No Way Home

by Jack Slater

Her eyes flashed wide. ‘Death? What do you mean? He…’ She stopped herself abruptly. Her whole expression closed down. ‘I cannot go to court, Detective. You understand that, don’t you?’

  ‘There shouldn’t be a need, Miss Radcliffe. But I do need to know what happened.’

  ‘Why? If there’s no need for it to come out in court, then what’s the need for it to come out at all?’

  ‘Corroboration. We have testimony. We need to know if it’s reliable.’

  ‘You have testimony of what, Detective?’

  Pete shook his head. ‘It doesn’t work that way, Miss Radcliffe. You’re a legal secretary. You know that.’

  She closed her eyes, her body almost completely still for several seconds. Then she fixed Pete with an intense stare. ‘My car broke down. I called a cab to take me home, rather than waiting for God knows how long on the side of a busy main road. He turned up. I got in. He… One moment, he was fine; the next, he was really weird. Then he’d be fine again. When we got close to the end of Argyll Road, he pulled off onto that wide verge in front of the trees and…’ Her eyes closed again and her jaw clamped tight as she fought with her emotions. Her chest heaving, face scrunched up in a grimace, she finally looked up, this time at Jane. ‘He raped me,’ she whispered. ‘There, in the back of his cab. I tried to fight him off. I even gave him a faceful of pepper spray, but he just wouldn’t stop.’ She blinked several times. ‘Afterwards, I managed to get away and just ran. I went through the woods so he wouldn’t see me. I must have spent half an hour or more in the shower afterwards, but I still felt filthy. Soiled. Eventually, I was just so exhausted, I went to sleep, but even then, I had nightmares all night. And sickness. But…’ She switched her gaze back to Pete. ‘You say he died? How? What from? I only had pepper spray. The legal kind. It’s in my bag, upstairs.’

  Pete dipped his head. ‘We’ll see about that later. But that’s all you know about what happened to the taxi driver? You didn’t see anyone else around there? Or hear anything unusual?’

  ‘There were a couple of police cars parked along Argyll Road. I remember wishing they’d hear me screaming while he was…’ Her eyes closed again and she shuddered. ‘Then, I was just about to come out of the woods onto Pennsylvania when they turned out of the Argyll Road junction. I ducked back into the trees until they’d gone.’

  ‘Why?’ If she was a victim, why wouldn’t she jump out and stop them to report it?

  ‘I didn’t want to be seen,’ she said incredulously. ‘Reporting it, charging him, would have meant a court case. Media coverage. Someone might have seen me, recognised me. Someone from back in Reigate.’ She paused. ‘What happened to him? You haven’t told me.’

  ‘He was stabbed. Actually, he had his throat cut. Right where he’d attacked you. And you’re certain you saw or heard nothing?’

  ‘I was running through the wood, Detective. I didn’t see or hear anything except my own panic.’

  Pete looked at Jane again. They would have to go back up there, see if there were signs of her flight through the little copse, though even that wouldn’t prove she didn’t do it.

  Jane returned his gaze with an expression that said, as plainly as any words – I believe her.

  Pete nodded his agreement. ‘OK, Miss Radcliffe. We’ll need to see that pepper spray and you’ll need to stay in the city for the next few days and be available if we need to talk to you again. You’re sure you’ve got no idea where Tanya might have gone?’

  She stared at him, her brown eyes wide as she processed what he’d just said. Then she shook her head. ‘None.’

  ‘And you don’t know anyone else who might?’

  She shook her head again. ‘Her family, perhaps. Other than that, no.’

  ‘OK.’ Pete stood up. ‘Jane, if you want to go with Miss Radcliffe and check on that spray...’

  While they went upstairs, he stepped outside and called the squad room.

  ‘Dave,’ he said when it was picked up. ‘I need you to check something for me.’

  ‘What’s that, boss?’

  ‘Reigate. Children’s home. An enquiry and court case, five or six years ago. Everything you can find, including transcripts.’

  ‘OK… I vaguely remember something about that. Big sexual-abuse case, wasn’t it?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And we’ve got a link?’

