Damaged

by Martina Cole

  As he walked to her and picked his sister up in his arms, he said sadly, ‘You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I promise you, and Nanny Kate promises you too.’

  Amanda allowed him to carry her from the room and, as they left, Kate heard Beverley say in a whisper, ‘Jesus Christ.’

  Kate looked at her for a few moments, before saying, ‘I think a glass of wine is in order, don’t you, Bev?’

  Beverley smiled ruefully as she said, ‘I think a glass of Bushmills, personally.’

  It was something her mother would have said, and Kate started to laugh then. ‘You are absolutely right, Bev. This is what my old mum would call “a whiskey moment”.’

  ‘A wise woman! I have a bottle in my flat for emergencies like!’ As she walked past Kate, she grabbed her shoulder and, squeezing it tightly, she said, ‘What a fecking state of affairs! But God is good, you know. He makes the back to bear the burden.’

  It was another one of her mother’s sayings, and Kate smiled as she watched the woman walk out of the room. Bev was younger than she was, and yet she was like an ancient in comparison. But Kate knew that, whatever happened, these kids needed her and she had to be there for them. It was a wake-up call all right.

  Chapter Eighty-four

  He was looking at his pictures again; they always gave him a modicum of happiness. He loved to see the fear and the dawning comprehension on the girls’ faces when they finally realised he was going to hurt them. But he didn’t feel like that about Janet Cross; if he didn’t know better, he would think he was going soft in his old age.

  He knew, as soon as he had seen her lying there on the mattress, that she had not really changed at all. But of course, by then, it was too late. It didn’t feel like a good kill, and he didn’t like this sensation that he had maybe made a mistake. He reminded himself, over and over again, that he had a mission and that Janet Cross was now a part of that. He still thought that he maybe should have waited a bit longer, but there was an urge in him to carry out this work and carry it out properly.

  He had felt a strange connection with little Janet that he had not felt with any of the others. Her face when she had woken up, and then the knowledge that she was still as pure as the driven snow. That was not in his remit. He wanted to show the whores that they had made themselves known to him with their fucking disgusting behaviour. They looked exactly what they were – cheap and nasty individuals. Oh, he didn’t feel any remorse for what he had done to them.

  Janet Cross was different. But he told himself that he had cut her off at the pass, because eventually she would have been just like the others. He knew exactly what these girls were really like. Janet Cross would have become a part of those whores’ world, because she was ripe for it. There was no escaping that fact. Eventually she would have succumbed, just like that cunt Kylie and that slag Destiny.

  He looked at the Polaroids once again, making sure that Janet Cross’s were left in the box. He knew that he had done the right thing, because he had a purpose. He had been planning this for a while, and he was pleased with what he had accomplished. He was systematically ridding the world of tainted, disgusting individuals who should never have been within his orbit anyway. They had been placed there for a reason, and that reason was so he could dispose of them while at the same time setting an example.

  Oh, he knew what he had to do, and he was determined to keep on doing it. That was what he had been put on this earth for. And it was what made him feel alive.

  Chapter Eighty-five

  Annie Carr was well aware she looked like shit. She had only slept intermittently for the last two weeks, and she was chasing what felt like a ghost. She still had no information of any import and that rankled, because she wanted to solve these girls’ murders more than anything – not for her, but for the families.

  As Kate poured her a glass of wine, she sat down in the large kitchen chair and sighed with relief. ‘Oh, Kate, you don’t know how good this feels, lady!’

  Kate grinned. ‘Oh yes, I do! I was you for years, remember.’

  Annie took a large gulp of wine before answering her. ‘I know that, darling. But it doesn’t make it any easier. Honestly, Kate, it’s like this fucker has some kind of divine protection going on, you know? He’s like the wind. We can’t get anything from the bodies because he soaks them in bleach. He’s clearly done his research on how to get rid of his DNA so as to remove anything that might be of value to us. I feel we’re being mocked! You know Margaret Dole – I mean, fucking hell, if she can’t find anything online then it isn’t there. As much as she can fuck me off – and, believe me, she does at times, the arrogant mare – I know that she is the future of policing. She fucking knows it too – cybercrime is the new big thing apparently, as she tells me daily. But this bastard! He’s like Margaret, I suppose, because he knows how to cover his tracks and keep under our radar. So as much as Margaret can irritate me, she is probably the most valuable officer we have right now. Did you know she was headhunted by the Met?’

