Deadly Harm

by Owen Mullen

  Mackenzie smiled. ‘Come in. Please come in, Detective.’

  ‘Andrew.’

  ‘Andrew, of course.’

  In the lounge, Mackenzie said, ‘I’ve organised coffee for us, is that all right?’

  ‘Coffee’s fine.’

  ‘Hope you like Jaffa Cakes, all we’ve got I’m afraid. With a house full of women, anything sweet just goes. Last week somebody handed in a tin of Quality Street. It lasted an hour.’

  Small talk had never been his forte, but he tried. ‘Saw you on the news last night – very impressive if I may say so. Made me think you might be able to help with something.’

  Not entirely the truth. Geddes knew all about the refuge and the great work Mackenzie had done. She was flattered. ‘If I can. First tell me, how are you? I’ll never be able to repay you for what you did for me.’

  Geddes struggled with the compliment and stared at the carpet. ‘I was…’

  ‘Just doing your job. Is that what you were going to say? Then thank God for that.’

  ‘You’re giving me too much credit. It was Gavin. How is he? Still playing football?’

  Mackenzie laughed. ‘No. His wife persuaded him he was in danger of breaking more than his leg. He gave it up.’

  ‘Wise man. When you try to kick a young guy who’s waltzed round you like you weren’t there and can’t get close enough to him to even do that, it’s time to hang up your boots.’ He grinned. ‘Believe me. I’m speaking from experience.’

  ‘Apart from that, he’s fine. Him and Monica have two children now. Between them and the office, he’s kept busy.’

  ‘Can imagine. Tell him I said hello.’

  ‘Will do.’

  The flurry of conversation came to an end. Mackenzie noticed he’d said almost nothing about himself. She cut through the silence. ‘So what is it you think I can help with?’

  The detective coughed into his hand. ‘Ordinarily, I wouldn’t be involved with something like this.’

  ‘Something like what?’

  ‘A kid’s got herself into a mess.’

  ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Kirsty McBride.’

  ‘What kind of mess?’

  ‘An abusive relationship she can’t get out of.’

  ‘With her husband?’

  ‘Her partner. The bastard’s – sorry – he’s hit her umpteen times and threatened to hurt the baby.’

  ‘There’s a baby?’

  ‘Unfortunately, yes. A little girl.’

  ‘Can’t you arrest him?’

  ‘We already have, that’s how I got involved in the case. He made the mistake of assaulting a constable following up a complaint from a neighbour about a domestic disturbance. Long list of offences. All the usual stuff.’

  ‘Where is he now?’

  ‘In Barlinnie. But he’ll be out again in a few days, and she’s scared.’

  ‘Sounds like a job for Social Services.’

  Geddes traced the rim of the saucer with his finger. ‘Normally, that’s exactly how it would go.’

  Mackenzie sipped her coffee and waited for him to get to the point.

  ‘Cuts to local authority budgets mean Social Services have more cases than they can deal with. We don’t hear about the successful interventions, only the ones that slip through the cracks onto the front page of the Daily Record. Those are the ones Kirsty believes and won’t be talked into relying on them to protect her and her baby.’

  What the detective was saying was true. Overworked and under-resourced, social workers could only do so much; the service was stretched to breaking point.

  ‘Where do I come in?’

  Asking for a favour – putting it into words – made Geddes feel awkward. ‘It’s important to understand this is my idea. Nobody’s pushing for it except me, certainly not Kirsty. I’m going out on a limb for this girl. She’s young. So far, she hasn’t had much of a break. I wondered if you could find a place for her here.’

  His bloodshot eyes bored into Mackenzie and she realised she was looking at a good man.

  ‘When would she need it?’

  ‘Right away. Malkie Boyle – that’s the boyfriend – is due for release next week.’

  Mackenzie shook her head knowing what she had to tell him wasn’t what he wanted to hear. ‘Sorry Andrew, we’re full. Every bed’s taken.’

  The policeman couldn’t hide his disappointment. ‘That’s what I thought you’d say. It was worth a try.’

  Mackenzie hated to let him down – with all he’d done for her, it felt wrong to not be more helpful; he deserved better. ‘I could speak to her if you’d like. Maybe convince her to let the system step in and take care of both of them.’

