by Deborah Lucy
Chapter 51
The press conference was heaving. Reporters were elbow to elbow, calibrating their cameras, balancing on one knee as they squeezed together, trying to keep it friendly and not get in each other’s way. They worked in the mixture of excitement and tension that was building in the room. There was press interest from around the world as well as the usual domestic suspects. They had almost set up camp outside Swindon police station with their satellite wagons. For a brief moment in time, the eyes of the world were centred on Swindon. It was sensationally macabre, an editor’s dream. ‘HANNIBAL HALLOWEEN HORROR’ the headlines screamed from the scant details already given.
DCS Clive Harker sat alongside DCC Buller and amongst the many clicking camera shutters, they outlined how Porten had pleaded guilty to multiple counts of murder of street dwellers and had sold the meat he had butchered from their bodies before incinerating their remains. They detailed how Porten had come to their attention, the involvement of Temple and DS Mendoza and how they had a lot of work still to do as early indications were that Porten was prolific. There was a collective closing of camera shutters at that point.
It was understood that, due to the number of years over which this had occurred, they could not be sure how many murders may have been committed. They didn’t know if they ever would be. The identities of many of the people he’d murdered were unknown. Enquiries were ongoing and if anyone had any further information about anyone they suspected could be one of the victims, they were to call a dedicated line. Now behind bars, Porten was to be the subject of numerous psychiatric reports before sentencing.
Alongside Buller and Harker sat a representative from Public Health England, to reassure the local populace that it was unlikely there was still human meat in the food chain and that, as unpleasant as this was, there was no actual danger to the health of unwitting consumers. The press conference was over.
* * *
In his cell, Brian Porten was bewildered by it. He still firmly believed he was doing society a favour by taking homeless people off the streets, and nothing could shake him from that view.
‘Where was the harm?’ he said to the psychiatrist. ‘Really, where was the harm? Who missed them?’
In light of their premature deaths at his hand, the homeless murdered by Porten were given an almost martyr-like status from the red tops. The case sparked widespread alarm and uproar. How was it that people could just disappear off the streets without anyone knowing? How could Porten have operated for so long without anyone being aware? Why wasn’t he stopped before? There were calls for a registration system for homeless people to keep tabs on their whereabouts, ensuring it didn’t happen again. Even an ‘adopt a homeless person’ initiative gathered pace on a crowd-funding website.
In the midst of all this, DS Sam Mendoza handed in his resignation and was working a month’s notice. Despite his efforts in coming to Temple’s rescue and being the arresting officer for Brian Porten, there was no going back for him. The odds were stacked against him. It was either resign or be fired, and he knew what would look best on his next job application. Temple had tried to persuade him otherwise but he was adamant it was time for him to cut his losses and go.
‘At least this way, I go out on a high. My name’s all over the papers and I got to nick a serial killer. I’ve already put it on my CV. This’ll be good for me. I’ve already made various contacts with some ex-Met. They’ve got some private security firm running in Belgravia, providing services to the rich and don’t-want-to-be-famous, so hopefully that’ll work out. It’s like the Wild West up there, so there should be plenty of work.’
‘Stay in touch. I could do with a good contact. And thanks, Sam.’
‘I’ll let you know how it is on the outside.’
Temple was in his office. He was moving and had to clear the misper files from his desk and inbox. They were going to someone else who was in the shit to look at. The other guys in the office were envious. They couldn’t quite work out how he’d managed it but suddenly the disciplinary hearing against him was dropped. They called him Harry Houdini. His fed rep inspector Bob May said that, in all his time, he’d never seen anything like it.
‘You had one foot out the door, in fact – no – your foot was the only thing left in,’ he told him over the phone. ‘Everything was against you. Then there’s a “closed-door meeting” and all’s forgiven. I can’t find out what happened. You’d better watch your step in future. My experience is, if they didn’t get you this time, they’ll get you next time and hard. They’ve got long memories. That’s my advice.’
