Ruby looked up, ‘She hasn’t because I don’t cry like Rees. She only gets mad with him ’cos he cries a lot.’
‘Well I’d still like you to meet them. Is that okay?’
Ruby nodded.
Out of the corner of her eye, Scarlett caught a sudden flash to her right. Someone was taking a photo. She stopped mid-stride, spun around and rapidly scanned the crowd. She caught sight of someone pulling away a mobile from their face and dodging out of sight. Her heart lurched. The glimpse of the young man’s face was only fleeting but in that split-second she recognised who it was. She searched among the heads to where she’d seen him duck but he was nowhere to be seen. Her heart was banging against her chest. She was certain it was James Green.
Eighteen
Scarlett stopped the video footage and ejected the disc from the computer. With an overwhelming sense of anger, she turned to Tarn sitting beside her. As if reading her thoughts, he shook his head in disgust. They had just finished watching the interview with Ruby Tornese. The female detective conducting it had performed a masterful piece of discussion with the six-year-old, and while it had been priceless in terms of evidence gathering it had also been heart-breaking to watch; several times, Scarlett felt a lump rising in her throat and had to swallow hard. The little girl had talked about her two-year-old brother being smacked and punched by her mum as if that was the norm. The cruelty Ruby had witnessed on a daily basis was beyond comprehension; she’d seen him being hit regularly with ‘mummy’s belt’ and then locked in the cupboard under the stairs while they went to the shops, and she’d also described how she had ‘watched mummy put the ‘buzzy’ collar around Rees’s neck, when she was really angry with him.’ She said, ‘Rees wet himself when mummy did that’: they had found an electric dog training collar hidden in the bottom of the kitchen waste bin; it matched the mark around Rees’s neck: As if punching and belting her son hadn’t been enough, Kerrie had tortured him with electric shocks for fun.
Ruby had left the station with a social worker and was now with temporary foster parents. It wasn’t ideal, but at least her life was going to get better from now on. Not so for her little brother. His life was over. That afternoon Scarlett had gone to Rees Tornese’s post-mortem. It had been one of the most harrowing PMs she’d ever attended. A couple of times she’d felt she was going to lose it and she’d had to fight hard to mask her emotions. When Scarlett had first seen his naked body laid out on the metal gurney, she had frozen, stunned by the frailness of his body. Just as quickly though, she had switched into investigation mode, processing his torso as evidence rather than a person – something she had to do to get the job done. The two-and-a-half-hour autopsy had revealed Rees was badly malnourished, had scabies and forty-six injuries over the length and breadth of his body. Most of the bruising had been caused by punching, some by a belt; the buckle mark was still evident on his skin. His death had been caused by a bleed to the brain; he had been repeatedly thumped in the head. The Pathologist had also determined that Rees had been dead for between 15 and 20 hours, so couldn’t have been alive at 10 o’clock last night as Kerrie had told them.
They had interviewed Kerrie twice – she’d needed a break because of the withdrawal shakes and a doctor had been called – but neither of those interrogations had got to the truth of what she’d done. She had lied through her teeth. Her continued response was that Rees was accident prone – always bumping into things and banging his head and she even had the impudence to say that Ruby sometimes played rough with him. There was no sadness, no remorse in her answers, just a blame game, and she wasn’t the one to blame. There had been a few moments during the questioning when Scarlett had felt the urge to inflict some physical pain upon Kerry but she had clenched her hands beneath the table that thankfully separated them, and kept them there until the interview had ended. How the fuck could a mother do that to their child? The Bitch.
‘Well I thought I was tough, but I could weep for those two kids,’ said Tarn. ‘I mean, what kind of life did they have? Especially poor Rees. Someone like that doesn’t deserve to have kids.’
Scarlett placed the DVD into its box and started filling out the evidence label. ‘She’ll get what’s coming to her on remand. No one likes a child killer. Not even prisoners.’ Slipping the DVD into her top drawer she checked her watch. ‘Talking about kids, haven’t you got a home to go to?’
