Retribution

by Jay Nadal

  “And where are they now?” Scott asked, making his way towards the old part of the building.

  “The scent seems to double back on itself, leaving the forest about a hundred and fifty yards further down, back in the direction of the school.” The evidence suggested that the assailant was still in close proximity having attempted to throw them off his trail by heading into the forest.

  Scott turned the corner and saw Abby standing there. Time seemed to momentarily freeze, the commotion around them fell away like in an old-fashioned black-and-white silent movie. Streaks of salty tears zigzagged down her pale cheeks. Her arms hung loosely by her sides, the top part of her light grey trousers stained dark crimson. Scott’s eyes moved to her arms, the sleeves of her cream blouse heavily stained with blood.

  Abby slowly took a few steps towards Scott, her eyes bright red and heavy with tears. She didn’t need to say anything; she couldn’t say anything. The words wouldn’t come. She tried to tell Scott but her mouth stayed frozen in shock.

  “Abby?” Scott asked, knowing in his gut the news wasn’t good.

  Abby shook her head and cried. “We lost her. Sian passed away on the way to the hospital. They tried to save her, but she’d suffered too much blood loss…”

  Scott pulled Abby in close to him as she sobbed heavily into his chest. His mind raced, thoughts tumbling over one another. Sian’s dead…I shouldn’t have let her go in alone…Was this my fault?…Shit…What the fuck has just happened? A cold chill raced through his body. A mixture of shock, fear and sadness tossed his stomach over as a thin veil of sweat glistened on his forehead. Waves of nausea bounced around inside him as he fought to keep the bile down.

  A direct order brought Scott back to the station immediately whilst other officers contained the scene, searching for the assailant. Forensics had the grisly task of combing the crime scene for evidence, and capturing a visual catalogue of the last few moments of Sian’s life.

  He’d left Abby with paramedics who were treating her for mild shock. Abby had witnessed scenes like this before, but nothing really prepared them for when it happened to one of their own.

  Officers watched in silence as Scott made his way through the station towards DCI Harvey’s office. A sombre mood cast a pall over the scene. Officers spoke in hushed tones, huddled in corners, and digested the information that trickled out in dribs and drabs. None of the usual station banter, mickey-taking or shouts echoed across the office. The subdued silence only amplified the rings from desk phones and mobiles that seemed to punctuate the air with piercing clarity.

  The odd pat on his arm in sympathy was matched in equal measures with cold glances. He wasn’t sure if they were stares of disbelief, shock or anger. Had he gone too far this time? Had his reckless actions led to an officer’s death? Was the label of cavalier fitting? His mind swirled. The heat built under his collar as he wearily made his way up the stairs before turning into DCI Harvey’s office.

  DCI Jane Harvey sat at her desk, her fingers interlocked and resting on the metal surface. The presence of Detective Superintendent John Meadows seated in one of the two chairs opposite her only added to the tension in the room. The intimidating man appeared to be fighting for composure. The DCI shot nervous glances between Meadows and Scott.

  “Scott, take a seat,” she said, nodding in the direction of the only spare chair in the room. “Firstly, I’m sorry about Sian. We’re all devastated at the loss of such a young, promising officer.”

  Scott nodded slightly, knowing the sentiment was genuine, but a prelude to much worse.

  “We’ll need a full report from you about what’s happened, and of course there will be an internal investigation to assess whether procedures were followed correctly. We need to ascertain if there was an error in any part of the chain of command that could have prevented her death.”

  “Basically, you’re saying that you’re trying to find out if I fucked up?” Scott said flippantly, instantly regretting his choice of words. “I’m sorry, Ma’am, Sir. I didn’t mean that and I apologise for speaking out of turn,” Scott added, frantically trying to stem the tirade of abuse he was about to get from Meadows whose face had turned an unhealthy shade of red.

