The DI Hannah Robbins Series: Books 1 - 3 (Boxset) (Detective Hannah Robbins Crime Series)

by Rebecca Bradley

  21

  At her desk, Sally put her mug down, woke the monitor and logged back on. But she just stared at whatever it was that she had last been working on. She had let Hannah down. She could see it in her face. The disappointment. Disappointment. It’s one of the hardest of emotions to deal with. Anger, pity, hurt, you can deal with those in some way, but disappointment means you’ve been held in some previously higher regard and you, no-one but you, did anything to lower that regard. And now Hannah was disappointed because she hadn’t volunteered to go to Norwich. Not only had she not volunteered, but she’d made it clear she didn’t want to go.

  She was usually the first to volunteer for jobs no matter what they were. She knew that and she knew she wasn’t being a team player right now and it grieved her that she couldn’t tell them why. Would they understand if they knew? She wasn’t sure, which was why she hadn’t confided in anyone. Ross was sweet but he was young. Juvenile. If tested, he could feel his loyalty was to his supervisors and the right thing to do in this situation was to tell them. Martin, she could probably tell. He was Mr calm and reasonable, so he would probably advise her to talk to Hannah herself and she wasn’t ready.

  There was no way she could go to Norwich. How could she explain it to Tom? A normally placid guy, but he was losing patience lately and they had been butting heads. If Martin hadn’t volunteered and she’d been chosen for the job she might have had to come clean and that was the last thing she wanted to do. Not yet anyway. She still had some time. Time to work things out before speaking to the bosses.

  22

  A couple of hours later, after answering and dealing with a ridiculous amount of emails, sending one in particular to Evie requesting she research the social networking sites for any sign of Rosie, I left the office and went home.

  My apartment was as I’d left it: A cup face-down on the drainer, local papers across the small wooden coffee table along with a book I was reading. I pulled the stopper from the bottle of red, already opened on the kitchen worktop, and poured a generous sized glass. In my bedroom, I stripped, pulled on my lazy jerseys and then sat on the sofa with my knees up. The day drained away as I relaxed. The last couple of days seemed to have merged into one long one, but this was usual on the first few days of a murder inquiry. I took a deep glug of red and dropped my head, resting it on the back of the sofa. Tucking my feet under myself I lay quiet for a while, the glass I was holding resting on the arm of the sofa.

  Time slipped silently past and the tension started to ease. The doorbell chime broke into the peace. Tinkling like broken glass. High and tight. I took another drink of wine before putting it down on the table and walked to the door. Ethan’s head and shoulders were pixelated in the security monitor. I buzzed him in.

  “Hey.” He paused before walking in. I ran a hand through my hair. I knew I looked like shit but he didn’t comment, instead he took hold of me by my shoulders and pulled me towards him, his finger ends tight in my back. I couldn’t help it, no matter how mad I was with him; I loved the feel of him around me and now seemed like a great time to succumb to that feeling. I allowed myself to be propelled forward and let my head rest on his chest. I breathed in his scent. Fresh and soapy. Clean. His arms were strong around me, his face touched the top of my head and I heard him breathe deep.

  “Ethan, it’s been rough.”

  His arms wrapped around my back, one hand held my head and he pulled me closer still. I felt him against me. I shifted my weight into him.

  “I’ve missed you, Han.” His voice caught in his throat as he murmured into my hair. Something stirred inside me and I turned my face up to him, his lips parting. There was a lingering taste of mint. His breath warm. I raised myself up on my toes to meet his need. I felt the soft jersey of my tee slide across my skin as it was pulled from around my waist and over my head. My hands clamoured to be free as they caught in the material. I shook with excitement. A deep need throbbing inside. I pulled at his T-shirt, desperate to remove it from him, to feel his naked flesh against mine. Our feet tripping as we side-stepped towards the bedroom, mouths locked together in a deep hunger. My breath came thick and fast. I needed to feel his warmth, his hard body with mine. I needed to fill the chasm that had opened within me, and I needed Ethan. His mouth found the curve in my neck, his kisses deep and urgent. I had never needed him more. A sound escaped from my lips. He moved and silenced me with his mouth on mine again. Reaching down for his belt, my hands worked the buckle and pulled it loose. We fell on the bed. We made love as though we had been apart for so long, desperately craving and desperately pushing for what we needed.

  Resting in the crook of his arm, I turned my face towards Ethan as he lay open and relaxed. “Why are you here?” I asked.

  “Why? What’s wrong?”

  “Us. This.” I waved an arm over our tangled bodies. “I don’t know...” the sentence trailed off.

  “We’re good together, can’t we go with it?”

  The needy girlfriend? Is that what I was to become. I wasn’t that person. Pulling myself up and out of his arms, I got out of bed and placed bare feet onto cold wooden flooring, padded over to where I left my wine in the living room, grabbed another glass and the bottle from the kitchen and returned. I filled the fresh glass for Ethan and passed it to him, leaving the bottle on the worn antique pine drawers near the door.

  “Thanks.”

  I drank before speaking. “Sometimes I need to be able to reach out to you, you know.” I paused. “When it’s tough.”

