by Bo Brennan
India sighed and propped her head in her hand. Sangrin on a roll could only make the day more laborious.
The bang on the desk turned all eyes to Firman. “Listen up, people. An hour ago a call came in from control. A 35 year old woman in Burghclere reports she's been the victim of a drug-facilitated rape in her own home.”
India looked at the wall of faces, noticed at least two new additions on the identified side, the woman he was talking about would be one of them. The press conference and outside enquiry teams were yielding results, but it still didn't get them any closer to finding out who was behind the attacks.
“The details are hazy and the woman is still very disorientated,” Colt added. “What is clear is that non-consensual sex took place sometime in the last twelve hours and that she was unable to move, or open her eyes for the duration of the attack.”
India lifted her head, felt a surge of electricity intensify the air as the realisation of a major breakthrough dawned. The room buzzed with excitement. For the very first time they had their victim at the point of attack. Now that was a game changer.
“SOCO are currently at the scene and have just sent photos of these three small carpet indentations from the foot of the bed,” Colt said. A close up picture flashed on the wall mounted screen, they were faint but the indentations were definitely there. A tripod. Foxy was right, he was acting alone.
“The victim is currently in the care of medical examiners at Basingstoke rape suite,” Colt said. “Lee and Tom, you're liaising with local police and SOCO at the scene. India, you’re sex crimes trained so you're coming with me to take the victim statement.”
Oh for god’s sake. India drew a deep breath as she packed her notepad into her battered leather shoulder bag, pining for her duvet, a dessert spoon, and a tub of Ben & Jerry’s.
They sat in uncomfortable silence as far apart as the small waiting room in the rape suite allowed. When he’d insisted on driving she'd virtually sprinted to get that bloody iPod from her glove box. He'd hoped they could talk in the car. Instead she stuffed those damned things in her ears, cranked up the volume and experienced her own private rave in her head all the way here, inflicting the excruciating sufferance of a tinny second-hand beat on him for the entire journey.
“India, about last night,” Colt said.
“What I do in my own time is none of your business.”
“It is if it affects your work,” he said, sure that last night she was high as a kite on something.
She stared at him with cold eyes. “Has it affected yours?”
He stared back. Last night had been insane; he’d seriously over stepped the mark. They both had. The faint petrol-blue mark seeping across his cheek was warranted, but it wasn't a patch on the bruise his ego was suffering. A least he hadn’t hit the deck. Colt reckoned a punch like that would put most blokes on their arse.
“Detectives, we're ready for you now,” a woman said, emerging from behind the security coded door, ending their awkward conversation before it had even begun.
Colt couldn’t help but admire India Kane’s rear end as he followed her into the interview room where Caroline Connor sat in a pale-pink corduroy armchair, the belt of her clinical white cotton robe tied with ferocity. She was flanked on either side by a female police officer and a rape crisis counsellor, occupying matching armchairs. The pastel shaded walls, interspersed with abstract floral paintings, and the soft lighting failed in their intent to soothe. No amount of soothing décor could ever make this a pleasant place to find yourself.
“Caroline, I'm India Kane and this is Detective Chief Inspector Colt.” Her voice gentle, he was thankful she'd taken the lead. “We'd like to talk with you if that's okay. Are you happy for him to sit in Caroline?” India asked.
Colt cringed, he'd been so eager to get here it hadn't crossed his mind she might not want a man anywhere near her. Caroline Connor gave a small nod, her attention focused intently on the loose thread of the dressing gown sleeve her fingers toyed with.
The female police officer stood, extending her hand. “I'm Constable Rachel Wise, and this is Counsellor Linda Gordon. Please take a seat.”
The available two-seater settee looked comfortably designed with two midgets in mind. If India felt any discomfort today, with his broad thigh wedged against hers, she didn't show it. Again, he was thankful. For the first time in his life he felt uncomfortable in his own skin, ashamed to be a man. He needed to put that right.
“If at any time you want to stop, you just say the word. You're calling the shots here, Caroline. There's no pressure and no rush,” India said. “Let's go back to what you did yesterday, from the moment you woke up. How about you talk us through your day, leave nothing out however minor or insignificant it may seem. Take your time.”
“I dropped my daughter off at school in the morning and then went on to work.”
“Is that a standard Thursday, Caroline?”
Caroline Connor nodded. “Her father picks her up from school every Thursday and she stays with him until Sunday afternoon.”
“How old is your daughter?”
“Holly’s just turned sixteen. Her dad and I split a couple of years back, we share her care.”
“So things are amicable?”
“As amicable as they can be when your husband takes over Daddy’s company and one of the perks is a fit and firm PA. The joke is he used my business management skills to grow the bloody company in the first place, and then left me high and dry with no job, no qualifications and a teenager to raise on my own.” She shrugged. “There was no way I was going cap in hand to him and his strumpet, the least he could do was look after Holly while I made my own money and got a life.”
“So you went straight to work from dropping Holly at school?” India said, and Caroline nodded. “Where do you work?”
“The Electrical World Superstore on the Eastern Retail Park,” she said. “They took me on as a temp last Christmas and I’ve been there ever since. I only work on the checkouts, nothing special, but it pays the bills.”