  ‘Maybe. We’ll see you later.’ Pete ended the call and went back inside just in time to meet Jane coming from the other side of the reception area. She nodded. Emma’s spray was the legal kind. ‘All right. Let’s go.’

  She waited until they were outside before asking, ‘So, what’s next?’

  Pete sighed. ‘If I knew that, this job would be easy.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Pete felt the fluttering of butterflies in his stomach and reached out to take Louise’s hand. He hadn’t felt this nervous in years. Even his driving test hadn’t been this bad.

  They were seated across from the reception desk in the foyer of Archways Secure Children’s Home. It was nine-twenty-three in the morning. As well as arranging the time off work, Pete had had to get written permission to visit the facility from Colin Underhill. The one condition of that was that any contact between him and Tommy was to be supervised at all times by a member of Archways staff.

  Pete had readily accepted: it was probably a condition of any parental visit in the facility anyway. If not, then it ought to be, he thought. Not that it was Tommy he was here to see. They had arranged to meet with Dr Brian Letterman at nine-thirty.

  He looked at Louise. She looked as nervous as he felt.

  What was Brian going to tell them?

  He’d called and spoken to Louise the day before, while Pete was out at Emma Radcliffe’s place – he still didn’t know her real name, and probably never would. The court transcripts were sealed, as were those from the enquiry. Just the results had been published. She’d changed her name legally when she moved down here. That had been the second time she’d changed it since the trial, she’d told him on the phone, the previous afternoon. She had originally moved to Cheltenham, but she’d had to leave there when someone began following her. There had been evidence, but the man had never been caught. So, she’d changed her life again and moved down here.

  And now this…

  Jane had questioned her use of Facebook, but she had pointed out that she did not have any pictures of herself on there. Her profile image was a silhouette of several female graduates jumping up and tossing their mortar boards in the air. The party photos had been put up by a colleague. No one here knew her history or circumstances.

  Pete squeezed Louise’s hand reassuringly. ‘It’ll be OK,’ he said.

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Really? That’s the best you can do?’

  ‘What do you want me to say? We don’t know what’s going on yet, do we? But it will be OK in the end. I’m sure of it. He’s a strong kid. Mentally. He might be little for his age, but he’s a fighter. Always has been.’

  ‘Yeah, that’s part of the problem. They don’t like fighters in places like this, do they?’

  Pete smiled. ‘All right. He’s a survivor then. How’s that?’

  She tipped her head. ‘Better.’

  Brian came around the corner and hurried over, hand outstretched. ‘Hi, Hi. Sorry to keep you. Come on through to my office.’ He eagerly shook hands with Pete, then with Louise.

  Pete held back a grimace at the quick, clammy grip.

  Brian showed them along the corridor. His was the second door along. He held it open for them to enter and offered them seats. ‘Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?’

  Pete shook his head.

  ‘No, thanks,’ Louise said.

  Brian settled himself behind his desk. ‘OK. How are you both? I know it must be difficult, having Tommy in here. You must be having all sorts of awful thoughts and worries. I know you’re both professional people. Intelligent. But there has to be an emotional impact in a situation l
ike this.’

  He was waffling and none of it was pertinent. Pete’s patience began to draw thin. ‘We’re fine. The question is, how’s Tommy?’

  ‘Well, yes.’ Brian gave an overexaggerated nodding motion. ‘That is the question, isn’t it?’ He clasped his hands together on his desk, fingers entwined. ‘I’m afraid that’s very much the question. And one that we don’t have an easy answer for.’

  ‘So, what’s the difficult one?’ Pete asked.

  ‘Well, to be perfectly honest, we’re not absolutely sure. We thought we were getting there, but…’ He shrugged, hands spreading wide. ‘Then Tommy goes and throws us a curveball, as they say across the pond.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  Brian pursed his lips. ‘Honestly – I wish I knew. It seems that every other day he changes in ways we just can’t predict. Most recently, he seems to have made a connection with a girl who came to us for her own safety, after making several suicide attempts. She’d shunned every attempt to interact with her until Tommy tried. Why he chose to, I have no idea, but he got through where no one else – staff or young people – could. She seems to be responding well, but… I’m worried.’