Tarn checked his own watch, ‘We’ve got the rest of the evidence to book in and the charges to do yet.’
‘I can sort that. It’s only an hour’s work. We’ll do the remand file tomorrow. Kerrie Tornese is not going anywhere, is she? And anyway, sorting out your marriage is more important than this.’
‘To be honest Scarlett I could do with getting off. Trish has been playing on my mind all day.’
‘You get yourself off and I’ll finish off here.’
‘You sure?’
‘Absolutely. See you tomorrow.’
Tarn didn’t bother tidying his desk like he usually did. He locked his drawers, dragged his coat off the back of his chair and headed for the door.
Scarlett watched him go with a heavy heart. She’d been watching him all day. He’d gone about his job like the professional he was, but without his usual bounce and enthusiasm. She hoped her partner had got it wrong about his wife having an affair. She’d seen too many of her colleagues’ marriages go to the wall. She tried to convince herself that was one of the reasons why she’d stayed single.
Nineteen
It was almost 10 p.m. by the time Scarlett clocked off and eleven by the time she got home. She stripped off her clothes in the kitchen and dumped them in the washing machine and then climbed wearily up the stairs to the bathroom where she turned on the shower. Turning it up a couple of notches she stepped into the hot cascade. For a few seconds it felt like the water was piercing her skin and then she got used to it and tilted back her head, closing her eyes. The image of Rees Tornese’s frail and battered body lying on the autopsy gurney had cemented itself to her inner vision since the post-mortem that afternoon and she hadn’t been able to unhook it. The sight of the blonde haired, skinny boy, lying dead on that cold metal examination table, his angrily-bruised flesh stretched over chicken-thin bones was going to stay with her for a very long time. Probably for ever.
Before she left work, Scarlett had charged Kerrie with murder and it was the first time Scarlett had seen the hardness in Kerrie’s face crack. The moment she’d been asked if she wanted to make a reply to the charge Kerrie had broken down. She'd screamed like a banshee and collapsed to the floor. Scarlett had walked away without any feeling of pity. In fact as she’d slammed the cell door shut, her only thought was that Kerrie should suffer the same hell in prison as Rees had. Now there were other things on her mind as she opened her eyes – scabies and head-lice. She reached for the shower soap and scrubbed her arms until they were red.
Twenty minutes later, in her dressing gown, she headed into the kitchen. She was famished. In the fridge, she found a pasta salad she’d bought two days ago – it was still in date – and poured herself a glass of white wine; she needed to come down after the day she’d had. Then, she went into the lounge, switched on the TV and dumped herself down on the sofa. Swallowing a decent slug of wine she set down her glass on the coffee table, picked up her salad and the TV remote and began surfing the channels. She found an episode of Friends that she’d seen a couple of times but didn’t care – she needed something that wouldn’t tax her mashed up brain.
Settling back against the scatter cushions, she dug into her pasta salad and had just forked in a mouthful when the flash of that afternoon’s event – the person photographing her with their mobile – entered her mind’s eye. It had visited her a few times throughout the day but she had been so tied up with things that she’d pushed it aside. Now it had popped up again and wasn’t going away until she’d resolved it. She stopped chewing and closed her eyes, willing the image to return but her brain was having none of it
. She had been convinced at the time that it was James Green she had seen but the reflection was so distant now she wasn’t so confident. Besides, Green lived in a flat in Twickenham. Why would he be across in the Winstanley Estate? Just then something more disturbing entered her thinking – had he taken to following her?
Twenty
The next morning, after another disturbed night's sleep, Scarlett had just stepped out of the shower when the front doorbell sounded. Confused, wondering who it could be because it was too early for the postman, she slung on her dressing gown and, still wet, trotted downstairs to answer the door. It was Tarn and he looked forlorn. Stepping back to usher him in, she said, ‘That look on your face tells me it didn’t go well between you and Trish last night?’
He closed the door. ‘She wouldn’t even discuss it.’
‘What happened?’
‘I waited while the kids went to bed and then put it to her that things didn’t seem right with her. She wouldn’t answer so I asked her if she was seeing someone.’
