by Gwyn GB
Harrison managed to say, ‘Tanya, it’s me Harrison,’ just as she let out a scream at the sight of a ghostly white silhouette in the middle of the sitting room where earlier she’d had to endure the ghastly remains of John Platt.
The forensics lights burst into life and Harrison rushed forward towards the door so that she could see him better.
The realisation it wasn’t either of the Platts hit Tanya and as he reached her, she wobbled with shock.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Harrison said. He saw her wobble and instinctively put his arms around her to hold her up.
‘Oh my God, I thought, I thought…’ she garbled. She was breathless with the fright and would have just sat on the floor if it hadn’t been for the big arms that had wrapped around her holding her steady and upright.
‘What were you doing?’ she squeaked at him.
‘I was looking around the place, trying to get a sense of who Cameron is. I’m sorry, there’re no lights. No electricity. I didn’t expect anyone else to be here at this time.’
Harrison could feel her heart banging inside her chest. He was holding her tightly to him. Her cheek on his. He could smell her hair, her perfume, and moisturiser. He wanted to taste her too. He longed to kiss her.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said again, more gently and instinctively caressed the back of her head.
He felt her breathing relax and her heartbeat slow.
If he’d been able to see her face properly, he’d have seen the colour return to her cheeks.
Tanya didn’t know whether to cry or laugh hysterically at this point. Either would have done.
As the shock dissipated, embarrassment replaced it, and despite feeling like she could stay wrapped in his arms for the rest of the night, she pulled away.
‘Sorry, I’m not usually so…’
‘No, really, it was totally my fault. It would have given anybody a shock.’ He found himself still trying to hold on to her, his hands on the top of her arms. His turn to be embarrassed.
They broke away.
‘I came to check something,’ Tanya said. ‘The pathologist found a blade mark on John Platt’s rib bones. We think he was stabbed post-mortem, I was coming to look for any knives in the flat, see if they were the weapon used.’
Harrison was eager to help her forget his momentary overfamiliarity.
‘I’ll help you,’ he replied.
‘Oh no, I don’t want to disturb what you were doing.’
‘It’s okay. I was done.’
‘Have you worked him out?’ she asked.
‘I certainly have a much better sense of his state of mind. Now I need to read all the interview transcripts of those who knew him. Piece it all together.’
The pair of them talked work, both relieved to distract each other from their embarrassment and their own minds from the other thoughts which the encounter had created; that being held and holding onto each other had been a decidedly pleasurable experience. Harrison held the evidence bags open while Tanya searched through the kitchen drawers and took out three knives.
She’d just put the last one in when there was the sound of shouting and raised voices from outside. It was a woman’s voice.
‘Alex, Alex, are you here? Alex?’
Harrison Lane knew that voice. He recognised the emotion in it. It was Sally Fuller, downstairs in the street below.
‘That’s Alex’s mother,’ he said to Tanya. ‘What’s she doing here?’
He looked at Tanya’s face and again found himself momentarily pulled away as he stared into her eyes. This woman was not good for his concentration.
‘You’d better go to her, see if you can help,’ Tanya said. ‘I’ll lock up.’
‘Thanks,’ Harrison replied, sense returning. ‘And you’ll find some exercise books in Cameron’s bedroom. I found them in the mattress.’
With that, and before Tanya could ask him anything else, Harrison left the flat, pulled off his white forensics suit and headed downstairs where a small crowd had gathered watching the commotion. Sally was still shouting for her son while her husband, Edward, was holding on to her.
‘Sally, stop it. Just stop it,’ he was pleading with her. It was clear neither of them cared about the crowd of people watching. What Edward cared about was the acute distress he could see on his wife’s face, and he had no idea how to help her.
Harrison walked over and stood in front of them.
‘Mrs Fuller,’ he said.
Her glazed eyes registered his face.
‘This is where he lives, isn’t it? He could be here somewhere. Somebody must know something.’
Sally spun round to the crowd.
