by Bo Brennan
“Bear with me a second,” he said raising his hand. “Let me finish this entry before the computer crashes again.”
Alan stood silently at the side of Brian's desk, frightened to twitch in case the crappy temperamental system went down. He'd lost two hours of input data last night and had wasted two hours re inputting it this morning.
Brian hit return and sat back in his seat. “I'm all yours.”
“I went to see Karen McGregor today,” Alan said quietly. “The file says you visited her last week.”
Brian stared at him blankly. “And?”
“And she doesn't live there anymore,” Alan said passing him the file. “She hasn't for months.”
Brian cleared his throat as he flicked through the file visit entries. One a week, for seven months, all signed by him. “Pull up a chair,” he said softly.
Alan was glad to take the weight off, he was exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, physically.
“Karen's a bonus baby,” Brian said leaning in close and lowering his voice. “You only need to visit them when they're ready to drop.”
Alan propped an elbow on the desk and rubbed his forehead. “Brian, you've forged the entries.”
Brian shook his head. “No. I made a judgement call,” he whispered fiercely. “That's our job, that's what we have to do. You're not in some rural backwater now, sunshine. This is the most densely populated borough in the country. How else do you think we all keep up with the bloody workload?”
Alan gripped his head in his hands as his heart began to race. “The baby's due in days. I'm drowning in paperwork as it is. How am I supposed to track her down as well?”
“Calm down. You don't have to,” Brian said nodding towards the boss’s closed door. “That's why she shuffles the cases around every few months. Everyone has their Karen McGregors. A straight forward weekly entry of: ‘all fine, still smoking and not coping.’ As long as the record’s updated no one cares. It frees us up to deal with the kids who really need us, the ones whose parents think they're ashtrays and punch bags. At the team meeting this week, you and everyone else will file their missing reports, and it's dealt with. Simple. That's the way it works.”
Brian patted him on the shoulder as he stood up. “Come on. Let’s go for a cig. The fresh air will do you good.”
Alan stared at Brian's empty seat. This wasn't what he'd signed up for, what he'd spent years training and accruing a mountain of student debt for. But at least now he knew how to make it through a day. Alan dragged his hands down his face and let out a ragged expanse of breath. Wiping his sweaty palms on his thighs he stood up and followed Brian outside.
City Secondary School, Winchester.
On the first ring of the end of day bell, Terri Davies’ class charged towards the door. “Don't run,” she shouted above the bustle.
Today they were more eager to leave than usual. The Sex Ed teacher had chucked a sickie again. Apparently Sex Education was more important than English, so Terri found herself standing in again. She didn't really mind. She was an advocate of tough love. Instead of following the curriculum and demonstrating safe sex with a condom and banana, she showed the students graphic close up photos of genital warts and gonorrhoea in an attempt to scare the hormonal little buggers into keeping their bits in their pants a little while longer.
As the room emptied only Sasha Grant remained in her seat. Terri closed the classroom door. “Any news from your sister yet, Miss?” Sasha asked.
Terri shook her head. “Not yet, love,” she said sitting on her pupil’s desk. “But it’s only been a few hours. She'll come back with something soon. I don't suppose you've had any calls this afternoon have you?”
Sasha glumly shook her head. “No news is good news eh, Miss?”
Terri gave a weak smile. With every minute that passed, the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach grew. “How about I run you to Aunt Janet’s and have a word with her myself? If she can't help we'll come up with another plan.”
“All right,” she murmured nodding in agreement. “I don't think she's mad with me. Her and Kala still wave at me when they see me on the bus.”
When the classroom door opened, Terri glanced over her shoulder and frowned when Gorgeous George stepped inside. “What are you doing here?” she said standing up and pulling her cardigan around her chest. She swallowed hard as two uniformed police officers stepped into the room behind him. Oh god if he was going to have her arrested, why here, why now? “Sasha, could you wait outside for a moment please,” she said as calmly as she could, ushering her by the elbow to her feet.
“Actually, it's Sasha we're here to see,” George said.
“What do you want with Sasha?” Terri snapped. “She's a straight A student, I can assure you she's the last kid in this school that would've done anything wrong.”
“She's not in any trouble,” George said and smiled reassuringly. “We're taking her into emergency protective care.”
Terri instinctively raised her arm and pushed Sasha behind her. “You’re bloody not,” she spluttered.
“Come on Sasha,” George said reaching for her. “Get your things, you're coming with me.”
Sasha pulled away from him and cowered behind Terri. “I don't want to go. Please don't let them take me, Miss.”
“It’s all right, it’ll be fine,” Terri said smoothing the girl’s hair. “This is all just a big mistake.”
“There’s no mistake,” George said stepping forward. “She’s home alone. We’re taking her to a place of safety.”
Terri raised her hands in a vain attempt to keep George at bay. She knew from experience it took her knee to do that. “Right now, this girl is in my care,” she said sternly, “and without a warrant or a court order you're not taking her anywhere.”
“We don't need one,” the male police officer said. “Under the child protection emergency procedures we have a legal obligation to remove any child in immediate danger to a place of safety.”