  “Let me remind you Detective Inspector Baker, DC Mason was a member of your team and a member of Sussex constabulary. We’ve lost a young officer. I’ve already had several calls from the chief constable, and I’m due to give him a further update in an hour before he holds a press conference. You’re more than welcome to take the call for me should you wish,” he said, goading Scott. “This is a sad day for Sussex Police, and I don’t give a fuck how you feel. All I’m interested in is finding out exactly what happened and whether it could have been avoided. The chief constable has the unenviable task of contacting DC Mason’s parents to inform them that their twenty-seven-year-old daughter has been killed in the line of duty.”

  Meadows rose from his chair shooting Scott with a tight-lipped grimace before turning to DCI Harvey and barking, “Sort it.”

  An uneasy silence settled in the room after Meadows stormed out.

  “Scott, off the record, could this have been avoided?”

  Scott thought hard for a moment, “I don’t think so, Ma’am. I’d instructed Sian to follow a line of enquiry at the school. At no point did I think her life would be in danger. Had I thought that, then I certainly wouldn’t have sent her alone. You have to believe me, Ma’am. Abby and I were to meet her, so she wouldn’t have been alone. Unfortunately, we got stuck in traffic, so we were late getting there.”

  The DCI sighed heavily. She knew her hands were tied. She’d always known that Scott was a hard-working, dedicated officer and an excellent team leader. She implicitly trusted him and his past results were a testament to his intelligence, tenacity and sense of justice. However, the spotlight was firmly fixed on Scott, and indirectly on her. She fixed her gaze on Scott, uncomfortable with what she had to say next.

  “Scott, I have no choice but to temporarily suspend you whilst a full investigation is conducted into the death of DC Sian Mason. You’ll be relieved of your duties immediately and we’ll appoint another officer to take over from you.”

  Scott sat in stunned disbelief. His whole world had just been flipped over on its axis. The investigation was standard procedure, but the suspension was harder to stomach.

  “Ma’am, I appreciate you have to do this, and it’s standard operating procedure, but I’ve done nothing wrong. I’m getting closer to wrapping up this case. I’ve got motive, and I’ve now got a name, the potential suspect.”

  “Scott, you know the rules. Any information you’ve got regarding this case can be passed on to the next SIO. Whoever’s assigned as the senior investigating officer can review your information and evidence and decide whether it needs a follow-up.”

  Desperation crawled from his gut up his throat, threatening to choke him. He’d spent the last eight days working tirelessly with his team to get a result. Chancing his luck, he asked, “Ma’am, just give me until the end of the shift. Let me get a result. Let me do this for Sian, please?”

  DCI Harvey shook her head vigorously. “Scott you know I can’t do this! Both of our careers depend on this.”

  “Ma’am, don’t you think I know that?” Scott asked, nodding to the corner of the room, where a grey-coloured box sat on the floor half-filled with a few files, personal photographs and certificates. “Is that because of me?”

  DCI Jane Harvey gazed at the box for a few seconds. “No. It’s been a long time coming. They’ve been on at me for months to take retirement, to step down. I’m not stupid. I know I’m old school, and a bit set in my ways. I’m hardly the poster girl for modern-day policing, am I?” Harvey paused for a moment, and swallowed hard. “So I’m retiring with immediate effect. Someone more their type will take over the reins. Someone whose thinking and leadership is more in line with what they expect.”

  “They’re kicking you out?” Scott asked.

  “Well, I woul
dn’t exactly put it in those terms. It’s more like a gentle shove to the edge of the cliff, with a ball of concrete attached to my ankles,” she said sarcastically.

  “Then give me just a few more hours to wrap this case. I’ve got a name and I’ve got a hunch. Just cover for me a few more hours, that’s all. Let’s both walk out of here with our heads held high, and one last good result under our belts. Please?”

  DCI Harvey shook her head slowly. She knew the right thing to do would be to stick to the rules, but she’d never been one for rules. Perhaps that had been the reason for her downfall and subsequent managed exit from the force. She glanced at the ceiling, her internal dialogue racing around her mind. She blew out a deep whistle of air.

  “Shit, I’m going to regret this. You’ve got a few more hours. Prove them wrong, Scott. And do this for Sian.”