‘One of you must know where my son is. Where is he?’ she screamed at them. Some of them drew back and melted away, ashamed to be witnessing her grief and trauma. Others stood tight, transfixed by the spectacle. A couple of them were filming the proceedings, no doubt hoping to get a few likes and views on whichever social media channel they were about to post it to. No thought or empathy for the traumatised woman they were using. Harrison tried to block their view with his bulk, but Sally was erratic. It was hard to protect her.
‘She found out through Facebook,’ Edward said to Harrison by way of explanation. ‘She’s been trawling it all day.’
As they spoke, the blue lights of a police car came into view and the crowd instantly thinned.
‘We need to get her home,’ Harrison said to Edward.
‘Sally, what you’re doing will not help Alex. The more attention we draw to this, the more likely his abductor will go to ground.’
‘But I have to do something. I need to look for him. He has to know that we care. I care.’ She threw a look at her husband.
‘I said I needed to go back to work for the money,’ Edward explained to Harrison, ‘Truth is it’s also because I just don’t know what to do. I can’t get through to her.’
Harrison looked at Sally, the pain on her face was palpable. She was unrecognisable from the woman in the photograph she’d given him.
‘Sally, you need to be at home with your daughter and husband for when we bring Alex back. Please trust me, leave this to us. I’ll find him, Sally. I will.’
She looked into his eyes, and the fire in hers dimmed. She started to wilt. All her fight left her. As she physically collapsed into her husband’s arms, two police officers walked up to them from the patrol car.
‘What’s going on here then?’ one of them said to Harrison.
He pulled out his ID.
‘It’s okay, we’re done here.’
Harrison and Edward Fuller supported Sally back to their car and strapped her in. He watched as Edward drove off, both of their faces pale, strained, almost ghostlike in the streetlights. He hung his head as they disappeared around the corner. The weight of their pain on his shoulders.
He knew families grieving and coping with a trauma together weren’t always the best support for each other because they coped with it in different ways and at different speeds. He hoped that Sally and Edward’s relationship could survive the stress.
‘What’s this to do with Platt then?’ a woman in her forties appeared next to Harrison, ‘Her son’s gone missing ain’t he? Platt taken him?’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t…’
‘Did he knock off his old man? Wouldn’t surprise me if he had. Nasty piece of work, that one. Surprised he put up with him that long. Miserable old bugger.’
Harrison turned to look at the woman. She’d dyed her hair a fashionable purple. It had obviously been black once. She was confident but not cocky, with a kind face. He reckoned she’d have children of her own.
‘You knew them well?’
‘Went to school with Cameron. He was all right at first, till his mum left. Not surprised she bailed. I wouldn’t have put up with that crap, but would never have left my kid behind, mind. My mum reckoned she wouldn’t have neither, that ‘er old man done ‘er in and got rid of ‘er body somewhere. Never let my kids anywhere near e
ither of them. His dad was always shouting religious stuff at us and quoting the Bible. He told Cameron that she’d left cos of ‘im. Said it was his fault. Went weird after that. Always felt right sorry for ‘im I did, but not if he’s snatched a kiddy.’
‘Have you spoken to a police officer? Given a statement?’
‘Na. Don’t live round here no more. I was just back visiting me mate. We moved about five years ago.’
‘So his dad, he blamed him for the mother leaving?’
‘Yeah. It weren’t his fault. He was just a little kid.’
‘What was their relationship like? Cameron and his dad?’
‘He was nasty. My mum offered to sit ‘im but his old man weren’t having none of that. Said people were interfering.’
‘Would you give a statement to the police? Tell us what you know about the family, it could help us find her son.’
The woman shrugged.
‘Guess so, if you think it will help. Got a photo on my phone here, look. Dug it out when I saw the post on Facebook. It’s from when we woz in the school choir together. We woz only seven. That was just before his mum left.’
The woman turned her mobile phone around and showed it to Harrison. There on the screen was a little boy who bore more than just a passing resemblance to both Darren and Alex. Harrison had found the root of Cameron’s motivation.
30
Harrison was about to head to his bike and leave the Marion Estate flats, when he saw Tanya walking towards him. His mental survival instinct told him to go, but desire won over and as she came to a halt in front of him, his stomach did a nice warm somersault as the memory of holding her washed through him.