Temple knew he was probably right. There was unlikely to be another situation that presented itself as this one had. It had been a pretty close call. Temple hadn’t told anyone about his bargain with Harker, nor would he. For his part, Harker had persuaded Buller that he’d always suspected Sloper and had used Temple in a covert capacity with the Ashton-Jones case to provide the cover required to see if his gut instinct was right. At the end, things had moved too fast, he told Buller, for them to stop and risk everything and they’d had no choice but to carry on, hoping for the right result. Harker told Buller he knew it was messy and unconventional and he wouldn’t do it again. He hoped the end justified the means.
‘But you encouraged me to suspend Temple,’ Buller said, testing Harker’s explanation of events. ‘You showed me a tape of him taking DNA kits from custody.’
‘I did, sir, yes. It had to look real. We had to maintain cover. I called the sergeant to escort him off the premises if you remember. I knew if I did that, it would be all around the force within the hour, which of course, again helped to ensure the operation remained covert.’ When his own reputation depended on it, he found it easy to lie.
Buller had looked at Harker a little too long with his small pig-like eyes before giving his opinion.
‘I’m having trouble believing a fucking word of it, Clive. I don’t know what’s gone on here and I’ll probably never know, but what I do know is that a detective sergeant is on the run from custody.’ Buller knew that he’d been used. He was angry. The only saving grace was that Sloper, a bent cop, had been winkled out of the force.
‘Never,’ he said, ‘use me like that or leave me on the outside again, Clive. And, Clive,’ Buller knew when to take advantage of a situation, ‘you owe me for this. And I’ll be collecting.’
It was never a good thing to owe a chief officer, particularly one in charge of discipline. But Harker felt he could make up the lack of trust he knew Buller felt towards him now; he would rather that than the alternative of having a whole department or force distrusting him. Besides, right now, despite Buller, the chief constable thought the sun shone out of his arse. The cells were full with a serial killer and human traffickers, and that all equalled community confidence – policing gold.
* * *
Temple had his warrant card back and was going back to the main CID office. And there was a glimmer of hope: there was a vacancy on the Major Crime Unit and he’d put in an application for it. He didn’t know how far his favour would stretch with Clive Harker but he thought he’d try it out and see. He knew it wouldn’t last long. He was an unforgiving Scot after all. But he needed Harker’s endorsement for his application and now was the best chance he’d ever have to ask for it.
Feeling his mobile vibrate, Temple looked at his messages. It was a text from Amy Davidson. She was asking if there’d been any update on the enquiry into China Lewis. She had reported China missing again when she found she had gone from her bedroom after she woke up. That was nearly a week ago.
Temple had ramped it up. Gary Lewis had been arrested and questioned and teams had gone into known trap houses looking for China, disrupting drugs gangs and county lines operatives as they scurried away, temporarily giving Swindon a wide berth but only until the heat was off.
In amongst all the activity, a drug dealer named as Lordon Hayter had been found badly wounded. A strange scene greeted the officers when he was disc
overed sitting at his kitchen table, which was awash with blood. Both of his hands had been hacked off with a cleaver and lay in front of him on the table. The hands were still wearing blue latex gloves. It had taken them a while to realise he also had a gunshot wound to the leg. The bloke was barely alive. But despite all the efforts to find her, no one had seen China. Temple couldn’t stop thinking about her. She had to be somewhere, she couldn’t just disappear.
He’d seen Megon and taken a statement from her. He’d listened as Megon had quietly described China and how she’d looked out for her.
‘She was fearless,’ she sniffed, her tears brimming in her eyes and running down her cheeks. ‘She tried to look out for me. She tried to keep me safe but it was no use against them. She stood up to them though, she wouldn’t let them beat her.’ Megon gasped her way through her tears. Temple felt wretched for her. He could see that Megon was broken by China’s disappearance.