  “I’m sorry about the other day, busy myself, you kind of cut me off when I did call, so I figured you wanted to get on with your case.” He drank. I had cut him off. “How’s it going?”

  I shouldn’t talk to Ethan about the cases I was working, but at times I’d seen him access more information than I had and a lot quicker. As police, we could find evidence, forensics, but with Ethan, people were willing to talk to him, people who wouldn’t give a cop the time of day, so on this premise, I decided to see if we could talk about it. And try and do it without landing either of us in the shit.

  “You’ve heard about the murdered girl?” I started.

  “Of course, though your press office is being tight lipped about it.”

  “I know. The top brass are worried about the headlines if we don’t identify and arrest an offender within a couple of days. Children are a completely different arena. People get anxious, they clamour for justice, they want to know whose fault it is, how it happened, and they worry about their kids. It’s tough.”

  “So what is happening?”

  Pushing myself further on the bed I rested back against the slatted headboard, knees bent. “If I talk to you about this, in return you give me what you’ve got before going to print?”

  “You know it’s how I work, I need a good angle to run a story, not just what your media liaison sees fit to share.”

  I nodded. He smiled and leaned closer in to me. A smile that earned trust. A smile that was practised maybe. I relented. We needed help with this and I was willing to take what I could get. No one else should have to suffer as Rosie Green had, and no parent should have to live through it as George and Anne Green were. An image of the light fading from their eyes flashed in front of me. I was right to go with this, with Ethan. I’d sort any crap that came from it later. I took a deep breath.

  “Okay. We know the scene we found the girl in was a dump site, not the original crime scene. We’ve had the official identification today and she’s a teenager from another force area. It’s a strange one, Ethan, I’ve no idea how she ended up here, forensics won’t start coming back for a couple of days and friends of the girl don’t appear to know much. The info about the dump site and crime scene isn’t in the public domain yet,” I concluded. “Now you have to give me what you’ve got.” I took another drink of the red as I waited on Ethan.

  He sighed. “The angle is the girl herself. I’d already started to have my own suspicions about her not being local as everyone
I’ve spoken with has drawn a blank on who it could be. We’re waiting for you to release her photo so we can talk to more people. Now that group of people we need to talk to will be further afield, but she was still found here, so someone here must know who she is. When is her photograph being released?”

  “Parents have been up today and identified her. Grey was sorting out the press release with Claire as I left the office. I want you to contact me if you get anything useful, Ethan.” I looked at him, narrowing my eyes, letting him know I was serious. “This one, as I’ve already said, is sensitive, you can’t go barging in and printing details we don’t want releasing.”

  Ethan dropped his chin and raised his eyes at me. “Han?”

  “Okay, but take it easy.” He needed to be sensitive to our case. To my case. This was important. I worried what would happen if there was a choice between his career and mine. We weren’t in what either of us would call a settled relationship; I think we’d just established that. We rarely spoke about the serious issues or about how we were feeling and I was as guilty of this as he was. It was easier to take the ride. There was a closeness though, something there, but I struggled with the issue of trust. It was something that needed to be worked through.

  The last of the wine was drained and I lay back on the bed and looked at Ethan. His arms were crossed behind his head, a relaxed stance, comfortable. A body language of trust. I needed to trust him, I was starting to care. I nudged my head back into the crook of his arm and closed my eyes. Images danced in front of them. Distorted children with trash and hospital mortuaries. All blending together.

  23

  The incident room was quiet and still. Like an early morning pond before the wildlife wakes and creates the ripples and sound that fills their day. I’d raised myself from an empty bed again. Nothing had changed.

  I searched out Grey, who kept longer hours than anyone, including me. He was sharp as far as keeping on top of things went. He’d be aware of every angle of the ongoing investigation, every progress made and every step in the planning. He was meticulous and organised. A climber.

  He was at his desk, squinting, eyebrows tucked down as he read from his computer monitor.

  “Morning, sir,” I said from the doorway.

  “Morning, Hannah.” He waved a hand at the chair in front of his desk. “Come in.”

  I sat opposite him and watched as he finished reading. The small lines running across his forehead looked like ripples in the sand after a heavy storm. He looked up.

  “What’s the current status?”

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. “Sorry, sir, let me just check this.” Grey nodded and went back to his work. I fished it out and checked the screen. Caller withheld. “Robbins.”

  Silence.

  “Hello. DI Robbins.”

  Silence.

  The lit screen showed that the call was still open. Grey watched. I said hello to the caller once more before hanging up and moving on.

  “Rosie Green has been identified by her parents. It gives us something to work with. I’m holding a team briefing this morning and I’m going to push forensics to see where they’re at.”

  Grey’s eyes narrowed. We both knew forensic science had to be taken in context of any given situation and wasn’t the be all and end all of answers. He was feeling the pressure from the top. The Chief Constable was watching the case. Any negative press on the force was always a blow in these times of accountability. It affected job security and everyone wanted to cover themselves as much as they wanted to do the right thing.

  “We’re putting in the hours, sir. Everyone is giving this everything they have.”