“She's not in danger,” Terri said backing up against the blackboard as they found themselves surrounded. “I'm a teacher for Christ’s sake.”
“Please, step aside Miss Davies,” the female officer said softly. “Don't make this any harder than it has to be.”
“This isn’t the bloody dark ages,” Terri said entwining her fingers through Sasha’s. “You can't just come in here and snatch her!”
“Step aside Miss Davies,” the male officer said unclipping his batten from his belt. “We won't warn you again.”
Terri turned her pleading eyes on George as Sasha's grip tightened around her hand. “This is about the other night isn't it? Please don't do this George. It’s nothing to do with her! Tell me whatever it is you want and I'll do it.”
George’s round cheeks flushed. “It’s not personal, it’s business.” He gave a curt nod and the police officers moved in, grabbing at Terri’s arms while George struggled to get a grip on Sasha. Terri screamed as they dragged her to the ground and prised her fingers open to release the child’s hand.
“Let her go Miss Davies,” the female officer on her back, wrenching her arm up between her shoulder blades, said. “Please don’t ruin your career by forcing us to arrest you.”
Terri lay sobbing, pinned to the classroom floor, as Sasha's desperate screams for help grew more distant by the second. She knew she would never forget that moment. In that moment a little piece of her died.
Chapter 7
Red Wall Chambers, London.
Felicity Firman raised her arms above her head and let out a ginormous yawn as she stretched her back.
“You should call it a night, Miss Firman,” Leon said popping up from behind the stack of files on his desk. He'd been silently buried behind them for so long she'd forgotten he was there. “I've prepared all your files for tomorrow,” he said patting the top of the stack.
Flick stifled another yawn, feeling slightly envious of his twenty something vim and vigour. “How are the arguments coming along?” she sai
d.
“I'm just writing the final paragraph of the Crossley case now. Five more minutes and I'll be done.” Leon smiled. “I feel the Wig & Pen beckoning. You should grab a drink and unwind tonight.”
“You’re right,” she said strumming her fingers on the desk. “A drink sounds like a marvellous proposition this evening.”
Leon grinned and returned his focus to the Crossley file. Flick raised a brow at the speed of his writing. It had better be legible when the time came for her to read it in court tomorrow. She dismissed the thought with a tight shake of her head. Tiredness was making her precious. Leon was meticulous. It would be perfectly readable. If it wasn't he'd be leading the case himself. He was certainly ready. A Residency Order was straightforward enough and he could do with the practice. She'd decide in the morning. See how she felt. Right now her lips were itching for a drink.
She didn't fancy the Wig & Pen where the city's top legal egos competed in stereo and the cisterns were powder coated. At this time of night you could get high just by entering the toilets. Besides, she still had business matters to discuss. Private business matters. She pulled out her Blackberry and keyed the number from memory.
“Bourbon, mine, an hour?” she said when the call was picked up. She smiled at the receiver’s response. “It’s a date,” she said, hanging up frowning when the phone in her jacket pocket sounded the arrival of a text.
Leon sighed as Flick pulled out the Pay As You Go Mobile and silently read the message.
Goods arrived safely. Distribution arranged. More funds and more space needed. No room for 7 days.
Seemed she’d made the right call after all. They had more to discuss than anticipated.
“A secret second phone?” Leon murmured as he bound the completed Crossley file with legal ribbon. “Isn't that the preserve of drug dealers and pimps?”
Flick forced a laugh and slipped the phone into her pocket. “And barristers with overprotective fathers,” she mused, a wave of guilt engulfing her as she gestured to the photograph on her desk. Her father in full police regalia, and her mother in a beautiful hat, grinned back at her like cats that got the cream. Her father had received a bravery award that morning. They came to her afternoon graduation straight from the ceremony. Much to her father’s dismay, her mother was still dining out on it now. A commendation and graduation on the same day - the proudest day of their lives.
They had no idea she had a second phone. God help her if they ever found out why.
Park Gate, Hampshire.
India Kane sat in the warm evening air with a glass of wine in her hand and Mumford & Sons playing on the radio. All nice and chilled and relaxed. She was thinking life can't get much better than this, when she heard the car door slam. She glanced at her watch and huffed a chuckle. He was early. Seemed life could get better after all.
“On the deck,” she called out as she topped up her glass.
“How could you?” Terri said rounding the corner.
India frowned. Her angry sister turning up wasn't conducive to the intimate night she'd planned. “How could I what?”
“I'm not fucking stupid,” Terri spat. “I came to you for help and you, you of all people, stabbed me in the fucking back.”
“I've got no idea what you're ranting about,” India said and offered up the glass she'd reserved for Colt. “Sit down. Have a drink. Chill out.”
Terri threw her hands in the air. “Yeah, 'cos that will make it all right won't it? That's how you live with yourself, India. Not the rest of us. The rest of us feel fucking pain. And it hurts. You hurt,” she shouted jabbing a teacherly finger an inch from India's face.
India raised her brows and cocked her jaw. “You want to calm yourself down.”
