“So what now?” I asked.
“My question to you,” he responded.
Harris perched himself on the desk Aaron had claimed. “He’s going to stop talking. His solicitor is going to advise him to go “no comment” and that’s where we’ll be.”
“Yes,” Aaron accepted.
“So...” I started.
“So?” Harris asked.
“So...” I thought as I spoke. “We don’t wait for his solicitor.”
Silence dropped in the room as this was worked out.
“PACE states if a life is at immediate risk, and waiting for a solicitor hinders, risks that life…” I began.
“…We can continue the interview without the solicitor,” Aaron concluded for me.
“Exactly.”
Harris stood again. “The question now is this: is this girl’s life at immediate risk?”
As Aaron and I stood in the superintendent’s office, surrounded by photographs of what I imagined to be his grandchildren, two boys under five playing on a swing and slide set in a neat garden with smiling faces, the decision was made that the risk to life wasn’t immediate enough. The superintendent, Alan Phelan, leaned back in his chair, crossing his stubby fingers in front of him as he explained. We had known about the girl in the photograph for the past few days and nothing had changed what we knew about. He was at great pains to make sure I understood his reasoning. I contained my anger and paced in small circles in the office space in an attempt to keep a lid on what I felt as I would risk my place on the investigation if I blew up at a super in a foreign force now. After being ripped off the investigation following the explosion, it felt as though Walker was waiting for any excuse to take me off and I wasn’t going to give it to her. My body throbbed, each breath now burning like fire and the inside of my head felt as though someone was tightening a metal vice around it, one twist of a screw at a time.
“I know how badly you want it, Inspector, but you have to understand, my hands are tied.” He unlocked his fingers and linked his wrists together to put meaning to his already frustrating words. “The law is very specific on this, it has to be immediate and I can’t justify this as immediate enough.” His fingers linked back up. “I’m sorry.”
Aaron nodded and ushered me through the glass panelled door. “We have to wait, Hannah. Nothing for it. Look, we’re further along than we’ve been. We could still find her tonight.” He was trying to keep me in check and he was also right.
We grabbed a drink, I took a couple of the pills the hospital had provided and waited for the named solicitor, Marr, to arrive.
It didn’t take as long as expected, but it was long enough. I was wound up and felt as though my head was about to explode. Marr was pleasant enough when he arrived in the custody suite. He looked tired and as though he’d had a long day. His dark hair was ruffled and untidy, but his clothes were smart, his suit jacket buttoned up and his black shoes, polished. He offered instant professionalism, a smile and a handshake, one that was firm but chilled from the night air. I didn’t have time to engage in the usual niceties and I saw my abruptness stop him short a little. We needed to move this along. He put his briefcase down and rubbed his cold hands together.
“Okay, what do we have?” he asked. I handed him Davids’ custody record. A quick read through gave him the facts of arrest. After reading, his eyes met mine with a more solemn look than he’d arrived with. He picked his briefcase back up from the floor. “Are you ready to give disclosure, Detective Inspector?”
“If you come this way, Mr Marr.” I showed him into one of the consultation booths and handed him the written disclosure, outlining the information we required from his client. “I’m sorry,” I said to him, “we don’t have time to go over all the details in this interview. What we need to know are the facts as he knows them. A girl’s life is at risk and if he can help, you know it will go on the file that ends up at court.”
Marr nodded but gave nothing away. He was here to do what was right by his client, no matter his thoughts on it, but I’d given him the facts and I just had to hope that Marr and Davids had it in them to help.
The interview was hopeless. In the end it really did seem that Jesse Davids knew no more than he’d already told us. The drugs had turned his brain into a long endless landscape of nothingness where the only things visible were the landmarks for obtaining the money for the fixes he needed to keep himself going. How he managed to get young girls to fall for him was beyond me, but then I wasn’t a vulnerable teenager with beliefs that no one would love me or that I wasn’t worthy of love.
We left Shaun Harris to finalise their end of the investigation. There was nothing further we could do here. I thanked him and his team and I hoped that I’d not left him being too hard on himself for not picking Jesse Davids up earlier. It was an easy link to have missed. He had his homicide detection already wrapped up. He didn’t need to look further. Howard had given him all he needed for a safe conviction. I didn’t know about Harris beating himself up, I was doing a pretty good job of that on myself. I felt utterly defeated and burned out. I’d pushed myself and everyone else to the limit and for what? We didn’t have anything. We had chased our tails over a single photograph with zero results. The weather reflected my mood perfectly as we drove back to Nottingham. It was dark; the rain was pounding down, lashing the windscreen and bouncing up from the road making visibility difficult. Aaron steadfastly focussed on the road as I sunk in the passenger seat, arms wrapped around my ribs trying to hold it together.
“Have you spoken to Anthony or Catherine?”
“What?”
“Anthony, Catherine. You know, the bosses.”