  Grey nodded. These things could take time and time was something the press was reluctant to give a police force in the murder investigation of a child.

  “We need something positive, Hannah. Find out what happened to her.”

  “Now we have the definitive ID we can work on her history, her friends, family, and activities. The DI down there, Clive Tripps, has a good team and they’re doing everything we ask. Add Martin to that, and we are well placed to know everything and have real time input. We’re waiting on a lot of information. The trace evidence from the scene is being processed and you know that’s a painful process. Being dumped in an alleyway with the rubbish isn’t the easiest scene to deal with. DNA results from the semen will take a few days, as will results from under nail scrapings. Work is also being done on the bruising patterns found on her body. The investigation has everything we can throw at it.” Which was a lot considering the economic climate.

  Grey rubbed his forehead, but the sand ripples remained. “What else are we doing, other than waiting on people and results?”

  “Plenty. There are on-going inquiries with the restaurant and banks to identify patrons where the body was found. We’re following up the alibis of sex offenders, local CCTV needs to be gone through at a steady pace and all vehicles identified as well as door knocking. There’s a lot of work and not enough staff as usual, but we’re doing everything we can.”

  “Get this bastard, Hannah, and the sooner the better before the press eats us alive.”

  24

  After updating Grey and checking through more emails that had arrived overnight, I gathered the team in the conference room, a bland rectangular space with several tables pushed together to form a larger table for users to sit around.

  The inquiry team filed in. Aaron looked healthier for a night in his own bed. Sally looked happier, but still a little peaky. Ross, well he looked just like Ross. Jack sauntered in with his steaming mug, muttering under his breath about the lack of full fat milk available. I’d asked Jack, Doug Howell the crime scene tech, and Evie to attend this morning’s meeting. It was best practice to get everyone together so all strands of the investigation could be discussed and nothing missed. Claire Betts walked in with her folder and a couple of pens clipped to it.

  “Morning, Hannah. You going to keep me busy for a while?” she asked.

  “You know me, Claire. I’m not happy unless I’m running around and overworked, so I need someone to join me.” She laughed and sat in a chair, pulling it up to the table, straightening her folder. “I’d be sorry if you didn’t.”

  Grey followed Claire in and was leaning against a wall, his frown lines well excavated. My earlier attempts to reassure him we would deal with this hadn’t hit the right spot.

  The local press had started asking questions of the police investigation. I’d appraised myself of the recent articles and had seen yesterday’s main topic was the lack of identification. Today it would take on a whole different slant and I imagined it would also hit the national press which would put pressure on the local reporters to get in closer. It was after all, their community, plus we would be hit by hard-nosed national journalists. The media would be on a rampage only they could create, and often were unable to stop once they had started the speeding train. I thought of Ethan. He would be working this. The pressure was mounting. Having an identification meant we had somewhere to start looking from. Victimology was a better starting point for the investigation, but it was complicated by Rosie being from so far away.

  I waited for the chatter to die down, then started. “Thanks for coming in. We need all heads on this.” I had their attention. “The operational name has been allocated and is Operation Halyard. We’ll start by looking at what information we already have, assess it and see where we go from there. We’ll start with the crime scene. What did you find Doug?”

  “As we’ve discussed, it doesn’t look like it was the murder scene. The girl was naked which suggests she was dumped in the alley after being murdered elsewhere. The offender had access to the alley from two directions and no CCTV to cover it. Gives the impression of local knowledge.”

  I nodded.

  “It was a terrible site to process. We have so much to go through back at the lab and most of it’s going to be irrelevant so it would be helpful if anyone can help narrow things down. Tell us wha
t needs to take priority and what needs testing specifically. Testing everything is going to cost.” He paused. I saw Ross roll his eyes and I was glad he didn’t make comment. “Also, I’ve brought the scene photos over with me.” He pushed a brown envelope towards me. I touched it with the tips of my fingers and pulled it closer.

  “Thanks, Doug. We’ll give you as much information as and when it comes in.”

  He nodded.

  “On the point of CCTV, how have the house to house inquiries gone and checks for local business CCTV recordings?” I looked at Ross and Sally.

  “No-one saw anything when house to house was conducted,” Sally replied. “There are some addresses that need going back to, but in the main, people are used to a lot of activity around and about there. It’s a city centre. Cars and people come with the territory and the locals are used to it and sleep pretty well through noise and disturbances.”

  “Well, we seemed to wake them up easily.” I was annoyed. It was typical around here. No-one was interested in helping, but they damn well screamed for service if they needed us. “And CCTV?” This time I directed the question to Ross.

  “We’re still working our way through it. A few premises have handed over their recordings, but it’s going to take a while to view it all and I’m planning on taking the premises visits a bit wider than I’ve managed so far. It’s still on-going.”

  “Okay. Jack?”

  He put his mug down in front of him. “You have the preliminary report. Cause of death was asphyxiation. The position she was found in and the lividity present would seem to back up Doug’s assumption she was indeed moved and the alley was a dump site. She was badly beaten prior to death. Some of the bruising indicates on-going abuse weeks before death, not just at the time of death.”