Waking Broken

by Huw Thomas

  He shrugged. ‘Now, shall I tell you what I don’t know?’

  Cole rolled his eyes. ‘How long’s that going to take?’

  The detective’s expression didn’t change. ‘Oh, I could go on for a while. But I tell you what: I’ll just stick to the main points about what I don’t know. Like, the fact I don’t know how many other women have gone missing. Like the fact that for all your concern about your sister, you haven’t actually taken the trouble to report her missing.’

  ‘Oh for fuck’s sake!’ Cole gestured in disbelief. ‘I’ve told you, haven’t I? You want me to fill in forms as well?’

  ‘You’ve told me as a way of using our friendship to try and persuade me to find out information for you,’ said Glasgow. ‘I’m not sure I’d go so far as to say you’ve reported it. But, hey, let’s not argue about that. I know you’re upset about your sister, I believe you about that.’

  ‘I should fuckin’ think so,’ snarled Cole.

  Glasgow exhaled slowly. ‘But that’s just one of the things I don’t know. You see; there’s a whole list of things I don’t know. Like I said, because hardly anyone reports anything officially, I don’t know how many women have really gone missing. I don’t know whether I’m hearing a few rumours about lots of different girls or lots of different rumours about a few girls. I’ve got no details for most of these girls, let alone what’s supposed to have happened to them. Most of them, I don’t even know what their name is. Or if the name I’ve got is their real name, or when they were supposed to go missing, where they were living, if they had a pimp, or who their pimp was, who their friends were, or what area they worked.’

  He was silent for a moment and then shook his head. ‘Nelson, you know what it’s like. We’re the police. Most of these girls don’t trust us. They get picked up for soliciting or busted for drugs. Their lives are a mess at the best of times. We can’t just stroll up and start asking loads of questions because they either won’t talk to us, they deny everything, or they tell us stuff we can’t prove or disprove. We need information.’

  He shook his head. ‘We’ve got some snouts but not enough: not reliable ones. Without facts there’s not much chance of working out what’s going on. I mean: some of these girls might just have gone off to work somewhere else. Maybe they owed a dealer money they couldn’t pay and did a flit, or they wanted a change. Who knows? Without even having names… well, it’s a bit much expecting us to solve the case when no one will help us even prove there’s a crime.’

  Cole was silent for a moment. He looked at Glasgow in disgust and then sneered. ‘Oh, you poor fuckin’ copper. Am I supposed to feel sorry for you? Get real, my friend. Yeah, I know these girls don’ like talkin’ to you. Not really much of a surprise is it. But why do you have to have everythin’ in fuckin’ triplicate before you get off your backsides and start doin’ some work? You said you’ve got three girls reported missin’ and I’ve given you plenty of information about my sister. I mean, yeah, I ain’t gone down the nick and filled in a form to say somethin’s happened but do you really need that? I know she ain’t got problems with any dealer and she wouldn’t just do a bunk like that. She’s a professional woman, runs a business, owns her own house. I mean sure it ain’t exactly legit or respectable but it’s what she does an’ she’s happy with it. She got a call and it was dodgy. Someone set her up and no one’s seen her since. Whoever called her to that hotel wasn’t kosher. Used a stolen card too. And left instructions to go to some restaurant. But she never made it, did she.’

  Cole strode back to the table. He slung himself into his chair and thumped both fists down. ‘If that’s not fuckin’ evidence then you tell me what is. You know the details. What the fuck have you done about it?’

  ‘Hah!’ Glasgow brought his hands round from behind his head and put them on the table, turning to face Cole. ‘What I’ve done is done what I can with the evidence I’ve been given. We’ve made enquiries and we’re still following up leads. It would help if you made it official, reported Stacey missing. Then, perhaps, we could launch a proper inquiry, rather than this softly-softly, operating-by-the-backdoor operation we’ve got going at the moment. And, before you complain, don’t forget that’s mainly down to you. It was you that asked me to keep it discrete, you that asked me to “see what I could find out”. Remember?’

