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.
As he talked I listened with disbelief that he could say these things and hear it in his own ears, but not hear it as it was.
The relationship had a slow start. Their friendship blossomed but their becoming closer was a slow burner and Benn had worked hard to gain her trust. Talking, intimate chats, smiles and knowing looks. She had laughed as he started to take photos. He’d told her they were memories for her mum. He played on her vulnerabilities and her need to be loved. He said the photographs would be there when her mum was ready to look at them so no matter what she missed in her drunken stupors, she would always have the memories because he, Colin Benn, was there to give her this gift. She enjoyed her time with him, she was comfortable with the photographs and one thing led to another and the natural progression was the removal of clothes for the photographs. She was beautiful. She recognised this and she revelled in it. She loved the attention he gave her. They complemented each other. He was kind to her and gentle and in return she gave herself to him. He began to love her. He didn’t feel bad for Natalie. Natalie brought it all on herself. She didn’t deserve him and she didn’t deserve a beautiful daughter like Allison.
Benn was animated when he spoke of his relationship with Allison. He believed it had grown into a full relationship. But when it started to break down, he turned to the internet. He needed someone to talk to. We understood didn’t we? He needed to talk and he knew people wouldn’t understand, they would judge and be critical, so he searched for people who would understand and would help him rebuild the failing relationship. He said it took a few false starts. There were a lot of nasty people online. He wanted to talk about his love and his relationship. Some people wanted to exploit it and poison it, they wanted to meet him and for him to bring Allison. He was disgusted. Allison was his.
Eventually he found someone who understood it for what it was and introduced him to a group of like-minded people. He felt validated. Relieved. At home.
The next part of the interview didn’t prove to be any easier. Even Corinne Selby appeared to flag. Aaron, on the other hand, looked as though he’d just arrived at work. His tie was still neat, unlike most of the team who couldn’t even tie them correctly in a morning, never mind all this way into a long shift.
Benn went on to disclose conversations with his new friends that had gone on long into the nights. Many days and weeks passed, with interests shared and thoughts explored. Eventually, one of his new-found friends broached the subject of bondage and how it brought an extra thrill to relationships. If done properly it would benefit both concerned. The friend shared his own photographs and Benn nearly exploded right there in the interview room as he talked. I wanted to punch him. And hard. Him and his prissy little solicitor. But at this point even she had gone an odd shade of yellow. I fidgeted with my cup, banging it on the table as I moved it around. Benn was so caught up in his own story he didn’t notice and his solicitor looked pleased for the distraction.
The small interview room felt smaller, looked dingier and smelled sourer.
After the first photographs were shared others in the group shared and soon Benn found himself desperate to join in but reticent to involve Allison. This was when it was suggested he be provided with someone. As long as he gave the group what they needed, he could take what he wanted from the girl. He was encouraged, the sharing of the images the nightly norm.
He had to drive to collect her. They met in a park in the early hours when there would be little chance of anyone being about. Even the local cops would be sat in their nice warm stations, too cosy with their TVs and takeaways to monitor a children’s park, so he was told. There, a girl was passed to him, from one trunk of a car to his. She wore only underwear and was wrapped in a blanket. Her hands were bound in front of her with rope you’d find in a garage. She was floppy and mumbled incoherently as she was handled. He made it back before it began to get light and transferred her to his house, making sure he kept her wrapped in the blanket. Once in the house he kept the bindings on so he wouldn’t lose her and put a strip of silver electrical tape over her mouth. He didn’t want her to start screaming and alert the neighbours. The walls were pretty thin, but she didn’t seem capable of making such a noise, she seemed so out of it. He then tied her wrists to the bottom of the radiator and got some sleep. It had been a long night for him.
The interview felt never ending. We took another break; I spoke with Catherine Walker and obtained the extension we needed to keep questioning him. Grey and I then discussed the updated press release. My body hurt and I was tired. I called Ethan. He picked up on the first ring.
“Detective Inspector Hannah Robbins, what can I do for you?”
“Come round to mine later when I get off work?”
“I can do that. How are things?”
“Pretty grim and I need some relief from it.”
“Relief I can do, and very well.”
I felt myself blush. I wasn’t usually so forward with wanting time with Ethan, afraid of rejection, but I was feeling reckless. “It’s going to be a late one here, is that okay with you?”
Ethan didn’t have a key. The relationship was far too new, which meant he had to sit and wait for my call before he came over.
“It’s fine. I’m all yours, no matter what time it is.”
“Great. Fetch a bottle of wine?”
“And my toothbrush?”
“Yes, and your toothbrush.” I propped my head in my hands, feeling heavy. I needed to finish this and go home. “I’ll see you later.”
With my evening planned I walked through to see Evie, who was turning off her lights and heading out the door.
“Hey. How’s it going?” she asked.
“Disturbing,” I replied.
She flicked the switch and the office space lit back up. “You obviously need to talk to me. What can I do?”
