The Silent Girls

by Dylan Young

  ‘And Roger Willis?’

  Joan’s brows furrowed. She shook her head. ‘He was a nice boy. Always polite when I met him in the village. I could hardly credit him and Emily… Stupid to fall like that.’

  Bill came back in with a battered tray laden with mugs and a steaming teapot. He poured out a dark infusion that turned a sienna colour with the addition of milk, and handed Anna a mug with a faded photograph of Charles and Diana on the side.

  ‘Uh, thank you,’ Anna said and took a tentative sip. The tannins were bitter and the liquid scalding.

  The sound of a car pulling up drew Bill to the window.

  ‘’Ello,’ he said cheerfully peering out, ‘more visitors.’

  Joan squinted above the rim of her cup and caught Anna glancing up at the photographs on the wall. Among those of Emily, one stood out. A black and white image in a black frame beneath a cross. A baby. Tiny, wrapped in shawls.

  ‘That’s Emily’s sister.’

  ‘I didn’t know she had a sister?’

  ‘She don’t. She died soon after that photo was taken. I keeps her picture up there with Emily.’

  ‘I’m so sorry…’

  ‘Don’t be. These things… they happen. Some people thinks it’s to do with living here. Them pylons over at the electric station.’ Anna didn’t respond. She waited for Joan to continue.

  ‘Well, it does happen, doesn’t it? Mary Trimble from Hassett is convinced to this day that her trouble started with the accident she witnessed.’

  ‘And what trouble was that, Mrs Risman?’

  ‘You’ll probably think me daft.’ Joan’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘No, tell me, I’m interested.’

  Joan glanced across at her husband and leaned in close to Anna, her overall straining to contain the flesh within. ‘Her Jenny was born funny, you know. Bits of what should have been inside on the outside. Terrible it was. Poor little thing lived for almost five months over there in Gloucester.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Anna commiserated.

  ‘She can talk about it now. She must have been five months gone when the accident happened in Hassett. Hay lorry coming down Bird Hill, lost control and went straight into the ironmonger’s there. Four people there was in that shop. Didn’t stand a chance. Mary Trimble was in the baker’s opposite. She was almost the first there. The first to get to those people smashed up in that shop.’

  ‘She thinks the trauma had an effect on her unborn child?’ Anna’s question was for her own clarification and Joan nodded, sagely.

  ‘Stands to reason, doesn’t it?’

  Anna opened her mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come. She couldn’t remember who said that superstition was the religion of the feeble. However arcane, it was in a way understandable in that it provided an explanation, a way of rationalising fate. It may well have been laughable and derisory, but clearly it was something Joan believed. A part of Anna wanted to pour scorn on this ignorant superstition, point out to this woman how ludicrous all this was. But the look of concern and, yes, pity almost in the woman’s eyes, made her falter. No wonder she wanted to accept that Cooper killed Emily. After the media sensationalised the Woodsman, she must have clung to the idea that Cooper was guilty, and found it the only solace, the only resolution. Anna knew that two or three glib sentences would not dismiss a hundred years of rural myth. Instead, biting back her cynicism and knowing how proud Shipwright would have been of her restraint, she humoured Joan.

  ‘Yes, it is dreadful when things like that happen.’

  The doorbell rang and Bill shuffled off to answer it, just as Holder appeared in the doorway, phone still in his hand and his face troubled.

  ‘Uh, ma’am, could I have a private word?’

  Anna stood and walked into the kitchen. Along the hallway, she glanced at Bill. He stood outside on the threshold talking to someone, voices muffled through the half-closed door. Holder leaned in and spoke in hushed tones.

  ‘That was Ryia. There’s been a development in the Hopkins case. They’ve found something incriminating at Cooper’s workplace.’

  Anna stared at him.

  ‘Cooper’s in custody, ma’am, and apparently all hell is breaking loose.’

  ‘Shit.’

  Bill came back in to the hallway. Two people stood beyond the door. A woman and a man. Both mid-thirties, the woman dressed in tight black jeans and a heavy coat, the man in a dark woollen beanie and cargo pants, hauling a heavy camera bag.