  The policeman stared Cole in the eye. ‘You want us to get serious? Then quit pissing about and co-operate. Stop wanting to act the detective yourself and give me information. Not just about Stacey but about all the others as well. Don’t piss around trying to do my job so you can get your hands on whoever took your sister. All you’re going to achieve is to fuck up the operation, frighten people off and ruin the evidence. You want to find out what happened to your sister and catch whoever’s responsible? Then start helping me for a change, instead of asking me to do things I can’t.’

  Cole blinked a few times. ‘Okay, you want it all your way? You want me to make it official? All right, I’ll go down the station and I’ll report Stacey missin’. But just tell me one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Smith Street, where you had that spot sealed off. What was goin’ on down there then? I hear there was somethin’ nasty down in the sewer. I was told you were lookin’ for a body. Is that right?’

  Glasgow was silent for a moment. ‘We had a tip-off,’ he admitted. ‘It wasn’t quite what we were told. We did find something but it wasn’t a body. We’re still looking into it.’

  ‘So what did you find?’

  The policeman shook his head. ‘I don’t want to go into the details.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Glasgow scowled. ‘Because I’m fed up with dealing with bloody rumours. The more we talk about what we do, the more stories spread. And, at the moment, rumours are all we’ve got and they’re the bane of my life. Also, the less we make public, the easier it is to catch people out when we find out they know something they shouldn’t. I don’t want to discuss what we’re up to. My job is to gather information so I can do something about it, not spread gossip. What I want is facts.’

  ‘Oh, come on, Rob.’ Cole tried a conciliatory look that turned into a kind of pout. ‘I thought you were supposed to be my friend. I don’t want to spread rumours any more than you do. I just want to know what’s goin’ on, get some idea what you’ve found out.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘If I know what you’re lookin’ into, might make it easier for me to find out information that helps.’

  Glasgow snorted. ‘No dice, Nelson. I don’t want you “finding out” information. I just want to know what you know. I don’t want some parallel investigation run by you or anyone else. Smith Street has got nothing to do with you or Stacey and I’m not giving you briefings on whatever takes your fancy. I start leaking stuff to you; it makes it that much harder to pin things down when we do get a suspect. I want stuff only we know; that’s how we catch them. It’s how we make it stick when we get them to court and it’s how we convict them.’

  Cole leant back. The tic on his forehead had reappeared but he did not look at Glasgow. He appeared to be staring into space, focussing on a point somewhere several miles beyond the room. The silence in the room weighed heavily.

  This time it was the policeman who broke the spell. ‘Come on, Nelson. Let’s not fall out over this. I know how you feel about Stacey and I understand you want to do something but leave it to us. We know how to do this. Trust me.’

  The other man turned his head slowly, his vision gradually drifting back to focus on Glasgow. He smiled sadly. ‘Trust you? I thought I could. I thought you were my friend. Seems I was mistaken though, don’t it?’

  Glasgow shook his head. ‘It doesn’t have to be like that. You’ve got your reasons for what you want to do. If I could, I’d help you. But not this time.’

  Cole clenched and unclenched his fists slowly. ‘I never really wanted to do this,’ he said in an undertone.

  ‘Do what?’

  He smiled sadly at Glasgow.
‘You know I’ve got some interestin’ video footage of you?’

  The answering smile was cold. ‘Have you really? You astonish me,’ said the detective with no hint of surprise. He smoothed one trouser leg with an elegant gesture and leant back in his chair. ‘I often wondered whether or not you’d put something like that in the bank. I guess I always hoped you wouldn’t. Just goes to show doesn’t it. I mean: if you really were my friend you’d have trusted me. Then you wouldn’t have felt the need to do anything like that.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ said Cole. ‘Slippery, twisty words from a slippery, twisty little bastard. Well, if you’d really been my friend you’d never have found out would you? Anyway, I bet you’ve got a file on me.’

  ‘Of course I have.’