  With his team dwindling by the minute, Raj was the only one holding the fort as Scott burst through the doors of the CID room. Raj cast a sad and lonely figure as he sat there reeling from the news and staring at a blank computer screen.

  “Raj, how are you holding up?” Scott asked, placing a hand on Raj’s shoulder.

  Raj jolted. “Sorry, Guv I didn’t even know you were there. Must have been away with the fairies.”

  “I know. Listen, I’m only here for a few more hours, and then I’m on suspension pending a full investigation. So I need you to hold the fort with Mike until Abby’s back tomorrow.”

  Raj’s eyes widened and his mouth opened. “Sorry to hear that, Guv. If there’s anything I can do to help, you know you can just ask.”

  “I know, and I appreciate it. But I’m in enough trouble as it is. The last thing I need is you getting into trouble, too. Actually come to think of it, there is something you can do for me. Have a look through the Edmunston-Hunt School website and look at the gallery section. See if you can find class photographs or year photographs going back about twenty to twenty-two years.”

  “No probs, what am I looking for?”

  “I’m looking for a name. Peter Jennings. He was fifteen when he drowned at the school. If you find it, ping it through to me in the office.”

  Scott thumped down in his chair, his body aching. He couldn’t really account for the last few hours. When he closed his eyes, today just appeared like a blur. His tight shoulders pinched his neck muscles and his legs felt leaden. He glanced around his office, hoping that this wasn’t the last time he’d be sitting in his chair. He grabbed his phone and dialled Cara’s number. In all the melee of today and the past few days he’d barely had the opportunity or inclination to call her. Feeling a little sheepish, he waited for her to answer.

  “Scott, you okay, babes? Just heard about Sian. I’m so, so sorry,” she said, her voice shaky with emotion.

  Scott felt numb. He’d been running on adrenaline for the past few hours, and was now coming back down with an almighty bang.

  “I’ve had better days. Think we’re all still in shock about Sian. And…I’ve been suspended pending an investigation.”

  “Well, just remember it’s not personal. They have to follow procedure. Listen, how about you come over afterwards? We can talk; we need to talk. I’ve missed you. I know you’re busy but I can’t stand the thought of you going through this alone.”

  Scott agreed. “I’ve missed you too, and I’m sorry for everything. I’ll see you later.”

  He hung up not entirely sure exactly what would happen over the next few hours, but a hunch started to crystallise into a plan. The screen on his computer bleeped to signal an incoming email from Raj.

  Good man! Raj had managed to take a screenshot of an old black-and-white photograph that showed two lines of students posing for a house photograph. The second row stood on an elevated platform. Beneath the photograph were the names of all the boys in a list, row by row. Scott scanned the names and found Peter Jennings. He looked just as Collier had described: thin, slight-framed, pale skin, red hair and freckles.

  If anything, Scott noticed that Peter Jennings had similar characteristics to Matthew Edrington. Scott continued staring at the list of names as they appeared in the photo. Beside Peter’s name was Timothy Marchant’s. In fact, on closer inspection as he enlarged the photo, they were standing very close to each other, their shoulders overlapping more so than with any other pupils in photograph. Timothy Marchant was slightly chubbier, had a round face, dark hair and a large forehead with small eyes. But a charming, large radiant smile lit his face that stood out amongst the crowd.

  The printer in the corner of his office whirred into action as the blown-up image rolled off. His next stop would have been the geeks in the high-tech unit, but they’d know about his suspension. Heading over to Sussex HQ in Lewes would be risky, too. He only had one option left…Sussex University would have to do.

  44

  Simon Barrett waited by the visitors’ car park as Scott pulled up. “Inspector Baker, good to see you again. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you again so soon, but it’s a welcome surprise,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Yes, sorry for calling you out of the blue and so late in the afternoon, but my investigation is moving quickly, and the next few hours are critical.”

  “I’m sure, Inspector. I gathered that from the urgency in your tone when you called me.”