  ‘Joan’ – Bill addressed his wife in a shocked voice –‘it’s the papers. They want to speak to us. They’re saying that bastard Cooper’s done it again.’

  Anna squeezed her eyes shut. This was not good. Sighing, she said, ‘There’s nothing here for us. This is old ground. Come on.’ She hurried to the living room. ‘Thanks for talking to us. We—’

  ‘Is that why you came?’ Joan’s voice was a hoarse whisper. ‘To tell us he’s done it again?’

  ‘No.’ Anna shook her head. ‘This is—’

  Bill’s mouth hardened. ‘You let him out. You let that monster get away.’

  ‘You’ll have to excuse us,’ said Anna. ‘We’ll be in touch.’

  ‘We trusted the police. We trusted you!’ Joan’s shouts followed them out as they left the house, watched with interest by the two people on the path.

  ‘Hi,’ said the woman. ‘Did I just hear the word “police”?’

  ‘Excuse us,’ said Anna and walked away, Holder right behind her.

  ‘Are you here because of Neville Cooper?’ The question echoed in the still air.

  Bill appeared in the doorway, his face mottled with anger. ‘Why didn’t you tell us he’d done it again?’

  They were at the car and opening the doors. When Anna looked up it was into the lens of a very big camera pointed in her direction. She heard the ominous sound of a motor drive’s rapid clicking before the engine fired and she accelerated away.

  Fourteen

  Anna drove hard until she reached the rear of the station in Gloucester. As soon as they were through security she could sense the electric anticipation filling the air. There were even more people there than she remembered from her last visit. Curious eyes followed her and Holder as they made their way purposefully through the building. Slack met them and took them to an anteroom next to the room where Cooper was being interviewed.

  On a screen in front of her, Anna watched the scene.

  Harris sat opposite two men across a table. Anna recognised one of them instantly. Cooper, the wiry youth, had grown into portly middle age. Under a faded orange T-shirt, his arms were flabby and his fingers thick. It looked like his cheeks had been ravaged by years of anti-epileptic drugs, bringing with them florid acne as an unwelcome guest. A row of brown and uneven teeth showed through behind his full, but parted lips.

  If ever there had been an image that was easy to despise, Neville Cooper epitomised it. He sat with his head bent, eyes downcast and away from Harris’s predatory stare.

  ‘Who’s the other man?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Howard Tobias, Cooper’s solicitor,’ Slack explained.

  The name rang a faint bell in Anna’s memory. Images of a triumphant, bespectacled face amid Cooper and his small group of supporters on the steps of the High Court sprang to mind. Now that same full face looked agitated and angry, staring defiantly at Harris across the table.

  ‘I want fifteen minutes alone with my client, please.’

  ‘We need to finish the interview,’ Harris said.

  ‘And I’m telling you that you’re already pushing your luck. Mr Cooper has already been questioned exhaustively in my absence. Now, I’d like fifteen minutes, alone.’

  Harris stood and waved away the uniformed man from inside the door.

  ‘And I want that thing off while I have it.’ Tobias waved a hand towards the camera.

  Harris put a hand up and the image faded from the screen as a technician closed down the video camera. Fifteen seconds later, Harris came in, grinnin
g.

  ‘We’ve got the bastard on the ropes.’ He turned to the technician. ‘Gemmel, let’s have a look.’

  The screen filled with a poorer quality view looking down at the two men in the interview room.

  ‘What are they saying?’ Harris asked.

  The sound of Tobias’s entreating voice emerged from a speaker above them.

  ‘You’ve got nothing to worry about, Neville. They’re intimidating you to try to get you to say something you don’t mean.’

  Holder exchanged glances with Anna, who rounded on Harris. ‘We shouldn’t be listening to this. He’s asked for the camera to be turned off.’

  ‘This is a security camera,’ Harris said, turning to Anna and frowning, as if registering her presence for the first time. ‘And why are you even here?’

  Anna turned to Slack, who kept his eyes averted and shifted uncomfortably. Holder just shook his head.

  Harris watched their reactions in turn with a defiant grin before motioning to Gemmel. ‘Turn it off. Apparently, it’s offending these officers.’