“Was there anything different or unusual about work that day?”
Colt silently watched Caroline melt into the armchair a little as India put her back in control. Her memory was patchy about the events of the previous day. Occasionally her eyes became teary as her brain struggled to drag details from the empty black holes in her mind. Each time she seized, India calmed and moved her on, giving her the gift of empowerment with every new minuscule recollection.
“I finished work at seven, and drove to my evening class at the college.”
“What class are you doing?”
“Applied Psychology. I dropped out of a Business Management degree to have Holly, but my ex has ruined that. I wanted my daughter to know that women have power too.” Caroline let out a small embittered laugh. “Two years I’ve spent writing a thesis exploring how men feed off of women, stealing their power, and here I am again. Powerless.”
“Someone can only steal your power if you let them, Caroline,” India said. “I’d like to read your thesis sometime.”
The two women held each other’s eyes sharing a quiet moment of understanding. Something was passing between them that needed no words, and it left Colt feeling more than a little disconcerted. He cleared his throat. India gave a subtle nod and carried on her interview when Caroline briefly glanced his way. “Tell me about the journey to the college, Caroline. Did you go straight there or did you stop anywhere?”
“The class starts at seven-thirty so there’s never much time. I always stop off at the ring road services and grab a sandwich and bottle of coke on the way, only I don’t remember if I did or not last night.”
Colt shifted in his seat as her recollection of events became totally disjointed and muddled. There was no memory of the lesson or of the short journey home. Her car was in its rightful place outside her house this morning, making it highly probable the attacker was in her car or class – if she made it there. He sent a discreet text to
Tom Dwyer, directing him and Lee Sangrin to check the service station, college, and car, once they’d finished at her house.
“You're doing great, Caroline, what’s the next thing you remember?” India's voice was placid and soothing, coaxing her to carry on and tell them about him.
“I was awake but I was too afraid to open my eyes,” she whispered. “I saw the news. I thought he was going to kill me too. I feel so ashamed, how could I just lie there and not fight back?” It felt like a giant fist had just gripped Colt’s heart, and now it was twisting. That fear probably saved her life.
“You made the right choice, Caroline. What you did took immense courage and bravery,” India said. “I need you to trust me now, Caroline, really trust me. I want you to go back there, back to that point. Take a deep breath, close your eyes, and tell me what you remember.”
Caroline visibly tensed, anguish and fear hollowing her eyes further. Colt held his breath. India had just played a very dangerous card in a high stakes game, and if she’d called it wrong the victim would shut down and critical information would be lost.
“Do you think you can do that, Caroline? I'll be there with you every step of the way I promise.” India gestured to the female police officer and they switched seats, enabling her to still Caroline's trembling hands in her own as she closed her eyes.
“Where are you, Caroline?” India softly said.
“My bedroom.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I can smell the plugin air freshener.”
“Take your time,” India soothed. “Breathe deep, Caroline, what else can you smell?”
“His breath on my face, cigarettes, and whisky. No, it's not that.” She pursed her lips together in frustration, Colt watched her nostrils flare. “I can smell Jack Daniels and something else . . . like, Dettol or something.”
“What else?” India pushed.
“I can't breathe. He's on top of me. Heavy.” The pulse in her throat increased and her breathing showed the first signs of panic. Colt glanced at India – she was showing no signs of stopping. He wished she would. Knew she was trained, but there was no guarantee her judgement wasn't still impaired.
“You're completely safe,” India continued, stroking her trembling hand. “Take the power back, Caroline, tell me what you can feel.”
Colt was just about to step in when Caroline’s tear streaked face contorted with disgust. “His face is smooth against my chest, and his stomach is hard against mine. It feels scratchy. Like stubble. His zip is digging in my thigh. And something warm, rustling like plastic. I don’t want to die,” she cried out. Colt fought the overwhelming urge to run from the room as his jaw clamped tight.
“It’s ok,” India soothed. “No one’s going to hurt you, you’re safe. You’re taking the power back. Can you remember anything else, Caroline?”
She took a deep breathe, her eyes darted frantically behind her lids before they abruptly opened and she re-joined them in the here and now. “He said my name.”
“I don't get why we all had to travel up here,” Sangrin said, aggressively overtaking a moped in the unmarked car. “Couldn't Basingstoke plod be trusted to take a statement and send it over, or what?”
“We are leading the case, Lee,” Tom snapped. Stop driving like a twat, he thought. Sangrin was already getting under his skin and they’d only left the service station five minutes ago. It was going to be a very long journey back to base.
“Yeah, but Colt and the Ice Maiden could’ve visited the scene as well. I mean, it's not gonna take more than thirty seconds to interview the vic, is it? If she was drugged she'll remember absolutely jack shit like all the rest. They’ve probably been sitting in the pub for the last couple of hours, texting orders.”
Tom gazed out the window and thought of his wife, was glad she was feeling better when he phoned at lunchtime, it sounded like a twenty-four hour bug thing. He could do without that at the moment, being paired with Sangrin was already enough to give him the shits.