  Kate shook her head in disbelief. ‘Bloody hell, Annie! And she refused?’

  Annie laughed nastily. ‘Oh yeah, she stayed. Because I think she knows she would be a small fish in a big pond, whereas here she’s the dog’s knob.’

  Kate laughed but, filling up the glasses, she said seriously, ‘She’s not going to win any popularity contests, I admit, but she is good at what she does, and that is what matters in the end. She certainly proved her worth on the Miriam Salter case and I know she tried her best to fit in with the team but I think she’s missing the likeability factor, as they call it. She will never be on my faves list, but I respect what she can do. If Margaret can’t find this fucker online then he has no presence there. Now that gives you a whole new set of possibilities, doesn’t it? It tells me you are dealing with Old School. Someone who might reject the new cyber generation and who doesn’t have an online persona. Not everyone is online, believe it or not. I was reading about silver surfers the other week, and I realised they were talking about me, my generation. All these people are now online and looking for love among other things. It’s a different world, so it needs a different style of policing. If Margaret Dole can’t find anything then I would lay my last fiver on the fact that there isn’t anything to find.’

  Annie knew that Kate was right. ‘But by the same token, Kate, she can’t find anything on CCTV anywhere that puts anyone in the vicinity of the girls’ abductions. That is practically unheard of these days. You and I know that the chance of being caught on camera somewhere is a given. But this fucker seems like he has a charmed life. Because there is fuck-all anywhere and, in fairness to Margaret Dole, she has looked. Credit where it’s due, she is there morning, noon and night, trawling through hours and hours of footage, and she has not found a fucking thing.’ Annie picked up her bag off the floor and, taking out a file, she threw it across the table to Kate. ‘On another note, this is what I found out about Bella. And it is not pleasant reading, I am afraid.’

  Kate hadn’t asked if Annie had had the chance to look into Bella’s past yet because she knew she had a lot on her plate. She’d been granted bail, thanks to her father-in-law’s connections, on the condition that she checked into a secure facility while she awaited her first court appearance. Patrick had found a good brief to represent her, and they were hoping to avoid a custodial sentence, but, as Patrick had pointed out, that depended on Bella using her loaf and doing what she was told to do. Joseph thought she would be sensible enough to listen, but Patrick wasn’t so sure – and neither was Kate. Bella was a loose cannon and, after what little Amanda had said, Kate had already guessed there was more to this story than met the eye.

  ‘I’ll pass it on to Patrick, but give me the low-down.’

  Annie lit another cigarette and said tiredly, ‘Bella has hurt someone before – badly, I might add. She was thirteen when she violently attacked another girl. No one seems to be able to understand why it happened. She ended up in the care system afte
r she was released from a juvenile facility. Her parents refused to have anything to do with her and she was basically left to fend for herself by sixteen. She seemed to be doing OK, according to the social worker reports. She did well in the education programmes and she basically kept her head down, her nose clean, and made another life for herself. As you and I both know, this was in the early days of computer records and she just slipped through the cracks. She accepted all the help on offer and then she was deemed fit to rejoin society. But reading between the lines, she is a fucking psychopath. There is a lack of real information in these files, and that tells me there was trouble but the social workers played it down. We both know how that works, don’t we?’

  Kate sighed; this was what she had feared. ‘Do you know the saddest thing, Annie? I actually feel sorry for her. I know how it feels to have the person you love treat you like shite. My ex-husband did it to me on more than one occasion.’

