Shallow Waters (13 page)

41

It
was late by the time we got into interview with Benn. The daytime
civilian staff had all left the building. Offices were closed and
lights off. Booking into custody, waiting for a solicitor and
disclosure took time. 

The
duty solicitor was more than likely at home and had been disturbed in
the middle of a meal by a call requesting their presence at the police
station. The disclosure from police to solicitor and subsequent
consultation with their client could take hours again. Written
disclosure was often a bone of contention between police and attending
solicitors. Not disclosing enough could mean the interview wouldn't run
smoothly as client and solicitor broke to discuss previously unknown
and not disclosed and consulted issues before answering questions. The
whole disclosure issue caused new officers no end of headaches. Aaron
wrote up the disclosure for Benn's solicitor, giving the pertinent
facts of the case and reason for arrest, stating Benn would be asked
about these and any items seized from the address. He was great at
writing up a disclosure without giving them our case on a plate. In
this instance, we weren't disclosing the DNA evidence. We wanted to see
how Benn was going to play his knowledge of Rosie. I couldn't figure it
out, so getting a version out of Benn prior to giving him our hand
would be interesting.

Now,
hours after his arrest, we were sat in the interview room with him. It
was windowless and airless. A table, four hard plastic moulded chairs
and a black box tape machine, a remnant of the eighties, were the only
items in the room. Benn was seated at one side of the table with his
solicitor, Ms Corinne Selby, a small blonde who looked fresh out of
school. She'd taken the written disclosure from me with a tight smile.

Copious notes, reports and a couple of pens rested on the table between us.

Aaron
flicked his pen against the table in an irritating rhythmic way.
Corinne Selby looked at the pen, then at Aaron, lips pursed. He
continued tapping to an inaudible beat.

“I'll ask you again, Colin. How did you know Rosie Green?”

“I don't know anyone by that name,” Benn replied, sitting straight in his chair.

“Okay, let’s start with things you do know. Tell me about your relationship with Natalie Kirk.”

“What
do you want to know?” This seemed to abate his anxiety. His shoulders
relaxed and he shrank down in his chair in an easy slide. I was happy
to let him talk about the things he was comfortable with first. If he
was comfortable, I hoped he would keep talking and not notice the
direction we were going in.

“How did you meet her?”

“In
a bar. We hooked up a few times. She liked a good time. I like a girl
that likes a good time.” His lip curled up at one side. This man made
my skin crawl. I took a moment, appraising him, feeling his mood.

“And Allison, how did she come into it?”

“Huh. She was her kid.”

“We know that, Colin. What we want to know is: what was your relationship with her?” I picked up my cup and drank as he talked.

“I
made an effort. You have to, don't you? Someone else's kid. Mind you,
Nat wasn't much interested in her. Pretty much left her to her own
devices, she did. All she were interested in were where her next hit
was coming from.”

“And you were interested in?” I put my cup back on the table and watched.

“Me?
What I could get. No point in pretending otherwise is there? Nat was a
whore with a drink problem. Didn't care much for anything and put out
so long as she were tanked.”

Aaron
scribbled notes as Benn talked. The solicitor also made notes, her hand
working quickly to keep up. I often wondered if these notes would match
up should they ever be compared.

“What kind of effort did you put in with Allison?”

“Spent some time with her when her mum were too pissed.”

“Too pissed for what?”

“Sex. Did you see her? Why else is anyone gunna be with her?”

“What happened when she was too pissed to put out?”

“I didn't get it, did I.”

“Didn't you?”

“Pissed
up bitch would lay out face down on the sofa. Wouldn't have a clue what
were happening around her.” Benn went on, the smell of sweat and
rotting feet rising up and filling the small room.

He
talked for another hour. About how Natalie didn't care for her
daughter, how all she wanted was her next drink. He painted a dark
picture of life at home for Allison and I saw why she would want to
leave it behind. It made the small space she'd fashioned for herself in
her room even more poignant. Her house wasn't a place she could call a
home, but she did have somewhere to go when she was inside it: her
bedroom. I wondered what else she had done to keep herself away from
her mother.