‘What did she say?’
‘Just laughed at me. She said I was being ridiculous. When I told her she’d been seen in the pub with Adam – that’s the new head - she said they’d gone there after work for a drink. That it was no big deal.’
‘That’s what I said, didn’t I?’
‘Her face said otherwise. I could tell she wasn’t being honest with me. She’s not a good liar, so I said straight out that I thought she was seeing Adam.’
‘And I guess it didn’t go down too well?’
‘Not at all. She said if that was what I thought then there was no point in talking about it. I asked her to just be honest with me but she said she didn’t want to talk about it.’ He flung up his arms in dismay. ‘And that was it. She went up to bed. When I went up half an hour later she pretended to be asleep. I haven’t slept a wink.’
‘I don’t know what to say Tarn. I’m sorry it’s not turning out for you. I’d offer to speak to Trish, but I don’t know her well enough to have a heart-to-heart with her.’
‘Thanks Scarlett, but it’s not your problem. It’s mine and Trish’s to sort out.’
Scarlett, gently stroked his arm and offered a reassuring smile. ‘Feel okay for work? If you don’t, you can always throw a sickie. It would give you some time with Trish. That’s more important.’
‘No point. She’s in work this morning. Anyway, we’ve got a couple of days off after today haven’t we? It’ll give me time over the weekend. I’m going to see if my mum and dad will have the kids to give us some time together.’ After a moment, he continued, ‘And we’ve got a remand file to do this morning for Kerrie Tornese.’
‘I can do that. That’s the least of your worries.’
‘No, I’d rather get my head down. It might help divert some of my thoughts.’
‘Okay, but if at any time you need to be away just say the word.’
‘Thanks Scarlett. I might take you up on getting a flyer if nothing else happens.’
‘No problem.’ Turning back to the stairs she said, ‘And now, partner, I have my work face to put on. Stick the kettle on and make us a coffee and I’ll be down in ten.’
‘Can I make some toast as well? I’m starving. I haven’t eaten this morning.’
‘Sure,’ she replied, beginning her ascent. ‘Put me a slice in as well. You’ll find half a loaf in the bottom of the freezer.’ As she headed into her bedroom she thought of James Green again. She'd wanted to tell Tarn about yesterday but now wasn’t the time. Her partner had more pressing problems to worry about.
Twenty-one
In the squad room Scarlett booted up her computer, toe-flicked off her shoes beneath her desk and started work on the remand file. She sent Tarn to get them a coffee from the canteen and when he returned she tasked him with chasing up statements from witnesses; primarily they needed evidence from the paramedics who had found Rees’s body, and the Sergeant and PC who had been first on scene, for that afternoon’s hearing, but long term they would need written testimonies from the pathologist and CSI officers for when the case went to Crown Court. Scarlett also needed to contact Social Services. That morning a note had been waiting on her desk informing her that both Ruby and Rees were on the At-Risk Register following several case conferences held to discuss the children’s plight. She wanted to know what evidence had been presented at those meetings; it could be vital for their case.
Half an hour into her report, Scarlett’s concentration was disturbed by loud chatter. She looked up as Detectives George Martin and Ella Bloom appeared. George and Ella were part of her syndicate, working as a team. She hadn’t been able to catch up with them these past few days because they had been working on the domestic murder, where the husband had almost hacked off his wife’s head.
She met their gaze. ‘All sorted?’
‘Yep! He’s coughed it! We’ve just charged him.’ said George, putting his document folder on his desk. He was red-faced and blowing hard.
Scarlett studied him for a moment. She wasn’t surprised he was breathing heavily – George had been steadily gaining weight for the past year and even though he was 6’ 7’’ it was more than was healthy for him. At 51, he was no spring chicken. He was spending less than a quarter of the time at the gym than he used to and yet still putting away the same amount of fast-food and beer. She’d seen it happen to a lot of detectives, which was why she was determined to keep running. In spite of his bulk though, George was no slouch; he could match anyone’s work-rate in the Squad. And his knowledge and experience were invaluable. Recently, George primarily had been responsible for nailing her parents’ murderers. She said, ‘Was it you who got the cough or Ella?’