  Annie nodded and said seriously, ‘But you didn’t scar his lover, did you? In all honesty, Kate, I think the best thing for this mad bitch would be actual prison time, with the big girls who would walk over her like a cheap carpet. She needs to understand the seriousness of what she has done. She got a swerve the first time, and that makes her think she can do what she likes. She needs to take responsibility for her actions. She needs to be punished.’

  Kate could see that Annie had a point, but that wouldn’t stop Patrick and Joseph trying to get Bella a good deal for the children’s sakes. She wondered how they would feel when they saw this file and what Bella was capable of. She closed her eyes in distress, because she was sick and tired of it all.

  She looked at her friend, and she said sadly, ‘It’s like the world has gone fucking mad, Annie.’

  Annie Carr laughed then, a real laugh, loud and raucous. ‘Fuck me, Kate, I think that ship’s sailed, don’t you? We are living in a nightmare of a world, where people can hide behind a computer or a phone and do their worst. We are living in a world of faceless people who we call friends on social networks. We are living in a world where anything you want to know is at the touch of a button on a Google search engine. You know what someone said to me recently? Remember Jacqui Brown who runs the canteen – not the sharpest knife in the fucking drawer – she said that she didn’t understand why schools still handed out homework when her kids could find out what they wanted to know on their iPads. I think she has summed up what’s wrong with the world now. No one takes responsibility. There is always an answer at the touch of a button, and anyone, no matter how weird they are, can find like-minded people online. And what really scares me is we can’t find the fuckers, because they hide behind said computer screens.’

  Kate knew that what Annie said was true. But she also believed that, as police, they had to fight crime, no matter what. She raised her glass and said loudly, ‘To Margaret Dole.’

  And Annie clinked her glass against Kate’s, saying sadly, ‘To Margaret Dole – a pain in the arse, and the best weapon we have to hand!’ Then, after they had both taken a large gulp of wine, Annie held her glass up again and said, ‘Allegedly!’

  They were still laughing their heads off when Patrick came into the kitchen, saying, ‘So what’s the big joke, then, ladies?’

  They didn’t answer him – they were laughing too much.

  Eventually Kate handed him the file that Annie had given her, saying soberly, ‘I think you need to read this, Patrick – you and Joseph.’

  He took the file from her and he had a feeling from the expression on her face that it was not going to be good news.

  Kate said as much. ‘You and Joseph need to think long and hard about where you are going next where Bella is concerned, Pat. This isn’t going to help her in any way.’

  Patrick nodded, and Kate knew that he had guessed what Annie’s research would dig up. He was a lot of things but he wasn’t stupid.

  ‘I will leave you two ladies to talk while I have a look-see.’

  Annie looked at him and she said honestly, ‘Listen, Patrick, you and Joseph have to read that and take it in properly. I understand that Joseph feels guilty about what happened. But Bella can’t be allowed to walk away from this. I won’t let her. I need you to know that I can’t let her.’

  Patrick didn’t say a word; he just nodded and left the room.

  Annie turned to Kate, saying, ‘You know I am right, Kate.’

  And Kate refilled their wine glasses, before saying wearily, ‘I know, Annie. I know.’

  Chapter Eighty-six

  Patrick and Danny Foster were in their new offices in Tilbury. Patrick had recently purchased a scrapyard from an old mate who had felt the urge to go on the trot before it all fell out of bed for him. The scrapyard was completely legitimate, unlike his old mate’s other nefarious businesses, which had finally caught up with him. That was what happened these days. And Patrick Kelly knew that if you wanted to stay on the ball you had to make sure you kept up with the times. It was the only way to survive in their world.

  Patrick was glad that he wasn’t a young, up-and-coming Face in this new world. He felt like a fucking dinosaur at times, but he was sensible enough to realise that every generation had felt like that. There was always something new happening, and there were always people like himself, waiting to take advantage of those new opportunities. It was the law, because it was how newcomers made their mark. If you had half a brain, you used it to further your own ends. It was healthy and it was expected, because the young Faces needed someone to back their plans and utilise their ideas. They needed someone to see their vision and bankroll it, because that was how it had always worked.