  Geddes nodded. ‘That would be great. Kirsty’s parents died when she was young. For years she was shunted between relatives who didn’t want her until, finally, she was taken into care. From what little she’s told me, not a time she’d be in a hurry to repeat. Been on the streets since she was sixteen. The only thing she’s done that comes close to a real job was selling The Big Issue. Finally, her luck – if you could call it luck – ran out and she got pregnant. Predictable stuff. Got nobody to turn to. Nobody to give her advice. This guy she’s hooked up with is a twenty-four-carat loser. Never worked a day in his life. Sells dope when he can be arsed to get out of bed. She told one of our officers he beats her up regularly.’

  ‘Yet she won’t charge him.’

  ‘Got it in one.’

  ‘Poor kid. Some people never have a chance, do they? Why isn’t a restraining order in place?’

  Geddes laughed bitterly. ‘She won’t make a statement. Afraid it wouldn’t stop him coming after her, and she could be right. Not easy if you’re used to being let down by the system to suddenly start trusting it, maybe with your child’s life.’

  Mackenzie shook her head. ‘Unbelievable how often that happens.’

  ‘Absolutely. Seen the movie. Know how it ends. While he’s behind bars, she’s fine. The minute they let him out, Kirsty and her baby are in danger.’

  ‘When could I speak to her?’

  ‘Soon as possible. Tomorrow?’

  ‘Okay.’

  Geddes hadn’t got what he’d come for but seemed satisfied. ‘Can’t tell you how much I admire what you’ve done. The women who manage to get here are fortunate.’

  ‘Wasn’t a big decision. I ended up with more money than I could spend and was looking for somewhere to stay. It would’ve been easy to buy a flat in the West End, or travel. None of that appealed to me. One day I drove past here and saw it was for sale. Immediately, I knew what I wanted to do.’ She corrected herself. ‘Not wanted, needed to do. It just felt right.’

  ‘Divine inspiration.’

  ‘Yes, I think it was.’

  At the door, Geddes said, ‘It would be better to meet her somewhere else.’

  He didn’t want Kirsty McBride to see the refuge and assume there was a place for her. There wasn’t. Through her eyes it would look like she’d missed out yet again.

  ‘I’ll go with whatever you think is best. Call and let me know.’

  Geddes rested his arms on the steering wheel: Mackenzie hadn’t aged a day, remarkable in itself. Her life could have so easily been ruined. Instead, she’d fought back and created something worthwhile. The world was a frightening place. Day after day, dealing with the terrible things people did to each other was hard to take. He’d known good men quit who couldn’t handle the stress. Every police officer had to be able to put distance between himself and the job. Mostly, he succeeded. A few beers at the end of his shift – and, if he was telling the whole truth, a couple or three stiff whiskies when he got home – helped keep the worst of it at bay. Now and again a case got to him. Mackenzie Darroch’s abduction was one of them. To describe what she’d gone through as an ordeal was woefully inadequate. From the little he’d seen, she’d recovered. He guessed the refuge was her way of giving back. Impossible not to admire.

  Andrew Geddes’s re
ason for coming here was real. But it wasn’t his only reason. The last time he’d seen her was at the enquiry into her husband’s death, sitting beside her brother a few seats from the back, wearing a dark-grey jacket and skirt, and a mustard blouse.

  She hadn’t looked at Geddes, hadn’t looked at anybody, staring ahead until the proceedings were over. Outside, he’d scanned the small crowd milling on the pavement, hoping to get a word with her brother. Gavin broke away from the people he was talking to and shook his hand.

  ‘Our whole family owes you a debit of gratitude, Andrew.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  ‘You opened my eyes when you took on the case.’

  Geddes summed it up for both of them. ‘We saved her, that’s all that matters. Where is she?’

  The reply deflated the detective. ‘Gone, I’m afraid. Couldn’t get away fast enough. Had to practically drag her here. Completely understandable in the circumstances.’

  And that had been that.