George shot her an indignant look, ‘What are you trying to say Sergeant Macey – that I’m losing my touch? I’ll have you know a good detective will always beat charm and beauty.’
Ella’s mouth dropped open, ‘Ooh George Martin. How could you!’ She looked from George to Scarlett. ‘Don’t you let him kid you – it was a team effort. In fact, it was me who found the murder weapon. He’d put it in a neighbour's bin.’
Scarlett gave a short laugh, ‘Well done you two.’ She thought about what George had just said. He could not have chosen more appropriate words to describe Ella – she was charming and certainly was beautiful. Ella was slim with short white-blonde hair, dazzling blue eyes, thin nose, and a full mouth and looked a lot younger than her twenty-six years. When Scarlett had first met her, such was her prettiness that one of their first girlie chats had been to ask if she had ever been a model. Ella had laughed, shook her head, and told her she’d had a couple of offers to join agencies, but that she’d wanted to be a policewoman since the age of six, after being invited to a classmate’s party and meeting their funny and lovely mother who worked for the British Transport Police.
Ella caught Scarlett’s eye and flicked her head towards the door, an hint that she wanted to talk. Scarlett acknowledged her with a quick smile, found her shoes beneath her desk, picked up her bag next to her chair and followed Ella out of the room to the toilets. Ella was standing by the hand basins greeting her with a beaming smile.
‘That face tells me you have some exciting news, girl.’
‘I think Ryan’s going to propose to me this weekend.’
Ella had been dating Ryan Anderson for the best part of eighteen months. He was a detective over in Brixton; they had worked together before Ella got this job. Scarlett had met him twice when he’d come to taxi her and Ella home after a couple of their girl’s nights out. He was a nice guy and she’d had that confirmed from several sources. ‘Wow Ella, that’s fantastic. You got something lined up then?’
‘Weekend in Paris. He sprung it on me two nights ago. Right out of the blue.’
‘Well girl you need to get some nice underwear then.’
‘Tonight’s plan,’ she giggled.
‘I’m so pleased for you. Tell me all about it Monday morning.’ Scarlett leaned in and gave her a hug;
she was happy for Ella, but strangely, at that moment she experienced a sudden twinge of envy; it was something she had thought about with Alex before she had messed things up between them. As she embraced her friend, Scarlett caught her reflection in the mirror. Although she was smiling, inside there was a wrench of sadness.
Twenty-two
Scarlett awoke refreshed from the best sleep she’d had all week. As she propped herself up in bed, she shooed away thoughts of the previous week. She didn’t want another one like that for a long time. She'd left work drained yesterday evening; working on the Kerrie Tornese file had left her mentally worn out, so bushed that all she had wanted was a soak in the bath and chill in front of the TV with a couple of glasses of wine. She couldn’t even be bothered to cook and so she’d got a pizza on the way home. Now she was feeling guilty about how much she had eaten – only one slice remained from a 12” pizza. Eyeing the strong sunlight filtering through her curtains she decided to go for a run – a long one at that, not to just burn off last night’s pizza, but all the other crap she’d eaten recently. Besides she wanted to look her best for tomorrow; Alex had texted her before she had left work and asked her if she fancied doing Sunday lunch. Thinking about Ella and her weekend in Paris, it had taken her seconds to respond with a ‘Yes’.
Swinging her legs out of bed she sprang into action, changing quickly into running gear and jogging downstairs to begin her warm up. After locking the front door, she stretched her hamstrings and calves and took several deep breaths. Then, setting her time on her watch she set off at gentle jog. A hundred yards in, she stepped up the tempo. A quarter of a mile on and she began pushing herself – she knew what time she had to aim for as she chose her longest route, along Richmond Hill, down the Terrace Gardens and out along the towpath beside the Thames towards Ham, where she would turn around and return: it was a good five miles.
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