  It was the same in every walk of life – there was the legit, and the not-so legit. It depended on what side of the road you chose to walk on. He had read in The Times that civilisation had come on more in the last thirty years than ever before in the history of man. He could believe that too. He didn’t envy the new generation of Faces. It was nigh on impossible to rob a fucking bank, let alone do a common-or-garden wages snatch! Money was nearly obsolete these days; it was all internet banking – not that he would trust anything like that himself. He still used cheques. But this new scrapyard was a perfect cash business – one of the few that was left, unfortunately.

  Danny Foster had invested in a lot of what he called online gaming. Turned out they were serious money-spinners. Patrick was sensible enough to have someone else look at the businesses, make sure Danny wasn’t having him over. He might not be a fucking contender for Eggheads, but it was common sense to always make sure he got a second opinion when it was deemed necessary. Patrick Kelly trusted Danny Foster, but it was second nature to him to have another set of eyes look into his interests. It was also to ensure that Danny Foster wasn’t being ripped off either. There was plenty of room for all that kind of skulduggery in their line of work. Even though his Kate had pointed out on more than one occasion that he didn’t need to keep such a beady eye on Danny.

  She felt he should take a big step back from everything, but that was easier said than done. He was supposed to be retired but anyone who knew him didn’t believe that for a second, and that included his Kate. She had even arranged for Margaret Dole to keep a clear eye on his businesses – for a fee, of course. Margaret Dole was the best of the best, and he respected her nous. He also liked that a Filth was on his payroll – it appealed to his sense of humour.

  Even so, Patrick Kelly still preferred a real cash business, and he guessed that was why Danny had invested in this scrapyard to keep him happy. He loved him for that; the boy was thinking of him, and that was a good thing. He appreciated that Danny Foster, who he trusted implicitly, had his best interests at heart. Not just financially but also in the physical sense. This was a hands-on business, and that was what he knew the best, like the lap-dancing clubs and the other so-called social businesses, restaurants and bars. But they were heavily reliant on credit cards, and even though they could launder money and wash the proceeds, he still liked to see ac
tual cash in his hand. Or, as he referred to it, ‘cash on the hip’, meaning in his pocket and tax free. That was why he liked the scrapyards.

  There would always be a need for this kind of business in the world they inhabited. A body could always be disposed of in the boot of a car that was to be crushed as scrap. There were a lot of things that could be disposed of in a scrapyard. Patrick should know – he had cut his teeth on similar money-making schemes.

  He walked into the Portakabin and was pleasantly surprised at how clean and tidy it was.

  Danny started laughing at his surprise, and he said jovially, ‘I fucking knew you would like this, Pat. I bought it off Jackie O’Toole, as you know, and I couldn’t believe it myself. But from what I can gather his wife has fucking terrible OCD and spends her life cleaning! The whole place is spotless.’

  Patrick laughed with him. ‘Believe it or not, Jackie’s wife was a real fucking looker in her day, and right on the ball and all. She could work out a fifty-horse accumulator in her head! Straight up. The days before the till could work out the bets, the people who worked in the betting shops had to be able to do their fucking sums! Right intelligent she was. She had legs that could get a man arrested, and the face of an angel. But she went a bit radio rental when her oldest boy was murdered and then her youngest son got thirty years. It is hard on the women, losing their sons to the prison system, especially when they are given a serious fucking lump. But Jackie still worships her, as I am sure you know.

  ‘Did you know Jackie used to have a hostess club in Soho? A right high-class place – beautiful girls there and a lot of money changed hands. I never once heard even a whisper of him playing away from home. I always respected him for that, Danny, because in our world it is so fucking easy to forget what really matters, you know? We have it offered to us on a plate on a daily basis. I loved my Renée, she was all I ever needed. Oh, I had a flyer occasionally but nothing that could get me slaughtered, because she would have walked away without a backward glance. And knowing that was what kept me on the straight and narrow, I suppose.’