‘You will keep searching for her, won’t you? You must – she’s out there with them. That scum with the clouded eye. They’ll know where she is. You must find her,’ Megon pleaded.
Temple promised that he’d keep looking until he found her, like he’d promised Amy. He tasked himself with leaving no stone unturned. But he still couldn’t find her. It was as if she’d vanished off the face of the earth. Even after turning the trap houses over, there was no trace of her.
To put China in the public consciousness, he involved the press. The local papers were now running an ongoing campaign to find her – ‘CONCERN FOR MISSING TEEN’ with the photo supplied by Amy. The nationals had picked it up but only in terms of a column filler, because it was Brian Porten who was stealing all the headlines at the moment and had done for days as the grim story continued to unfold. China had been relegated to the inside pages.
Chapter 52
When Fin Chadwick thumbed through the Wiltshire Daily Record, he missed the headlines. But he didn’t miss the photo of China Lewis. Her face leapt out at him and kicked him in the guts. He would never forget her. He hadn’t been able to. She’d haunted every minute of his day since. Her face was different of course; the picture he looked at was of a live girl, young, pretty with blonde hair and a pout. The face he’d seen had been set in the grimace of a violent death. But it was her. He was sure about that.
His mouth went dry. Snatches of words that he’d read penetrated his panic. Concern for her safety. Hasn’t been seen for a week. Fourteen. Whereabouts unknown. He closed the paper. He couldn’t read any more. He suddenly leapt up like a scalded cat and paced the Portakabin. It wasn’t hot and yet he wiped at the beads of sweat that had appeared on his brow. So, she was a local girl. Fuck. Too close to home. Too close to him. He probably knew someone who knew her. Oh God.
Well, he could tell them where she was. He was in no doubt that was the girl he had found in the boot of the car in his yard, the girl he had removed and buried in the woods. But how could he possibly tell them where she was? How would he explain it?
He’d only found her; he hadn’t murdered her. Now the police were looking for her. They should have found her in the car before they brought it here. If he went to them now, they would never believe him. He wanted to tell them where she was. But he couldn’t. How could he?
She haunted him like a ghost. The look of terror on her face. The sickening loll of her head when he’d moved her had turned his stomach. It revealed a wound to her neck that was so deep, it had almost cut her head from her body. And as he’d moved her, he’d struggled to keep the two parts together, terrified that if he didn’t support her head, it would fall to the ground. Although she was dead, he knew he just had to keep her head in place.
He’d never forget standing over her as he laid her in the grave he’d dug for her. She’d been such a pitiful sight. She was so small. He knew he would never get rid of the sight of her. He’d never get the cuts and bruises on her body out of his mind. He knew he’d never be able to forget her face. Her face. That terrible look of fear. He’d felt ill ever since. He couldn’t eat and he’d barely slept.
Perhaps he should just pick up the phone and tell them where she was. Perhaps he could do it anonymously. What could he do? There she was in the newspaper, everyone asking where she was and he knew. He knew exactly where she was.
They would never believe him. He’d have to stay quiet. There was nothing to lead them to him. He’d wait until they found the murderer, then he would help them. Until then, he’d have to try and blank out her face from his mind.
Only he knew she wouldn’t go away. It was no good. Her face never left him. If he shut his eyes, she was there. He couldn’t stop thinking about her from the minute he woke. She was constantly with him. She was tormenting him.
He thought of her lying in the grave in the woods. What if they didn’t find who killed her? What if the trail went cold and only he knew she was there? How could he keep that terrible secret to himself for the rest of his days? Knowing she was lying out there, under the darkness of the trees. He could still feel his sweat and hear the sound of the shovel as it sliced through the earth. He knew he would never forget anything about that night for as long as he lived. It had been his own personal horror show ever since. It would send him mad.