  This man is a power junkie.

  ‘You’ve filled in Inspector Gwynne, Sergeant?’ Harris asked. He delivered ‘Inspector’ again with sardonic emphasis.

  ‘The basics sir, yes.’

  Harris turned to Anna, his lids at half-mast. ‘Then there’s no reason for you to stay, is there?’

  ‘I’m still unclear on several points,’ she said.

  Harris didn’t reply right away. But she could see he was pumped and confident enough to indulge her.

  ‘You found something at Cooper’s workplace?’

  ‘In his locker at the feed mill. Bloodstained tape. Blood that matches Nia Hopkins’ type,’ Harris informed her. ‘DNA will take a day, but in the meantime, it was enough for a search warrant of Cooper’s home.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And in his dirty little garage, among the dirty little rags he cleans his dirty little bike with was a pair of women’s underwear. Bloodstained knickers.’ Harris’s enunciation was full of that irritating defiance.

  ‘Is that it?’

  Harris snorted in disbelief. ‘Nia’s mother has confirmed that they are very likely the missing pair.’

  ‘Very likely?’ Anna repeated.

  ‘What more do you bloody want?’ Harris’s eyes bulged.

  Anna ignored his belligerence. ‘How did he react when you arrested him?’

  ‘Did two cartwheels and a forward roll. How do you think he reacted? He almost crapped himself. He started shaking because he knew we’d got him this time. And this time there will be no mistakes. No bullshit.’

  ‘Like that you mean?’ Anna glanced over at the now empty screen.

  Harris smiled and shook his head. ‘That was just a bit of fun. Sorry that you don’t see it that way. It’s obvious that your little investigation hasn’t produced much of a result for you. I could have told you that it was a complete waste of time. You’re looking for something that doesn’t exist.’

  ‘You know that for certain then, do—’

  Harris cut across Anna’s protests. ‘There is only one killer and he’s next door with his liberal-minded, bleeding-heart solicitor.’ He drew himself up. ‘I don’t want you here, in case you hadn’t guessed. But I’ve been told to share intelligence, which is what I’m doing. But make no mistake, this is my case. My patch. And the sooner you get back to Bristol and sergeant status the better, as far as I’m concerned.’

  ‘Are you married, Inspector?’

  Harris smiled again here. ‘Fifteen years. Second time around. This one’s a keeper.’

  ‘Cooper has been inside longer than you’ve been married. And possibly for no reason whatsoever.’

  Harris smile turned into a sour sneer. ‘I’ve got no time for this. You’re welcome to watch, but then you can piss off down the M5.’ He turned and left.

  Slack waited until the door closed completely before commenting. ‘You got nothing at all out of visiting the crime scene, then?’

  Holder shook his head. ‘Old ground.’

  ‘I need more time,’ Anna said.

  ‘Not on DCI Harris’s agenda, that.’ Slack massaged the bridge of his nose.

  ‘I had noticed.’

  ‘In fact, the word is he’s opened a book on the time it takes.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘For him to get a confession out of Cooper.’

  ‘A confession? He can’t be serious.’

  ‘Wait ten minutes, you’ll find out.’

  ‘Is he going back in there?’ Anna asked Slack.

  As SIO, Harris’s job was to coordinate the investigation. Interviews were normally the role of operational officers like Slack or a DI.

  Slack shook his head. ‘I don’t know anyone in this station with the bottle to tell him to stay out.’

  ‘But normally—’

  ‘Normally is a ship that sailed a long time ago in this case, ma’am,’ was all Slack could offer by way of explanation.

  * * *

  Harris recommenced exactly fifteen minutes after he’d walked out of the room.

  ‘Time is five thirty p.m., Gloucester police station, interview room three. Present are DCI Alan Harris, Neville Cooper and Howard Tobias. Neville, I’m going to make this as simple as I can. Now that Mr Tobias is here, are you prepared to answer my questions?’

  ‘Yeah. Yes, sir.’

  Harris smiled. In charge. Back in the driving seat. ‘Good. So, can you tell me how it was that we found duct tape in your locker at the feed mill?’

  Cooper shook his head. ‘Don’t know, sir.’