I stuck the heel of my hand in my eye and rubbed. “No. I’ve had my phone off for the interviews and haven’t turned it back on.” I sighed. It seemed like too much effort. I just wanted to get into bed and stay there for a few days. Instead I leaned into the footwell and rummaged through my bag where I had last thrown my phone as I listened to the persistent and steady squeak of the wipers as they crossed the windscreen. I pushed the button and the screen lit up. I held as it connected, mesmerised as the wipers fought to keep the windscreen clear, oncoming headlights hitting the raindrops and distributing out the glare across the view in front of me.
“Great, twelve missed calls and five voicemails.” I scrolled through the missed calls log, I had seven from Grey and five from withheld numbers, but if anyone called from a work landline, they would display as withheld. I went to the voicemail section and hit the key to listen to my messages. “What’s the betting Anthony is stressing,” I muttered as I waited for it to connect. Aaron nodded, his eyes still focussed on the road ahead.
First new message. Message left at one, fifty-one today. “Hannah, it’s Anthony. Let me know how you’re getting on.”
Second new message. Message left at two o three today. “Han, it’s me.” Ethan. I wasn’t expecting that. He must have called from a work landline himself for it to be a withheld number as I hadn’t seen his number on my missed calls list. I glanced at Aaron and moved the phone to my left ear. “I miss you. Call me.” That’s it. I supposed it was more than I’d given him.
Third new message. Message left at two twenty-seven today. Silence. “Great. Another.” Aaron furrowed his brow.
Fourth new message. Message left at two twenty-nine today. “Please help me. I don’t want to move home again. I don’t want to do this anymore. Don’t let them do this. If we move, she’ll go and then she’ll die like the rest. Please.”
85
I recognised the voice immediately. It was distinctive in its mousey quiet way. The caller that was pleading for my help on the voicemail hours ago was Caroline Manders. The girl I sat and talked to in front of her parents about her missing friend, Rosie Green. The girl who was too afraid to talk without looking for permission from her father. The father I could see controlling her as I sat there and did nothing, and now Caroline was telling me they were leaving. Leaving and ki
lling someone before going. How could I miss this? The thoughts ran through my head at speed as I replayed the message on loudspeaker for Aaron as we parked at the side of the road, orange hazard lights blinking their rhythmic warning. I’d shouted at Aaron to pull the car over and we were docked up on a grass verge. Caroline’s thin voice barely broke through the ticking of the hazards and the beating of the rain as I replayed it yet again.
Any fatigue that had been gnawing away at me was now gone, replaced with a renewed urgency. We had to move and we had to move quickly. I didn’t know what was happening in Norwich as we sat here. There was no way to know if we would, yet again, be too late.
“Phone Ross and get him and Sally travelling, they’ve been in from the start and I want them there when we take this down. Then phone Anthony and fill him in. Ask intelligence to see what they have on the Manders and the address and find out what previous addresses they’ve had.” I shot out directions to Aaron as I scrolled through my phone and dialled out. The call I made was to Clive Tripps.
I briefed Clive of as much as I could considering I didn’t have much of a picture myself at the minute, and he said he would ask his team to stay on until we got there. He said he would also swear out the search warrant with the local magistrates while we travelled to them.
The rain was still coming down hard as we walked from the car. I could see Clive as he ran from the doorway of the police station. He had a paper file over his head, which did nothing to protect him. Water was streaming down his face. Down all our faces. Clive held out his free hand towards me as he reached us. “Hannah, good to see you again. Sorry it’s under these circumstances.”
I shook his hand. Rain ran down my sleeve. “Hi, Clive. Thanks for setting this up so quickly.”
Clive turned back towards the building and we picked up our pace and ran for the door.
Martin was in the incident room. “Looks like we have our man then?”
“It certainly does. Ready to come back once this is done? There’s a ton of work piling up on your desk.” I tried to smile. The tension I felt was too much though and it probably looked like a lopsided grimace.
“Absolutely. Raring to go as always.” A more relaxed easy smile came to Martin’s face. He took everything in his stride.
Clive grabbed a couple of chairs and sat down in the incident room. It seemed he wanted to be out here with his team. I sat in one of the chairs offered. “Glad to hear it.”
I went over what we knew with Clive again, who was as pleasant and accommodating as our previous visit, but with a simmering anger that I knew was probably being directed internally as my own was. This had been a long-winded job, with the senseless deaths of young girls. We had been so close and we had walked away, right out the door.
I called Ross and Sally and briefed them as they continued their drive over. They were making good time and would be with us soon. We were pulling everything together and were not going to take any chances. Nima put a call in to ambulance control and requested an ambulance be put on standby a couple of streets away from the address in the hope that the girl was still there and if she was in need of medical attention, it would be available.
An official briefing was held in the large command briefing room. A bland rectangular room that contained a large oval table and accommodated at least twenty chairs. On a wall at one end of the table was a video conference screen. I could see a couple of cops in uniform sitting in an equally bland room elsewhere in the force and was informed that they were two dog section officers. In the corner of the screen were all the people sat around our table.
The briefing involved Clive’s superintendent, Bruce Graham, the homicide investigation team, including Kev and Nima, and several uniform cops needed for the entry and search team. We couldn’t take any chances. Everyone was made aware of how dangerous these people were and that the priorities were to secure the offender and locate the girl.