“Thanks, Evie.” I pulled at a chair and sat down. “An image has been located on Benn’s computer that DIU are saying is only a couple of days old.”
“Right. What’s the image?”
“Another girl. In a cage.”
She didn’t say a word; she just continued to look at me. The strip lighting glinted off her lenses, making it difficult to see the thoughts play across her eyes.
“I need you to work with DIU and the National Missing Persons Bureau to see if we can identify her and get to her before we end up with another death. I’m still in with Benn. It’s taking some time. He may give us what we need, but if he doesn’t, I’ll take all the help I can get. She’s so small, Evie. We need to get to her.”
Evie nodded. Not a word passed her lips.
55
A sense of horror was unfolding within me and in front of me as Benn told the final part of his involvement with Rosie and Allison. His solicitor now looked sick and completely out of her comfort zone. Her smart appearance took on a look of exhausted dishevelment without a crease having appeared on her immaculately pressed suit. Her hands had obviously been busy, both running through her hair, and rubbing her face. Her eyes looked less sharp and outlined, and all her pouty lip glossiness had disappeared. Her curls had less bounce and were now pushed behind her ears. Everything in the room had a feeling like nothing really mattered any more, other than the atrocities being spun by Benn. He continued.
When he woke he had felt lost and confused when he saw the girl. The girl who had been delivered like a local Chinese takeaway. He knew he had to keep Allison out of the house until he figured out
what to do with her. He texted her, as was usual, and wished her a good day at school and said he couldn’t see her until the next day. Then he turned his attention to the girl tied to his radiator.
He hadn’t looked at her properly the previous night, but now in the cold light of the morning he could see she had already been used up by whoever had given her to him. She was bruised and thin. She carried a look he didn’t recognise. A tired fear. He tried to be nice to her. She needed someone to love her now, didn’t she? So he released her wrists and loved her, then left her tied to the radiator again as he took a walk to clear his head.
When he talked to his new friends, photographs were demanded. Payment for the delivery. He felt cornered. What else was he supposed to do? He had this girl, she was tired and injured, and they knew what he looked like, knew his car details. They could turn on him and turn him in. He had to do as they asked, didn’t he? He was out of choices. That night he did the things they wanted and photographed them. The girl was weak and already hurt. She couldn’t take the belt for long. She left him. Just died there on his floor as his camera sent the images to the group waiting for them. He felt shocked, but something within him shook and bucked and he also felt more alive than he ever had. He knew he had to dispose of her and get rid of the evidence. The photographs weren’t evidence though, so he could keep them. No one would stumble on them. It was a group of friends sharing an interest. He needed them. They helped make him feel alive. Keeping the images without the girl was okay. The girl would get him into trouble. He wasn’t stupid, he had to get rid of her. So in the darkness he took her out and after driving around attempting to think of what to do, he stopped at the next alleyway he passed and left her there. The shadows unnerved him and made him feel watched so he pushed on the bin to cover her and he left. He didn’t know how far he’d driven or if he’d driven around in circles. He just wanted her out of his car and out of his life.
Allison was an accident. Loving gone that step too far. The thrill of what had happened with the girl still vivid and alive in his veins. He hadn’t wanted it to happen. He wasn’t a monster. He loved Allison. We had to believe him. He was jittery about Natalie, and about what she would be able to see in him, so he decided to visit her. The house was quiet. Allison was upstairs with the door unlocked. He let himself in. Everything felt strange. Disturbed. A hyper awareness was steamrollering through him and the smells and colours in the house were overbearing. He shouted for Allison. She came down the stairs and stood in front of him, arms by her sides, hair loose around her shoulders. She never said a word. Now he didn’t know how to talk to her. Not after the girl the night before had given up on him. Stupid girl. It felt tainted with Allison. No longer pure and sweet. She looked him in the eye. He was losing her. She was slipping away from him. So, with the memory of the thrill from the previous night, he decided he was going to take Allison to that special place. Take her to the edge and watch her come alive again. Rebirth their relationship. Right there in the kitchen. He asked where her mum was and was told she was in the pub. This was his time. He had to take it now. He could feel the house around him and he wanted Allison there with him. He got to work as she watched, bringing in from the car his tow rope and camera. She still never said a word. He hooked up his camera and set it on the worktop. Then he set to work, to bring life back to his relationship.
She resisted, like she’d resisted nothing else in her life. He didn’t understand it. She was fighting as he was coming alive. He bound her wrists with rope from the car to keep her still. He felt the electricity of life flowing through him. The hard edge of the world was fading and narrowing. He was growing and growing. Allison fading. The fight started to ebb and the feeling of euphoria with it. He pulled harder on the belt, pulling to save his life. The camera in the corner forgotten, the energy of life his aim. He pulled and pulled, harder and harder. It was euphoric.
She was gone.