  ‘You want to see the film I’ve got? Just before you make any final decisions?’

  ‘Oh, there’s no need.’

  ‘No?’

  ‘No.’ Glasgow shook his head. ‘You’re not going to blackmail me, Nelson. I don’t really care what you’ve got on me. Whatever you’ve got, I can come up with worse on you.’

  ‘Really?’ said Cole. ‘There’s one thing you’re forgettin’ though.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Well, I’m an innocent man. I’ve not got any convictions, my friend. Not one. Also, I can get away with doin’ things you can’t. But you, you’ve been in trouble before haven’t you. Been suspended at least once. Had a few complaints made against you. How’s it goin’ to look in a court of law? Innocent businessman versus dodgy copper: I know which one most juries would back.’ He stabbed a finger at Glasgow. ‘If I ever see you in court, my friend, I’ll make sure your reputation is gone for good. No force will ever employ you again.’

  Glasgow smiled. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Nelson. I know I don’t always do things by the book but I’m good at my job.’ He shrugged. ‘You can try sending your videos to my bosses. I doubt there’s anything in there that would surprise them. They know I don’t play by the rules but the thing is: I get information others can’t get. They don’t want to know the details but they know the way it works. Sometimes you need to get down into the sewer to find the dirt. And that’s what I do, I find the dirt.’

  Cole stood up. There was a tense silence as he stared at Glasgow. But then he turned away and pointed to the door, his fury faded and replaced with a dull loathing. ‘Just get out of here, copper. Piss off, will you.’

  41. If I Was Your Girlfriend

  Friday, 12.54pm:

  Harper smiled as he let himself into the building. Rebecca had dropped him off nearly an hour earlier, before driving off to see Paul Cash. She wanted to find out more about what her new job as the artist’s personal assistant involved. As she was getting ready to go, she asked Harper if he wanted to come along but he declined. Cash probably would not mind but it did not really seem appropriate. Besides, Harper had plenty on his mind to keep himself occupied.

  It had been a strange morning for him but one that left a warm glow. Most obviously, there was the revelation his father was still alive. That alone was a staggering concept with which to come to terms; and involved some mixed feelings. But even more immediate and more important was Rebecca herself.

  When she left him on the corner it was with a quick peck on the cheek. The gesture would have seemed inconsequential to a stranger but to Harper was on a par with winning an Olympic medal and finding the Holy Grail rolled into one. The pleasure it gave him almost made the mental mayhem and physical pain that consumed his life over the past week seem insignificant.

  Having Rebecca back, or at least within reach, transformed everything. It felt like a huge weight removed from his shoulders. And some of the darkness swept from his mind. There had been times during the past few days — particularly in those bleaker moments when he stopped to dwell on his situation — when the idea of winning Rebecca back seemed impossible. And even when trying to be positive, he never expected to get this far so quickly.

  But, somehow, he had.

  Now he felt like he was mainlining euphoria. Everything was golden with promise. The faint misgivings that hovered in the back of his mind at Haworth Manor the previous morning had been swept away, obliterated by a rush of relief and elation. His real life and everything he had lost seemed once more attainable.

  Harper had initially planned on going straight back to his flat after Rebecca said goodbye. She dropped him at the end of the street to avoid getting caught up in the traffic around the railway station. But, as he drew closer, the idea of going — on his own — up to those rooms that were both his home and not his home seemed an impossible comedown. He needed to move, to see people and savour the enormity of his blessing.

  Instead of continuing towards the flat, he turned and went the other way, towards the city centre. Unaware of his limp, ignorant of his body’s protesting muscles, Harper wandered the streets in a daze. Finally managing to calm the happy excitement of his heart, he strolled into a cafe, treating himself to a large mocha and a Danish pastry. As he sat in the window, the idiot’s grin plastered across his face made several passers-by smile in response. It also ensured no one else came and took a seat next to him.