  “As I said on the phone, I need an image adjusted. We do have the capability to do it in-house, but I couldn’t get it turned around in less than twenty-four hours, and I really need it now.”

  They walked through the corridors of the university towards the Centre for Photography and Visual Culture. “I’ve spoken to one of the lecturers there and he’s assured me that they have specialist facilities and multiple edit suites with Adobe Premiere Pro alongside a Pro-tools suite. They’ll have the Photoshop thingy you asked for,” Simon said, cycling his hand as he tried to convey the terminology that had been explained to him by his colleague.

  As they swung through some frosted glass doors, the fabric of faculty building reflected its use. Crisp clean lines and modern whitewashed brick walls created a fresh and exciting atmosphere. Small clusters of prints set out in symmetrical patterns dotted the walls at random intervals, like they would in a modern art gallery in London. Scott’s shoes squeaked on the highly polished, dark red tile floors that offered a contrast to the lightness of the walls.

  They turned into a small studio situated off the main corridor. The high-tech atmosphere surprised Scott. Several large LCD screens sat on stands above a long desk full of laptops, boxes that had a bewildering display of dials, switches and buttons. It looked like something from NASA launch control.

  A middle-aged man, thin, with lanky, dark hair and thick, black box-framed glasses swivelled around in his chair, but didn’t bother to get up. He seemed friendly enough as he gave Scott a nod whilst Simon did the introductions.

  “Craig, this is Detective Inspector Baker from Brighton CID. He needs our…well, your help on a rather urgent matter. Can I leave him in your capable hands?”

  After thanking Simon, Craig offered Scott the seat next to him. “Simon said you needed some Photoshopping?”

  “That’s correct,” Scott replied, handing over the blown-up image. “I need to age this image if possible,” Scott requested.

  “I would have thought you’d have access to more sophisticated age progression software than our Photoshop?”

  “We do but the turnaround is a bit slow with bureaucracy, paperwork, cost centres and all that stuff. You know how it is…” Scott said, trying to sound convincing. “It’s that boy there that I want aged.” He pointed with a tip of a pen.

  “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “Does this type of thing take long?”

  “Depends on how much detail you need, the degree of accuracy and of course the quality of the original,” Craig said, pushing his glasses onto his forehead so he could get a closer look at the quality of the image. “It’s not great I’m afraid. It’s an old picture. It’s
grainy, and more pixelated because it’s been blown up.”

  Scott nodded. “Anything is better than nothing to be honest.”

  Craig seemed to have everything within arm’s reach, and Scott wondered if it had been set up deliberately like this for convenience and laziness. He watched as Craig lifted the lid on a scanner next to him, placed the photo face down on the glass, closed the lid and pressed the black start button all in one deft, slick movement.

  The image started to appear on a screen behind them. He smiled slightly as yet again Craig swivelled around another forty-five degrees to face the screen. Craig had certainly set up his studio in a way that reduced his physical exertions to the barest minimum.

  Scott watched in fascination as Craig used a piece of software to outline the boy in question and then remove him from the picture, leaving a square hole. The sound of rapid mouse clicks made it hard for Scott to follow exactly what was being done, and he had to admit that Craig had lost him.

  “I’m just cutting out the image, so we can work on just that. I’ll save it first before opening it up in Photoshop.”

  Craig flicked through a few screens before the image reappeared in Adobe Photoshop surrounded by rows of editing features and tools. “Do you know much about Photoshop?”

  “I’ve heard of it. I think I’ve even got it on my laptop at home, but I’ve never used it. I’m already lost just watching what you’ve done so far,” replied Scott.

  Craig let out small laugh. “Yeah, it has that effect on people. I’m going to blow up the image, which will make it a bit grainy to begin with, but that will get sorted as I work on it. Then I’ll refine the edges as we go. How does that sound?”

  Scott nodded in agreement.

  “Age?”

  “Sorry?”

  “What age do you want him to be?” Craig clarified.

  “Hmm, good question. Can we try later thirties?”

  “Thirty-seven, thirty-eight?”