Just as the briefing ended, Sally and Ross were shown in. Quick introductions were made and we were ready. We were going to take down this paedophile ring and my gut twisted into knots as I kept hold of the hope that the girl was still alive.
86
The girl stirred from sleep. Her eyelids were heavy and she struggled to remember where she was. A flicker of knowledge moved somewhere within and she sighed. A sigh which would have been deep and from her soul if her now lifeless frame had the energy to dig that far, but instead a small shudder escaped her and another small grasp on hope slipped away. She forced her eyes open. The wires blurred in front of her and the darkness pressed in, almost suffocating. She couldn’t focus and her head screamed. There was a feeling that her eyeballs were being pulled back into her head. Her mouth was dry, her tongue like Velcro against the roof of her mouth. Her eyes closed again. The pain in her head sucked away at her thoughts. She wanted to sleep, to fall into the darkness and leave this pain and isolation. There was a feeling she had lost something but couldn’t bring it to mind. Sleep dragged her down, she couldn’t fight it and she didn’t want to. It was all she had now. Sleep and darkness.
87
The road was quiet other than the sound of the rain on cars and windows. Most of the houses on the street had their curtains closed and lights on. A few were in total darkness. Aaron, Sally, Ross and I were sitting in our car waiting for everyone to pull up. Martin was in a vehicle with Clive, Nima and Kev, and the extra staff required were in a marked van. The dog men were in their cars. We had decided to park at the end of the street and walk the short distance to the house. We didn’t want to alert the occupants of the address to our presence before we were ready. This was going to be risky, making sure we secured the offender and safely located any child that may be present. I was concerned but assured. Aaron looked his usual stoic self with maybe a hint of extra determination set in his face. Sally was in the back of our car, straight in her seat, alert and keen. Her hand touched the tip of the asp – metal extendible baton – tucked into her jeans. Ross, also in the back, looked like an excitable family puppy. The nerves that I so often force down as an officer of rank, Ross as a newly qualified detective still openly showed. He was dressed as most plain clothes cops dress when executing warrants of any description. He had on a scruffy T-shirt hanging over his jeans, where he kept his rigid cuffs in his back pocket and dirty, once white, trainers on his feet. While Ross had managed to make the change into jeans, I still wore a dark suit and sensible flat boots. We were so stereotypical if you chose to look at us.
Everyone had their goals and targets. Aaron and I, along with Clive and Kev would go through the front door with an entry team, while Martin, Sally, Ross and Nima would cover the back door.
We left the cars and took to our pre-agreed positions around the old semi-detached. We wore earpieces on our radios to avoid alerting our presence to anyone with the squawking of commentaries through hand-helds. The earpieces usually annoyed me, but I was so hyped up that I barely noticed it. My focus was on finding this girl here, and finding her still alive. I held onto hope. That hope was now mixed with trepidation and anxiety. I realigned my stab vest and looked at the team by the front door. It was impossible to see what was happening inside the house with all the curtains closed. There was a light on in the front window and another upstairs. I was worried about what was in there and how this would play out. I put my hands to my waist and ran them around my belt, feeling for my kit. Everything was there. We were ready.
88
I took a moment and a deep breath. Time slowed. All eyes were on me waiting for the command to go. What were we going to find in there? Would the girl still be alive or would we be recovering a body? I let the breath go slowly, my colleagues were still waiting. I nodded my head, raised my radio and advised the rear team. We were go.
The metal enforcer slammed against the lock and the door shifted and groaned. It didn’t give completely. Dan Colson swung his thick-set arms back and, grunting, he slammed the red enforcer back into the door. This time it cracked and spl
intered under the pressure. I levered myself forward shouting “Police!” as I entered the house. Echoes of “Police!” followed me. I could hear the same sound coming from somewhere in front of me as the rear entry team made their way into the address. Ahead of me were the stairs. To the left was an internal door. I pushed on the handle. Inside the living room our man was raising himself from the sofa, a laptop open on a small coffee table in front of him. Donovan Manders, the man behind all this death and destruction. He was half-sitting, half-standing, his body stooped, his eyes wide and his face white. The couple of seconds it took me to reach him gave him time to right himself; he stood with his shoulders back and his fists clenched at his side.
I was fast. “Don’t make a move.” I grabbed hold of his wrist, hoping he would decide to try to resist. I didn’t need much of a reason to use force to restrain him. Pulling the speed-cuffs out of my belt I pushed one down on his wrist, the metal cuffs locking their jaws securely around it. I grabbed his second wrist and pulled it around hard, his shoulder forced back with the action as I secured him. He was shouting, making protestations I barely registered amongst all the other sounds in the house as officers continued to enter. “Donovan Manders, I am arresting you on suspicion of human trafficking for sexual exploitation and for inciting the murders of Rosie Green, Allison Kirk and Isabelle Thomas. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned...” I went on with the caution. It rolled off my tongue. We had him. We actually had him. I heard heavy footfalls going up the stairs, echoes of “Police!” still being shouted. Manders decided to pay attention to the caution issued and stopped talking.
The DI Hannah Robbins Series: Books 1 - 3 (Boxset) (Detective Hannah Robbins Crime Series) Page 21