  Eventually though, some of the rush of excitement subsided and his mind returned to something closer to logical thought. He left a large tip as he paid for his coffee and ambled back to the place where, for the time at least, he had to accept as being where he lived.

  As he made his way up the stairs, he found himself looking about the place with what was almost fondness. It was not as bad as it had seemed when he first found himself forced to return here. The building was battered around the edges but not really seedy, more well-worn. It had character too: from the scuffed parquet of the entrance hall to the soaring ceilings and ornate ceiling roses. A shaft of pale light coming from a skylight poured a sheen of honey across the woodwork of the banisters and a hint of citrus lingered in the air: probably a toilet freshener but more appealing than the dank odour of some houses of multiple occupancy.

  Part way up, he paused. He grabbed the banister rail for support as the fog swarmed across his vision. His limbs went weak and he closed his blurring eyes, waiting for it to pass. He had experienced similar attacks a number of times over the last few days. Each came with little warning: a darkness that gathered in the corner of his vision before surging out. The first few times, the fog only appeared at the periphery of his vision. Now, each attack almost robbed him of his sight. The accompanying disorientation also brought on a bout of nausea.

  What triggered the episodes remained a mystery. Luckily, they never seemed to last long and no one else had yet noticed them strike. Harper was unsure whether the incidents were linked to his accident or a symptom of some other problem but of one thing he was sure: he had no desire to tell a doctor and find himself hospitalised while they ran endless, inconclusive tests.

  The moment passed and Harper shook his head. He took a few seconds to regain his bearings before continuing up. Once the attack was over, he felt fine again and the morning’s good mood returned with full force.

  Reaching the second floor, Harper was about to go into his own flat when he heard music from the rooms next to his. It sounded like some kind of Irish folk tune. On a whim, Harper gave a quick rap on the door, drawn by the music as much as by any thought of what he was doing.

  ‘Hold on.’

  Only when Harper heard the response did it occur to him that knocking on an ex-girlfriend’s door was not his best idea of the day. Particularly an ex-girlfriend of whom he had absolutely no memory. By that point, however, it was too late to reconsider or run and hide. He bit his lip as the door opened.

  She looked at him with surprise, the smile dying on her face. She frowned then pursed her lips. ‘So?’

  Harper gave a tentative smile. ‘Kate… I’m sorry. But I heard the music and… well, I don’t know… we didn’t get off to a very good start the other day.’

  ‘Start?’ She blinked and
gave him a cold stare. ‘That’s a strange idea, Danny. I thought we’d gone beyond “start”. I was under the impression we’d reached the finish. Least, that’s the way you put it the last time. You were quite adamant it was the last time. Although it wasn’t the first time you’d said that either.’

  Harper looked at his feet. ‘Yeah… I know. But…’ He paused. ‘It wasn’t the first time?’

  ‘Yes. The third, I think. Or was it the fourth?’ She frowned when she saw his expression and gave him a quizzical stare. ‘Are you okay?’

  Harper hesitated, considering. ‘Yes and no. It’s hard to explain.’

  ‘Yes and no?’ She leant closer, peering into his eyes. ‘Are you on something?’

  ‘No,’ he said with a shrug, not quite able to come down from his high. ‘Not unless you include life.’

  ‘Oh God.’ She curled a lip. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve gone and got religion. You’re not going to start going hallelujah on me are you? Please tell me that’s not a tambourine in your pocket?’

  Harper grinned nervously. ‘No, nothing like that.’ He shrugged, realising he was digging himself ever deeper into a morass of complications but unsure how to withdraw. ‘I don’t know. Like I said, I just heard the music. I… er… realise things between us haven’t been straightforward and well…’

  ‘What?’ She gave him a withering stare. ‘You haven’t had a shag for a few days and thought you’d try me? Or was it just the friendly cup of tea you were after?’

  Harper laughed despite himself. Her expression flickered from steely contempt to bright anger but then veered away. A slight smile curled the ends of her mouth as she shook her head in despair. ‘What are you like? Blokes. You’re pathetic.’