Lee had been without his own mentor for the past six weeks. The DI got stabbed in the leg by a dealer they'd been investigating. Some circles blamed Sangrin's gung-ho attitude during the arrest for his injuries. Bryan Symond’s wife certainly did, she was very vocal in her criticism of him rushing in without waiting for the armed back up to arrive, leaving her husband with no option but to follow. “Any idea when Bry’s back to work, yet?” Tom asked. Please let it be soon, he thought.
“Nah, not yet. Chances are he'll get pensioned off what with his crazy missus an’ all,” Lee said, pushing the speedo up to three figures. “Anyway, ding dong the witch ain’t dead, mate – she'll be all yours again tomorrow. The Shagmeister won't put up with that miserable cow for long. You gonna miss me?”
Quite the contrary, Tom thought. He was attempting to establish how long he was going to have to deal with the runt. The way the case was unfolding and the dynamics meant it likely India would be with Colt for the long haul. “Something like that, Lee. But I get the feeling we’re going to be stuck together for the foreseeable.”
“I bloody hope not,” Lee cried. “Nothing personal, mate, but I was hoping that Lucy chick would transfer full time. I reckon I could be in there.”
In your bloody dreams. Tom closed his eyes, the scarce red and brown fleeting shades of hedgerow calling him to sleep.
“You can't sleep, mate.” The words came loud and sharp like Sangrin had shouted them through a megaphone. “I need you to keep me awake. I pulled the new barmaid at The Nag’s last night and didn't get a lot of shut eye, if you know what I mean.” He added a wink for effect. Tom stared at him trying to work out what the hell all these women saw in him. If it was the curly blonde one that served them the other night, Lee was punching well above his weight.
“This has got to be the most boring stretch of road in the country.” Lee's mouth gaped open in a noisy yawn. “Why can't our perv just stay in one place? Twice we've been dragged up this track lately, there's not even a crusty protester to break up the boredom anymore.”
Tom studied him with a furrowed brow as took out his notebook. “Have you got a map in here?”
“Yeah, but it's in the boot.”
“Then pull over.”
“Mate, I know where we’re going. We'll be back at the office in forty-five minutes, can’t it wait?”
“No it can’t,” Tom said, spotting a blue sign up ahead. “There’s a layby up here, pull in. I’ll even pay for the tea.”
Tom was busily drawing all over the map when Lee returned from the burger wagon with a polystyrene cup in each hand. “Oh, mate, do you have to do that in pen. It's the only map I've got.”
“I'll get you another one,” Tom said. “Go and have a fag or something I need a couple of minute’s peace.”
When he’d finished, Tom sat back in his seat smiling. He honked the horn to get Lee's attention, and shook his head as he flicked his lit cigarette butt in the direction of the dual carriageway and blew a lungful of smoke rings all the way back to the car.
Tom held the vandalised map up to him as he slid behind the wheel. “What does that tell you?”
Sangrin drew in a sharp breath before confirming his colleague’s suspicion. “The A34 corridor is his hunting ground.”
“You were really good in there,” Colt said, driving out of the hospital.
India sighed. “I'm trained.”
“No, it was more than that,” he said. “You had a real affinity with her. What was all that stuff about power?”
“It’s what men do,” India said, pulling out her phone and checking her messages. Nothing. She hadn’t heard from Gray all day and it was the wedding tomorrow.
Colt frowned. “What? Steal power from women?”
India nodded absently. “That’s the game,” she murmured, wondering if she should send Gray a text to check if he was all right. He’d had his own shock last night, found his fiancé with her tongue stuck down some other bloke’s throat. He was big on monogamy, a
bit traditional and stuck in his ways. India knew he'd view it as cheating instead of a last hurrah. Forever was what he wanted. Forever was a long time. In India's world one night was plenty long enough.
“You should tell my ex-wife that,” Colt said. “She’s been playing the game all wrong.”
India stared at him blankly, had absolutely no idea what he was going on about. “Anything else?” she said. When he smiled wryly and slowly shook his head she pressed her earphones in and switched on her iPod.
Chapter 28
Colt watched Tom and Lee press the last of the coloured pins into the wall map. The red line of the A34 blazed a clear trail central to all of the counties that attacks had occurred in. “Great work you two,” he said. “Well done.”
“Why wasn't this apparent before?” Veronica queried.
“Because of his attack patterns,” Lacey said. “One county at a time, he's inadvertently revealed his location.”
Veronica sighed and rubbed at her eyes. “And where is that, Dr Fox?”
“Somewhere between here and Oxford, Miss CPS,” Lacey snapped sarcastically. “If we were looking at random attacks I'd base him central to the spread, Newbury ish. But this isn’t random, and he breaks all the rules.”
Tom frowned and dropped into a seat, barely disguising his irritation. “You still think these attacks aren't random?”
“They're not random,” Lacey replied firmly. “He's gone to way too much trouble for that.”
“Whatever,” Lee said, patting Tom’s shoulder as he pulled out his chair. “My money’s on him being a trucker or delivery driver that uses the A34.”
“If that were the case they'd be scattered – one in Hampshire, one in Oxford, another attack in Hampshire,” Lacey said, unfazed by their growing hostility. “And he'd be hitting them over the head with a brick.”