‘I don’t suppose you could spare half an hour, could you?’ she asked. ‘I kind of need your advice, which would also give you an explanation why I was so jumpy earlier.’
‘No explanation needed,’ he said, and watched her face drop a little, ‘but of course, you’re welcome to ask me anything.’
She smiled, but it wasn’t a reassuringly happy smile. There was a tension in her mouth. ‘Thanks, I know a good wine bar not far from here. We could pop in there for a quick drink.’
Harrison didn’t bother with his usual I don’t drink routine. First, she’d realise he wouldn’t be drinking because he was on the bike, and second, whether or not he liked it, he’d rather spend half an hour in a wine bar with her drinking water, than on his own in his flat.
The wine bar turned out to be a small place with painted grape vines adorning the walls and small, French-style tables around its edges. It was only half full. Perfect for them. They wouldn’t need to shout to be heard and could find a table to sit at.
They sat down, opposite sides of the table, and instantly felt embarrassed. Seeing each other totally outside of the work environment made them both feel a little vulnerable—even if they were there through choice.
Tanya knew Harrison was a man of few words and so she broke the ice first.
‘Look, I’m really sorry for overreacting back at the flat. That place had given me the creeps after the way we found Platt Senior’s body, and I’ve been a bit jumpy of late anyway.’
Harrison leant across the table and put his hand on hers. His touch surprised her, but in a nice way. It surprised him too.
‘Seriously, the second I realised it was one of us coming into the flat, I knew I was going to frighten you. I was standing in the near darkness, in a room which still stank of death and had until recently contained a rotting corpse—and you weren’t expecting anyone to be there. If you hadn’t jumped, I’d have been more surprised.’
At last Tanya’s face curled into a smile. ‘It must have looked pretty funny. It’s at times like that I wish I’d had the video recorder going.’
Harrison smiled along with her. He’d quite enjoyed the post-shock part, that’s for sure.
The two of them had both ordered sparkling water, much to the annoyance of the guy behind the bar who’d eye-balled them like they were trying to steal the money from his till. They both sipped at their glasses slightly awkwardly as their minds remembered their earlier embrace.
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking,’ she began. ‘But I was kind of wondering if it’s unusual for people to imagine they’re being watched and to believe it.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, in the last couple of weeks, I’ve had the feeling that someone is watching me and following me. I’ve tried to catch them, but I don’t see anyone. Is there some kind of psychological explanation?’
Harrison sat back and looked at Tanya.
‘Do you have a suspicion of who it might be? An ex-boyfriend or someone who has a grudge to bear through work?’
‘No, my ex and I parted amicably, it’s definitely not him. Who knows with work, but I can’t think of anyone.’
Harrison felt an uncomfortable trickle of envy filter through him at the thought of Tanya with her ex-boyfriend.
‘Do you really think there’s someone there?’
Tanya was silent for a little while and then nodded with a sad, worried look in her eyes. ‘I know we’re scientists and we should base our conclusions on clear evidence, but I feel it. I can’t explain it.’
‘There is a scientific explanation for that,’ said Harrison, ‘gut instinct exists, it’s real. We have an extensively complicated communication system between our stomach and our brain. Our gut system contains something like 100 million neutrons, and if something isn’t right, it tells our brain that. Our brains use all our senses to analyse situations, but sometimes our brains are too slow or too busy elsewhere—especially in today’s modern world—to notice something that’s going on. Your gut senses it, though. It will alert you even if you haven’t registered seeing something happening.’
‘Okay.’ Tanya nodded but looked slightly upset.
‘Sorry, have I made it worse?’ Harrison asked, realising that maybe what she’d wanted was him to tell her she didn’t need to worry, it was just her mind playing tricks.
‘No,’ she said, looking up at him and into his eyes. ‘You’ve told me the truth. You’ve confirmed what I know really, but just didn’t want to face up to.’
‘I’m not saying there is definitely someone watching you,’ he clarified. ‘We also all have active imaginations, and all it would take is for the suggestion of something and for that suggestion to be reinforced by what may be random coincidences, for you to then interpret it as proof.’