42

We
left Benn in his cell. We'd been in interview for hours. According to
his solicitor, who was not looking so fresh faced after multiple hours
in a square box of a room with Colin Benn, he needed a break and some
food.  It was late and after review with the custody sergeant now
on duty, it was decided we would leave him for the night and go again
in the morning.

We
didn't have a confession, but he was a talker. He liked to be the big
man. To make the rules. Happy as long as his needs were met. He was
comfortable discussing his relationships, seeing nothing wrong with
them.

Grey looked worried as he trotted out of his office. His fingers twitched.

“Sir.” I acknowledged his presence in the incident room. The team stopped and waited. 

“Hannah, how's it going with Benn?”

“He
hasn't given us much so far, but he's talking about his relationship
with Natalie Kirk and stepping into things a little with Allison. He
denies all knowledge of Rosie but we haven't put the forensics to him
yet. This is his time to run and we'll see where he takes us.” I
couldn't tell if this response was what he wanted to hear or not. His
hands fidgeted more and his eyes moved around the room. “He's down for
the night, but we'll go back into interview in the morning.”

“Do we have results from the computer work?”

“No sir, they're still working on it.”

“And the custody clock?”

“We're.....
into it. I'll have to speak with Catherine about an extension. With all
the breaks and his eight hours sleep entitlement we need the time.”

“Okay, okay, but we need results, Hannah. You know we're being watched on this one.”

I sighed. “Yes sir, I realise that.”

43

The cage door opened.

“Come out here.”

The
girl shrank back. But not too far. She didn't want to annoy him. It was
easy to do and when he was annoyed, things got worse.

“Come on then, out you come.”

She
kept her eyes down. She had to please him but knew never to look him in
the eye. Eye contact was insolence and she learned about insolence very
early on.

“Good girl. Stand up straight. That's it. I can see all of you now. Beautiful.”

She kept her eyes down. The room felt warmer.

“Time to clean you up. Just look at you, you're filthy. How did you manage to get so dirty?”

She knew better than to answer him. He didn't want a response.

She
jumped back, startled when his slender fingers grabbed her wrist. His
grip tightened like a vice, locking around tiny bones and sending a
deep throb through her arm.

His jaw clenched taut.

She didn't look up to his eyes.

“Now then, it's only a clean. You want to look pretty don't you?”

She nodded. Eyes down.

She saw the bowl, soapy water and a large pink bath sponge.

“Come here then, let’s get you cleaned up.” His grip loosened.

She
tried her hardest not to flinch as he took the sponge, dipped it in the
warm soapy water and started to wipe her clean. He started at the top,
wiping her face, rubbing at areas, tutting at her as he rubbed hard.
Areas she knew were really dirty. Or bloody. The warmth of the water
felt good. It was gentle and soothing. It caressed her skin and made
her feel again. She wanted to sit in this warmth, soak in the small
bowl.

“Good isn't it?”

She stiffened.

He
dipped the sponge again, dripping water around her neck and rubbing.
The friction caused her to jump, the rubbing making her eyes water. The
sponge dipped in and out of the bowl as he cleaned her from top to
bottom. Dipping and rubbing until all dirt and blood was washed away.

“There's my good girl. Now, time for some photographs.” 

44

I
walked three flights of stairs to the warmest room in the building: the
Digital Investigation Unit. The department required special flooring so
they didn't electrocute themselves, or so I was led to believe. It was
like a technical Alice in Wonderland experience in here. Computer
towers on every desk. Slinky double screened monitors at every
workstation. Spare hard drives, discs and flash drives stacked up on
shelves and the educational achievements of all the staff were
displayed along the walls. 

Today
I wanted their professionalism to focus on the computer seized from
Benn's address and, if possible, the computers from Rosie Green and
Allison Kirk, though Benn's was priority. Benn had been working
furiously on his computer when we arrived and I'd seen him deleting
files. I wanted to know what he was so keen to get rid of.