  ‘Worried?’ Louise exclaimed. ‘Why?’

  Brian grimaced. ‘Well, as volatile as he is, if Tommy were to suddenly discard that connection, for whatever reason, I don’t think she’d be able to recover from it.’

  ‘So, what are you suggesting?’ asked Pete. ‘Pull them apart just in case?’

  ‘I don’t know. That’s why I wanted to talk to you both.’

  ‘I presume you’ve read Rosie Whitlock’s statement?’ Louise asked.

  ‘Of course. But Tommy called that into question himself, as far as his motives at the time are concerned.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He put the notion out there that his actions weren’t entirely – or even partially – altruistic.’

  ‘Of course they were,’ Louise protested. ‘He laid himself open to terrible consequences, to give her the chance to escape.’

  ‘On the face of it, yes. But do we know all the circumstances?’

  ‘What are you suggesting?’

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything. Tommy himself did. That without all the facts, we can’t assume motive.’

  ‘He was just messing with you,’ Pete asserted.

  Brian frowned. ‘To what end?’

  ‘He’s a kid. Maybe he was just trying to be clever. Who knows what goes on in their heads half the time? It doesn’t have to make sense to us, to make sense to them.’

  ‘I’m aware of the vagaries of child psychology, Peter. But I’m not sure I can put the safety of another young person in Tommy’s hands.’

  Now, we’re getting to it, Pete thought. ‘So, what are you proposing?’

  ‘I’m tempted to suggest that one of them leaves the facility and goes elsewhere. To separate them before any problem occurs.’

  A stab of fear jolted through Pete’s chest. When he said “one of them”, he obviously meant Tommy. Why else would they be here, now? And where else could Tommy go, as a youth on remand? Certainly, nowhere in Exeter. ‘Who’s to say there’s going to be a problem? If you separate them for no reason, you could set them both back. Why not just take advantage of the progress they’ve made? Give them the chance to make some more?’

  ‘It would be wonderful if we could. The trouble is, I don’t know how reliable Tommy’s going to be.’

  ‘It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind,’ Louise accused stiffly.

  ‘Not at all. It’s a question of exploring options and possibilities.’

  ‘Really?’ said Pete. ‘What alternatives are there? If you want to move one of them out, which one? And where to?’ The answer was obvious: they were here, as opposed to the parents or guardians of this girl he was talking about. But he wanted to force Brian to say it.

  ‘Well, this is the only facility of its type in Devon. The nearest other one would be in Southampton or Bristol. Other than that, we’re talking, in Tommy’s case, about a secure training centre, the nearest of which would be some distance from here. Or, for Tabitha, it would be a mental health facility. Which means here, Plymouth or Barnstaple.’

  ‘And where’s this Tabitha from?’

  ‘Crediton.’

  ‘So, Plymouth would be just as handy as here for any family members wanting to visit her,’ Pete said. ‘And, if she’s suicidal, then mental health professionals would be as well-placed as anyone to give her what she needs. Whereas, Tommy’s just on remand for a relatively minor crime. And we both know what those STCs are like nowadays. No kid should be going into that system until it’s strictly necessary, no matter what he’s accused or suspected of.’

  Brian was nodding again. Pete guessed he was trying to look wise and understanding, but it wasn’t working. At least, not in Pete’s eyes.

  ‘You’re quite right, of course,’ said the psychiatrist. ‘But our mental health facilities are stretched way beyond their limits these days. I’m not at all sure that would be an appropriate environment for Tabitha. And with Tommy’s record here…’

  ‘His record?’ Louise protested. ‘One incident of self-defence that wouldn’t have been necessary if you people had been doing your jobs properly. Huh! If Tommy’s sorted the girl out, she can move on. If he might be able to do more for her, then you should give him the chance. Or take over the job yourself, now he’s made the breakthrough, which is what you’re supposed to be here for. Between you, surely you can turn her around. How old is she?’

  ‘Fifteen.’