  Since then, DS had become DI and, like always, Andrew Geddes had thrown himself into his work. The promotion brought a new set of challenges; there wasn’t time to dwell on his motive for wanting to speak to Mackenzie, or why he’d been so anxious to meet her again.

  In the lounge it was obvious: she’d been a beautiful woman then and she was a beautiful woman now. Mystery solved. He turned the key in the ignition and headed back to Glasgow.

  7

  Mackenzie wouldn’t have chosen the hotel near Euro Central for the meeting – too formal, daunting for somebody in Kirsty’s position. This morning the busy car park reinforced Mackenzie’s view of it as an overnight stop for businessmen. The interior matched the marketing vision: dark and understated décor; efficiently impersonal staff and prices no-one bothered looking at because they weren’t spending their own money.

  Mackenzie had intended to arrive first and she had – according to the clock above the fireplace, it was ten minutes to eleven. No sign of Andrew Geddes or Kirsty McBride. Good. Mackenzie wanted a moment alone to think about what to say. Handing out advice was something she tried to avoid. The refuge was full of women with important decisions to make about their lives. Over time she’d learned to give them the space to do that – they were the ones who had to live with the consequences. And she’d discovered that, in the end, most people did what they wanted to do.

  At the door of the refuge, Geddes had said, ‘Once I introduce you, I’ll get out of the picture. You can take it from there.’

  He’d thanked her and shook her hand, clearly uncomfortable. She put it down to having the favour he’d asked refused, though “refused” was too strong – if there had been a spare place, the girl would’ve been welcome to it.

  Mackenzie ordered coffee from a waiter with short red hair and freckles and took stock of her surroundings. Behind the front desk a pretty receptionist, absorbed in her work, checked a PC screen, writing what she’d found on a piece of paper. In the far corner, four grey suits huddled over papers spread on a table, listening to an animated explanation about what was in front of them. A handsome man in a herringbone coat came through the door and headed towards the rooms, whispering into his mobile. Mackenzie followed his progress, surprised to feel a flicker of interest. Since her marriage ended there had been no-one. Unless some very special guy turned up, it would stay that way. She wasn’t against men, but her days of kissing frogs were over.

  At a minute past eleven the glass doors slid apart and the DI appeared with a girl pushing a pram, her long fair hair scraped back in a ponytail. Beside the detective she seemed tiny, barely more than a child herself. Geddes smiled when he saw Mackenzie and steered them over.

  Kirsty didn’t look at her or say hello. ‘Where’s the toilet?’

  Mackenzie pointed to a sign on the wall. ‘Turn right at the end of the corridor.’

  Behind her back, Geddes made a face. When she left, he said, ‘Sorry if we’ve kept you waiting. The last hour hasn’t been short on drama.’

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  The policeman grimaced. ‘She didn’t want to come. Convinced herself they can make a go of it.’

  ‘Really? What’s happened to make her change her mind?’

  Geddes smiled. ‘Been here before, haven’t you?’

  ‘Once or twice.’

  ‘Yeah, he phoned and apologised–’

  ‘Apologised?’

  ‘I know. Can you fucking… sorry… can you believe it? She can’t have forgotten how he treats her. Not possible.’

  ‘You’re not allowing for how young she is.’ Mackenzie touched the pram. ‘Imagine you were eighteen knowing this wee bundle’s depending on you. You’d be scared witless. I certainly would be.’

  Geddes conceded. ‘You’re right. Of course, you’re right. It’s just I feel so damned useless. Apart from her friend Paula, I’m the nearest she’s got and I’m getting nowhere with her.’

  ‘Kirsty’s clinging to what she knows.’

  ‘Even if he beats her up?’

  Mackenzie shook her head. ‘It doesn’t work like that, Andrew. When you’re as frightened as she must be, change is too hard. So you lie to yourself, tell yourself it wasn’t that bad. From what you said, Kirsty hasn’t come across anyone in authority she can trust. I don’t blame her for being more afraid of them than she is of him.’

  Geddes pinched the corners of his eyes. ‘Social Services is a non-starter. Unless you can persuade her, we can say bye-bye to that option.’

  ‘When is this–’

  ‘Malkie Boyle.’

  ‘When’s he due out?’