He looked back at the newspaper he had discarded. Maybe there was something. Someone. One person he could call. The only person likely to believe him. He paced around, thinking, his mind speeding through scenarios, trying to work it out. How to reveal the girl’s whereabouts and avoid being labelled a murderer. No, it wouldn’t work. No matter which way he turned it, he couldn’t see a way through. He couldn’t go to prison. Not now, not at his time of life. Not for something he hadn’t done. Not for murder.
He took a deep breath. He had to do it. It was the only way. He had to find peace again. Get her face out of his mind. He flicked back through his newspaper and found the printed mobile number. He dialled and waited for the phone to be answered.
‘Hello, DI Temple?’
Chapter 53
‘I know you did your best,’ Paul Wallace tried to reassure Temple. ‘You helped me to find my Megon. I’ll always be grateful for you listening to me and helping me.’
Temple had the phone pressed to his ear. ‘It was more a case that you helped me, Paul. We had China. They were all together. I don’t know why she didn’t stay with her friend Amy Davidson. It’s not what I wanted for her. It’s a tragic outcome. How is Megon? How did she take the news?’
‘She’s heartbroken. China was her friend and she can’t believe she’s dead. She doesn’t want to go out. She has nightmares, the most awful night terrors. The news about China has broken her. The doctor’s recommended a counsellor, which might help. She won’t really speak about what happened to her but the main thing is she’s with us, back safe. She’s alive. We’ll look after her.’
‘She’s a good girl, she’ll get her strength back. She gave us lots of valuable intelligence about the bastard. And at least we’ve got him. He was picked up yesterday. Tarek Sulaj is now in custody.’
They said their goodbyes. It was small comfort that Sulaj was in custody for the murder of China. Like Amy and Megon, Temple would never forget her. He’d never forget the sight of her in the shallow grave dug by Fin Chadwick.
* * *
Temple couldn’t quite believe it when Chadwick rang him.
‘You need to get a team and go out to West Woods. The girl that’s missing, China Lewis, she’s buried there. I’ll show you.’
He’d known Chadwick on and off over the years. He’d sailed close to the wind in some of his dealings but it was always petty stuff, a bit of handling, nothing exciting. But his call changed that. Chadwick took them to a spot in the woods and stood by with Temple while a team of four officers with shovels set about moving the earth. As soon as they found her, Temple arrested him and had him taken away.
Temple stayed and watched as the scene was unearthed; watched as they slowly removed the soil until only China was left in the
grave. With other officers, he looked at her tiny, naked body, laid out by Chadwick, her head to one side, pushed that way by the weight of the soil. The deep slash in her throat was evident, as were the cuts and bruises. The violence meted out on her tiny frame made him feel sick. They had just about caught the body in time before it started to putrefy. Before the evidence was lost.
Then the forensics arrived, put up the tent, their lights, put on their suits and, clicking their cameras, they moved in to recover all they could. Temple stayed, silently going in and out of the tent, not wanting to leave her alone now he’d found her. Not until she was taken out of the ground. Taken off to the morgue.
Chadwick had been interviewed and his story checked out. The two officers who had found the Audi were adamant that there was no body in the car but as Chadwick described how she was found, the officer conducting the search had to admit he’d never searched the boot of the car. Chadwick was charged with unlawful burial and released from custody.
Amy had described China telling her about the guy with one eye; Paul and Megon had first-hand sighting of him and could put him in the town centre in the early hours of the same morning that China had left Amy’s. No one had seen her since. The battle scars he was so proud of marked him out and once put on notice to find him, officers quickly picked Sulaj up on a cross-Channel ferry. He was still carrying the knife he’d used to kill her.
Temple felt he’d let China down. He turned the events over and over in his mind. He’d found her once, her and Amy, he’d rescued her from Gary Lewis’s car. If Sloper hadn’t coshed him that night, he would have gone back to Amy Davidson’s and taken a statement from them both. He could have made arrangements for China to be safe. He was sure they would have found Megon and there would have been no need for China to go out and look for her.
