go now?”
“It doesn’t matter, Hannah. We don’t need a confession. We have his DNA and we have the photographs and videos on his computer. He’s told us it’s his computer. We have a strong case to put to CPS for a charging decision.” It was like pulling teeth with him sometimes. I ran my hands through my hair; the action pulled on my ribs. I felt in my pocket for the painkillers. Aaron went with the facts. He didn’t see the point in guessing what direction offenders were going. He asked the questions, anticipated some of the answers and wove his way through his interview plan, pulling in all the potential loose ends until, by the time the important questions were out, they had nowhere else to go. He was cool and calm and never let his emotions lead him on an investigation, or at any other point I could think of, and he bounced off my emotional, occasionally hot-headed approach well.
“I know. But this guy’s scum and I want him locked up. Sometimes I can’t stand the dance we do with them. And with the solicitors.”
He shrugged. “We get there, Hannah. There’s nothing else you can do.”
I pushed the door to the incident room and everyone stopped talking.
“What’s going on?” The quiet unnerved me. It was never a good sign when cops ran out of things to say. Grey was stood at the front with Danny who didn’t look at all happy to be in front of this crowd. He looked up at me like a startled rabbit caught in the headlights. No one spoke.
“Danny?” Aaron asked from behind me.
Grey took hold of Danny by his arm and pulled him towards me. I sidestepped the oncoming duo. Danny shook free his arm and followed Grey through the doors and into my office. Aaron and I followed suit.
“Shut the door, shut the door,” Grey stammered as I followed them into my small office space, which looked even more inadequate with the four of us stood in front of my desk. Aaron pushed the door to and looked at Grey stonily. He didn’t do drama well. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Grey look more panicked than he did now, and that included when he’d heard about the second murdered girl, Allison Kirk.
“What is going on, Anthony?” I asked, standing in front of him with crossed arms.
Grey turned away from me, looked through the window out to the secure custody yard below, then drew back his shoulders and turned to face me, tense and pale. Danny looked at the floor. “Danny’s been looking at the photographs in Benn’s computer and located the last photograph Benn was sent. He thinks it’s something we should know.”
I sat down on the edge of my desk, knocking a precariously positioned pile of paperwork down to the floor.
“Crap.” I bent to retrieve them. “What is it, Anthony?”
“Danny went through the photographs Ross categorised and he found a photograph that hadn’t been placed in any folder, but was in the downloaded file.” He looked to Danny for confirmation. “Right so far?”
Danny nodde
d.
My skin started to crawl. I didn’t like the way this conversation was going. “What was the photograph?” I held my breath for the answer.
“It’s another girl, Hannah.”
I let out my breath. “But he has several collections of images. We know about them. What’s different?”
“Danny has checked the image and can tell the date the photograph was taken. It was two days ago. The child in the photograph was in a cage, Hannah, with something around her neck and she was there two days ago.” He looked hard at me.
“Oh my God.” I stood up, adrenalin coursing through me.
“She could still be alive. There’s a girl out there, held in a cage, who could be alive and Benn is our link to her. He could tell us who has her.”
54
I sat on what I knew while Benn revealed details. I’m not sure what happened with his solicitor but he talked, and he talked a lot. The laptop had been placed back on the floor so it wouldn’t distract him from what he wanted to say now. He got through three cups of coffee, barely stopping for breath. It was as though coffee was his cigarettes. His lifeline to some semblance of calm in a rapidly disintegrating world. He talked about his needs. His lust. His pathetically desperate attempts to control his behaviour. I could barely contain a snarl as he spoke of it, his self-pity evident. He wanted acceptance and understanding. He wanted to know we thought he tried hard. He wanted us to accept his pleas of just how difficult it had been for him.
He started with an explanation of the dynamics with Natalie and Allison, and in greater detail than his previous interview. We let him run with it. It’s never a good idea to interrupt the flow. Then he told us it was Natalie’s fault. She didn’t put out for him often enough, she neglected him and she loved her booze more. She had a daughter. She had a daughter who was there for him. Who listened to him and spent time with him, who laughed at his jokes and was a friend to him. It was Natalie who had thrust Allison on him with her neglectful behaviour.
Shallow Waters (Detective Hannah Robbins crime series Book 1) Page 14