  ‘Next Friday. Eight days from now. I spoke to Social Services on Monday. They know the history and the danger and are ready to go into action. But Kirsty needs to co-operate. Needs to agree. And, as of this morning, she’s more against the idea than ever.’

  The policeman’s frustration poured out. ‘We were getting somewhere, or at least I thought we were, before this fuck–’ Geddes coloured. ‘Sorry. Before this bastard – sorry again – called her.’

  Mackenzie rescued him. ‘That’s okay. Been known to say the odd “fuck” myself.’

  The DI laughed. ‘That should make conversation easier. Anyway, as I said, he’s made all sorts of promises. Clean slate. Fresh start. “Things will be different.” All that bollocks.’

  ‘She doesn’t believe it. But she wants to. Probably didn’t sleep last night. Lying awake telling herself it can work out with him, even when she knows it won’t.’

  ‘Then there’s the baby to consider.’

  ‘His baby.’

  ‘Exactly. Wherever she turns, she’s under pressure. Poor kid’s paralysed with fear.’ Geddes nodded over Mackenzie’s shoulder. ‘She’s coming back. I’ll make myself scarce.’

  ‘Stay if you want to stay.’

  ‘No thanks. You’ll do better without me. I’ll sit over there out of the way. Good luck. You’ll need it.’

  Kirsty McBride had the face of an angel, but the defiance behind the innocent hazel eyes and in the upturned chin was unmistakeable. She fell heavily onto the couch, took a lighter and a packet of cigarettes from her jacket pocket and put them on the table. She knew smoking wasn’t allowed. In her immature way, she was threatening to break the rules. The girl wore jeans and a jacket over a T-shirt with I UNDERSTAND I JUST DON’T CARE printed on it. Her first words – a surly reference to Andrew Geddes – supported the statement.

  ‘All right, he’s got what he wanted, I’m here. Let’s get on with it.’

  Mackenzie held out her hand and introduced herself. Kirsty didn’t take it. ‘I know who you are, he told me. Never stops talking about you. Think he fancies you.’

  Mackenzie ignored the hostility and called a waiter. ‘Are you hungry?’

  Kirsty didn’t answer.

  ‘Is coffee okay or would you prefer something else?’

  No reply.

  She ordered. ‘Coffee and sandwiches, please. Roast beef.’

  Andrew Ged
des had been serious when he’d wished her luck.

  The moment to draw the red line was now, otherwise they were wasting their time. ‘First up, lose the attitude. DI Geddes is trying to help you and so am I. If that isn’t what you want, we’ll step back. Except it isn’t just about you now, is it?’ She nodded towards the pram. ‘She’s depending on her mum making a grown-up decision for both of you. What’s her name?’

  ‘Alison.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘Ten months.’

  ‘I hear Malkie called you from prison. What did he say?’

  Kirsty wouldn’t go there. ‘Just stuff.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Private stuff.’

  Mackenzie answered her own question. ‘Let me guess. He’s sorry. It’ll all be great this time.’ The girl turned her head away and Mackenzie hesitated; Kirsty McBride was damaged enough.

  ‘He loves you; did he tell you that?’

  This wasn’t how to win her trust. She softened her approach. ‘Kirsty, you aren’t stupid. You know what he’s like. Surely you haven’t forgotten what he did to you.’

  Her eyes flashed, defiance back as the words tumbled out in defence of the man who’d terrorised her. ‘Everybody deserves a second chance. Or is that only for people like you?’

  Mackenzie let the fire settle: they needed light, not heat. Forcing Kirsty to stand up for Malkie Boyle would drive her towards him. Mackenzie spoke quietly, no trace of confrontation in her voice. ‘Except, it wouldn’t be a second chance, would it? Or even a third or a fourth? Malkie isn’t going to change. He can’t. He is what he is.’

  Kirsty lifted the disposable lighter and turned it over in her hand. Mackenzie wasn’t sure she was listening.

  ‘But you can change. For you and your daughter.’

  ‘What if I don’t want to?’

  ‘Then fast-forward fifteen years. Picture the awful things Alison will have seen. She’ll be scarred and she’ll leave the first chance she gets, despising her mother for being weak.’