‘I know. You’re saying that my body’s early warning system might have detected someone, but it could also be my imagination. But I know that—not counting tonight—I’m usually the kind of person who just isn’t spooked. I live alone. I can watch horror movies and still go to bed without seeing shadows. I just don’t get easily scared. Perhaps it’s part of being a scientist and part the job we do. But lately, I’ve felt spooked. I have definitely sensed as though someone is watching me.’
‘Have you reported it?’ Harrison asked, he was getting concerned for her.
‘Reported what?’ Tanya said, ‘the invisible man? I think the best thing I can do is take some precautions, put up some CCTV, and get some kind of personal alarm. If the cameras catch someone, then maybe I could get help. But you know how tough it can be to get anything done about stalkers.’
‘You can always call me if you’re ever frightened, think someone’s there. I’m pretty good at getting through the London traffic fast.’
‘Thank you.’ She smiled into his eyes.
‘Would you like me to see you home tonight?’ Harrison asked. ‘I can follow you on my bike and make sure you get in okay.’
‘No, seriously don’t worry. I’ve got to take those knives back to the lab first, and then I’ll head home. I’ll be fine. Thank you, but I’m going to listen to my gut instincts though.’
Harrison’s gut instincts were telling him he should ask the beautiful woman across the table from him out on a proper date, but his brain overruled. He had to keep focussed on Ale
x Fuller. There was no room for distractions, no matter how pleasant they seemed.
31
DCI Barker loved her job, but there were days when she wished she’d followed her school career teacher’s advice and become a physiotherapist instead. Today was one of those days. Most cases were two steps forward and one step back, but sometimes the stakes were a lot higher, and when there was a young boy’s life on the line, well that was well near to being top of the list and it exhausted her. Every cop had to have a thick skin. First, there was the abuse that got hurled at you daily. Not only did you have to learn to ignore it, but five minutes later you might have to forgive your abusers as they became people who needed you. Second, it was the things you had to see. The scenes of death like she’d had to witness in just the last forty-eight hours. Things that human beings were capable of doing to each other. The cruelty, the greed, and the hatred.
As she pulled into the parking area outside their home, she knew that the lateness of the hour would ensure her family would be in bed asleep. Sometimes that was a good thing. There were many nights when she came home drained with nothing left to give anyone. All she craved was solitude and peace for her mind to recover from the day, ready to do it all over again the next morning.
Other times she needed to talk to them, to make contact with the people she loved, and chat about silly unimportant things, or have the kids show her some silly meme or video which could make her giggle—anything which could ground her back into the real world, the world away from being a copper.
They had left the hallway lamp on for her and it illuminated the evidence of teenage existence. Football boots dumped on the floor next to a row of trainers. Sam’s black leather shoes carefully placed together, marking out who was the grown-up. A quick look into the sitting room and an abandoned electric guitar and saxophone showed she’d missed out on some musical fun. No doubt Raff’s latest masterpiece, penned with the fuel of lovelorn angst that dominated his age group’s thoughts. She remembered those days.
She felt what she’d missed in her gut, an empty longing which groaned through her and sent her eyes to the photographs on the mantlepiece. In reality, she wouldn’t have been able to take part even if she’d been there because she was about as musical as a cat with its tail in a vice. The kids had inherited their father’s musical genes. She envied him that. With his music he was never alone, although he barely saw his wife some weeks. She used to watch him, lost in a piece of music, far away from the real-world stresses, and she longed for that escape. He saw the world in a completely different way to her. He looked upon it as an artist, hearing music in the trees and the melody of voices, the wind, and even the most mundane acts of everyday life. She saw it as cold hard facts. A crime scene or potential crime scene. A raised voice that could lead to an attack, or a gesture that betrayed a hidden menace. Some officers found their release in art or writing. She had found nothing artistic that she could do. Her drawings turned out looking like a five-year-old had done them, and her writing was too clinical and official. A staccato account of exactly what happened, without nuance or imagination. That’s why she and Sam made such a great team—they say opposites attract. Balanced parenting.