  ‘Has she got family, other than her parents, she could live with until she’s got her A-levels?’

  ‘I believe there’s an aunt and uncle in Okehampton.’

  ‘Well, there you go then. Talk to them. Talk to her. See if they’ll take her in for a couple of years and if she’s happy with the idea. If so, you should be able to get her stabilised and out of here. And Tommy’s not going to be here long anyway. A couple of months, probably, until the trial he’s due to testify in. And by then, the knife issue should have been resolved too. And in the meantime, you could separate them, surely? With the staffing levels in this place, it couldn’t be that hard.’

  Brian drew a deep breath. ‘The whole ethos of this place – the system it’s set up around – is one of integration, not segregation.’

  Louise’s face twisted in disgust. ‘This meeting never was about a discussion, was it? It was just your way of pussyfooting around trying to find a way of telling us, without bothering your conscience, that you can’t cope with Tommy, so you want rid of him,’

  ‘I am always open to persuasion, Mrs Gayle. Sadly, I’ve heard nothing, this morning, to offer that persuasion.’

  ‘Well, none of us has got what we wanted then,’ Louise said firmly. ‘But I shall go back to the hospital from here and see what I can do about it, as a staff member.’

  Brian frowned.

  ‘If she wants to cause trouble, trust me – she’ll cause a whole damn shitstorm,’ Pete told him. ‘And you know what I do for a living. You’re sure you want to go down this road, are you?’

  His frown deepened. ‘I don’t think there’s any need for threats, Mr and Mrs Gayle. This meeting was a courtesy extended to you, in case you could offer any useful insight. And I think you’ve just done exactly that. I’m afraid my recommendation is going to be that your son is moved out of this establishment at the earliest opportunity.’

  Louise came up out of her chair, a noise coming from her throat that Pete couldn’t even describe. It was somewhere between a roar and a scream, but very low in volume. Despite his own almost insurmountable need to reach across the desk and strangle the self-righteous little shit, he grabbed Louise and held her back, pushing her down into the chair and holding her there.

  ‘You send my son to jail and I’ll finish you, you ineffectual little creep,’ she snarled over Pete’s shoulder. ‘I’ll have you struck off every regist
er in Europe before I’m finished.’

  She’d do it too, Pete knew. And he’d back her, one hundred per cent. It wouldn’t help Tommy, but nothing would, at this stage. Louise was right: Brian’s mind had been set before this meeting was even arranged. It had only ever been about assuaging his conscience and maybe some damage-control.

  ‘Come on, Lou,’ he said. ‘This is getting us nowhere.’

  ‘So, you just want to walk out?’

  He met her fierce and desperate gaze and gave her a subtle shake of the head, not wanting to discuss plans in front of Letterman, but she was too distraught to register it.

  ‘You’re going to back down to a useless wimp who can’t stand the fact that a fourteen-year-old kid can do his job better than he can?’

  ‘No,’ he said finally. ‘I’m going to do something about it that can’t be done in this room. And I’m not leaving you behind to boost his argument by assaulting him. So, come on. Let’s go.’

  ‘You’re as bad as he is,’ she accused. ‘This is our son we’re talking about. His whole life and future.’

  ‘I know,’ he cut in over her. ‘And I agree with you. But that’s not going to make a difference here. We’re not going to make a difference here. So, let’s go somewhere that we can.’ He guided her towards the door.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ she demanded.

  ‘I’m choosing my fights,’ he told her. ‘And the battlefield.’

  ‘But…’

  ‘Later.’ He opened the door behind her, eased her through it, then took her hand and led her briskly away down the corridor.

  *

  Pete dropped Louise back at the Royal Devon and Exeter Hospital, where she planned to begin creating as much hell as she possibly could for Dr Brian Letterman.

  Finally, outside the secure children’s home, he had explained to her that, with Letterman unwilling to listen, there was no point arguing with him. Their time would be far better spent doing something about him. And forewarned was forearmed, which was the last thing they wanted him to be. Far better to hit when and where he wasn’t expecting it than to let him prepare his defence in advance.