“Why? You worried you'll do something else you'll regret?”
India raised a shoulder. “I don't have any regrets.”
“That's the fucking problem,” Terri shrieked.
India stared at her and puffed out her cheeks in exasperation. “I wish you'd fill me in on this fucking problem instead of raging like a psycho. You'll give yourself a stroke if you’re not careful.”
“You sent the fucking gestapo round to take her!” she screamed sending a spray of spittle into the air. “She was fine, she was safe. Sasha's not like you. She won't last five fucking minutes in the system!”
India stood up and leant across the table towards her. “If you're talking about Sasha Grant, I haven't told anyone.”
“Bullshit,” Terri said leaning into her stare. “You told me to ring Social Services because you couldn't be arsed. And then you did it yourself to save you a job. That pervy bastard Social Worker turned up with your uniformed fucking mates and dragged her away kicking and screaming. She's just a little girl!”
AJ Colt could hear the shouting over his car stereo as he drove down the dirt track to home. His chest tightened and his mouth went dry as he gunned the accelerator. He let out a heavy breath when he saw her sister's car parked on the hard standing between the houseboats.
As he stepped from his car the noise of their argument filled the still summer air, travelling across the water to give the yachties navigating the river an ear full. Colt ran up the wooden steps towards the source of the commotion and stared in disbelief at what he found. India Kane was not the sort of woman whose face you got up in. But she was taking it full pelt from Terri Davies, and she was drinking too. A dangerous combination.
“You of all people,” Terri screamed slapping the glass from her hand. “My family fucking saved you.”
Colt grabbed Terri's wrist as she clenched her fist and pulled back to lash out again. “That's enough. What the fuck's going on?”
“Ask her,” Terri said, face streaming with tears. “I'm fucking done with her this time. I'm leaving. If you've got any sense you will too before she rips your heart out and stamps all over it.”
Bewildered, Colt watched her storm back to her car and wheel spin away in a cloud of dust. Suddenly the silence on the deck was deafening. The sounds of crunching glass drew his gaze as India sloped inside.
“Whoa, hang on a minute,” he said stepping into her path. “What the hell was all that about?” He brushed the stray hairs from her cheeks and lifted her chin to face him. Her eyes were dead. India Kane had already left. Stepping aside he swallowed hard as her bare feet left a trail of bloody footprints through the open front door.
She was sitting on the sofa staring blankly at the wall when he returned with the first aid box from the boot of his car. He knelt before her and lifted each foot in turn, relieved to see just one sole cut.
Gently, he patted the wound with an antiseptic wipe and immediately felt the sharp edge of an imbedded shard. “What are we going to do with you India?” he sighed.
He knew exactly what he was going to do with the glass, he was going to find some tweezers and dig the fucking thing out, but India was a different ball game altogether. He had no idea what he could do for her.
The tweezers were easy to find, India on the other hand was not. She was still lost in space when he came back from her bedroom, tweezers in hand. She didn’t flinch when he pulled the glass out and dabbed at the wound, ensuring he’d got it all. His eyes narrowed as he held up her foot and peered closely at it. No stitches needed, a plaster would suffice. Thank fuck he didn't have to take her to the hospital. He applied the band aid with care, and added another for luck, before lowering her rigid body down onto the sofa and covering her with a blanket.
The last thing he did before heading across the way to home was pour the remainder of the open wine bottle down the sink.
Colt stared at the split screen on his laptop and then diverted his eyes to the time in the bottom right corner. Just past midnight. It was proving way too hard to concentrate on finalising his notes for tomorrow’s meeting. He lay back against the pillows and stared at the ceiling.
Wrapped in a blanket she'd walked out of her front door almost an hour ago. The fact she wasn't back yet was driving h
im to distraction. He bit at his lip, toying with the idea of creeping down there to check on her. If he'd known about this quirk of hers when he’d installed the bloody surveillance system, there'd be a camera covering the pontoon.
He was about to step out of bed when the computer beeped to alert movement outside. He clicked the camera live feed and saw her crossing the space between the houseboats by torchlight. He hit save on his notes and slammed the laptop shut, sliding it under his bed as he turned out the bedside lamp.
Colt closed his eyes and pretended he was sleeping, listened intently in the darkness as she unlocked his front door and padded barefoot towards his bed. His stomach tightened as he heard the blanket draped around her shoulders crumple softly to the floor. Felt the cool tremble of her body as she slipped into the bed beside him and curled up into a ball.
He rolled over and snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her close and tight. Relishing the feeling of her damp hair against his chest he breathed her in, the smell of the river clung to her skin.
In the darkness he smiled contentedly. His work notes would still be there in the morning. Whether the same could be said for India remained to be seen.
Chapter 8
Thursday 14th July
Hampshire.
Sasha Grant peered through the curtains at the rising sun. She had no idea where she was; nothing looked familiar. They’d taken her to a police station first, and locked her in a little room. Her mum had always told her to kick and scream and run to the police if a stranger ever touched her. She did all that, bit him too, and then found herself in prison.