  ‘You’re the only one with a key, aren’t you?’

  ‘I think so. Yeah.’

  Harris kept it light. ‘So, you have the only key and you don’t know how the duct tape got there, have I got that right?’

  ‘I don’t know—’

  ‘We found blood on that tape, Neville.’

  Cooper looked up, frowning. ‘I didn’t put it there.’

  Harris waited a beat, changed tack. ‘How do you get to work, Neville?’

  ‘I’ve got a motorbike now.’

  ‘I thought epileptics weren’t allowed to drive?’ Harris turned to Tobias.

  ‘Neville hasn’t had a fit for six years. He passed his test a month ago. First time.’

  Harris turned back to Cooper. ‘Where do you keep the bike, Neville?’

  ‘At home, in the garage.’

  ‘Keep it locked up, do you? Not outside where everyone can see it?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Like working in the feed mill, too, do you?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘What sort of work do you do there?’

  ‘In the warehouse. Making sure the bags are stacked OK.’

  Harris nodded. ‘Good job, is it?’

  ‘I’ve got some mates there.’

  ‘Ever see the boss there?’

  ‘Sam’s my boss.’

  Harris consulted some papers. ‘Sam? He’s the foreman, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yeah, Sam.’

  ‘I don’t mean Sam. I mean the big boss, Mr Hopkins.’

  ‘Sometimes. I see him sometimes.’

  ‘Does he ever come in with his family?’

  Cooper concentrated. ‘I saw him once with his kids. He had a big car, pulling a horsebox.’

  ‘So you saw the kids, did you?’

  ‘Two girls and a boy.’

  ‘You go out for spins on your bike, Neville?’

  ‘Sometimes. On weekends.’

  ‘Only on weekends? I would have thought you’d be itching to get out there?’

  ‘I would but… my mum isn’t well.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that, Neville. So on the night Nia Hopkins was abducted, you were at home looking after your mother?’

  ‘Yeah. Yes, sir.’

  ‘Didn’t go out for a ride after she’d gone to bed?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  Harris leaned forward, elbows on the t
able, dropping his voice. ‘See, I’m wondering if you might have gone over to visit Mr Hopkins that night on your bike.’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Nice spin. Half an hour would it be?’

  ‘Yeah, maybe, I’m not sure…’

  ‘And I’m wondering if you went up there and saw a light on in the stable.’

  Tobias interrupted. ‘Chief Inspector, my client has already indicated that he was at home that night.’

  ‘And I’m just trying to get everything straight in my head, Mr Tobias. See, Neville, you’ve got to try to see it from my point of view. Here you are, just out of prison for murder—’

  Tobias interjected. ‘I’m warning you—’

  ‘Just out of prison with everything going for you, and suddenly there’s another girl raped and stabbed to death.’

  Cooper shook his head. ‘It wasn’t me…’

  Harris persisted. ‘Another girl stabbed to death just like Emily Risman.’

  Tobias said, ‘That’s quite enough, Superintendent. Mr Cooper has been acquitted…’

  ‘And then,’ Harris said, loudly, ‘if that’s not enough, we find Nia Hopkins’ blood in your locker. Sixteen, Neville. She was sixteen. How did that get there, Neville?’

  ‘No… it wasn’t me.’

  ‘I want this interview terminated now,’ Tobias said. ‘These constant references to Emily Risman are intolerable.’

  ‘The facts indicate that the two cases are linked, Mr Tobias. Am I supposed to ignore the facts?’ Harris glared at the solicitor.

  ‘I don’t know how,’ Cooper said.

  ‘We’ve heard that one, Neville. Tell us another one. Tell us the one about you finding the girls asleep in that stable. Tell us what you did to them. Tell us where you keep the knife. Tell us, because it’s the only hope you’ve got here, Neville. Think about what a jury’s going to believe if we take this to court and you keep on denying it. Cry wolf, Neville. They’re not going to give you a second chance. But if you tell us, maybe we can find you somewhere better to go to. Somewhere where they’re not going to eat up child killers for breakfast.’

  Cooper looked horrified. ‘NO!’ His denial emerged with a sob.