56
The toilet bowl smelled pretty much as you’d expect a toilet to smell after a day of workers had passed through. My insides heaved hard against themselves. Great big angry spasms. I clung to the edge of the bowl and dropped to my knees as my energy seeped away. The hair I’d tied back fell forward and rested on my cheek.
I knew we had him now. We’d taken an evil from the streets, but was this job taking something from me? Why did I choose to put myself down here with the pit of humanity? Who exactly was I saving? The kids? We would never be able to work hard enough to remove this scourge. No matter what we did they would always exist to prey on the young and vulnerable. The internet had created a perfect space for a predator’s playground. A place to both meet the vulnerable and to meet others to share the filth. There was no way we could get on top of it. Did I really make a difference or was this all just to bolster my own flailing self-esteem? An honest question that shook me down even further and I slipped from my knees, down to my bottom as the heaving subsided. I rested back on to the wall of the toilet stall, tears from retching drying on my cheeks. I didn’t have an answer, just a feeling of weariness. A feeling that it was all a pointless exercise and I wasn’t able to help anyone. As my head dropped down towards my knees I closed my eyes. An image flashed before me. The girl in the cage, eyes downcast. A reason. A reason to drag myself from the toilet floor and keep going. A child locked in a cage and we were close to getting answers, to finding her and recovering her from a living hell. Whatever the reason I or any cop puts themselves through this, there is a definite purpose. I picked myself up.
The interview continued. I’d splashed freezing water from the tap over my face and armed myself with a fresh cup of green tea. Aaron sat steadfastly unperturbed, his tie and his back straight. Benn’s solicitor looked as tired as I felt. She’d made no attempt to stop his free flowing verbal account. She sat in silence as he let it all go.
When he dried up I plugged the laptop into the socket in the wall. Benn’s eyes widened and his body pushed back into his chair. An automatic response of flight without the ability to go anywhere. He had thought he understood what we’d found but I doubted he wanted to be confronted with it. His solicitor gave me a tired questioning look I interpreted as “what, more?” I pressed the power button and the screen loaded. Inputting the password I turned the screen so Benn and Miss Selby could see it. Then I opened the file on the desktop. It loaded with the image of the girl in the cage.
“Who is this?” I asked.
Finally he understood. The realisation that we wanted to know who his fellow offenders were, dawned. I watched several emotions play out across his face as he looked from the image to Aaron and me, then to his solicitor. She looked back at him with no answers and nowhere to go. “I don’t know. Really I don’t.” The pleading tone again. The need for us to believe him, as though it would make the process easier for him.
“Where is she, Colin?” I wasn’t about to let him escape this one.
He wriggled in his seat. His face flushed. “I don’t know. They never tell me anything. I swear to God they don’t.”
Something in me believed him but I needed to know. We needed to progress this. “The photograph was taken two days ago. This child was alive two days ago. You expect me to believe you don’t know where she is?”
“If I knew I’d tell you. I’ve told you everything else haven’t I?” he whined.
I pushed him further and harder. He refused to give up his instant messaging username or those of the others in his group. He held his ground and then he wept for Allison.
57
Sally perched on the end of the bed absently crinkling the fabric of the duvet cover between her fingers. She had been released from the hospital a day earlier than expected but nerves were eating at her. Tom paced like a tiger stalking his prey. The confines of the room in their suburban semi restricted his strides and made the pacing erratic. It made her anxious. She understood his reasons. She even knew he was right. But she felt driven to return to work on full duties and that meant keeping the pregnancy
a secret.
She’d received a call from Ross earlier in the day. He’d phoned to tell her they’d made an arrest. He was ecstatic and thought Sally would be pleased. Instead she was hurt and angry. He’d remembered to ask how she was and Sally told him she was fine and couldn’t wait to be back. It was true, she couldn’t wait, but she had wanted to be there when they brought him in. She had wanted to look in his face when he knew he’d been caught. She had wanted the buzz of the incident room and to have had a part to play in such a large and now, it would seem, successful operation. The difficulty was getting Tom to understand any of this. He wasn’t a cop. He didn’t understand the drive to bring serious offenders in. He thought he understood the horror of the offences, but she knew she would never be able to convey the emotion involved. Tonight she had to try. She had to convince him she knew what she was doing. Enough for him to acquiesce to her return to work with his blessing, and return with full duties. Just until this job was finalised.
“Tom?”
“What do you want me to say, Sally? That it’s okay to go back to work and not tell a soul you’re pregnant? To be around disgusting, filthy paedophile bastards with my baby, and it be okay?”
Sally sighed quietly to herself.
“It’s only short term, Tom. Until this job is finished. He’s not going anywhere and I won’t be alone with him.”
“But I worry about you, don’t you get it? I worry about you, both of you. You should be taking some time off after the explosion.”
The DI Hannah Robbins Series: Books 1 - 3 (Boxset) (Detective Hannah Robbins Crime Series) Page 15