The
heat being kicked out of the servers was stifling. I removed my jacket
and threw it on the back of a chair near the door. I was surprised to
see someone still here. Two staff were sat at their desks; Danny
Scrivens and Elizabeth Turner.

“Okay,
so who's working on Benn's computer?” I asked, hopeful it had indeed
been picked up as a job and wasn't sat in some queue waiting for me to
come in here and explode.

“It's
mine, Ma'am. Over here at my workstation.” Danny sat at the rear of the
room. I walked over to his desk. At the side of him was a framed
photograph of a woman around his age, with a child in her arms. Both
looked relaxed and happy. A cloudless powder blue sky provided the pair
with a beautiful background.

“Have you located anything to link him to these murders?”

Danny laughed and I gritted my teeth. After a tense day I had no sense of humour.

“What is it you think you're looking for?” he asked.

Where to start? “I need to find a link between Benn and Rosie Green.”

Danny's
face was serious “Computers are complicated machines. I can't just go
in and find what you think is in here. We don't know what we're looking
for so I don't know where to start. What I can do first if you want, is
a triage of the hard drive and forensically retrieve all the images it
holds. It's a good starting point.”

I
was overwhelmed with the techy stuff, but trusted them and what they
were doing so after having an over-my-head technical discussion about
the best course of action, I asked for the images to be placed on a
separate hard drive so we would be able to check them out, prior to
heading back into interview tomorrow. I didn't know if it would be
helpful or not, but at least it was something to be going on with.

“What is it you think you're looking for?”

“I
don't know, Danny. Maybe contact between Benn and the victim, Rosie
Green, through social networking sites, email, or other means. I need
to find a link between them and if possible not just a straight forward
link to her, but messages of plans to meet, etcetera. When can the
images be viewed? I wouldn't push, but he's in custody now with the
clock running.”

“I
can have a copy hard drive full of the images on his computer within a
couple of hours, how does that sound? The full on examination is going
to take days, maybe weeks to complete thoroughly.”

“Sounds good. I'll ask Ross to come in and check them when they're ready. I'm thinking early doors tomorrow now?”

“Yes,
it's late. I've no issue with staying on to set this running. I'm not
sure we will be able to find the answers you want though, but we can
look to see what he's been up to.”

“Thanks, Danny.” With that organised, I grabbed my discarded jacket and left.

My
body ached and my mind buzzed. I'd lived through an explosion but
hadn't stopped to process it. The hours of the day were blending into
each other and I needed to keep a constant eye on the clock. I needed a
break.

The
area that used to be a canteen, before the financial cuts, was now a
room filled with tables, chairs and a few vending machines for drinks,
chocolate and sandwiches. A microwave and toaster were housed on one of
the old kitchen counters. A half used bottle of washing up liquid and a
well-worn cloth were discarded in the sink. Bread crumbs gathered
around the bottom of the toaster. Cops were bad for clearing up in
communal eating areas.

I
fished some change out of my trouser pocket, pushed it into the slot
and punched the buttons for black coffee. The machine whirred into
life, dropped down a cardboard cup into metal jaws and dribbled in the
coffee. I twisted my hand into the small space and wished for the time
when police stations had canteens where you got your drinks in cups
with handles and a smile. I didn't drink coffee often, but it was hot,
was strong enough to give me a caffeine burst and was giving me ten
minutes space.

The
old canteen was empty. I sat at a table to the side, the smell of
disinfectant heavy from the cleaners who wiped them all down before
they left for the day.

It
was dark outside and the uniformed night shift was on. Dependant on the
incoming call levels, some cops would be sat catching up on paperwork
created on day shifts, and a few would be out on calls. Night time left
the station with a ghost ship feel about it.

I looked at my phone. One missed call.
Dad.
I hadn't got back to him after his call a couple of days ago. I knew I
should call him back, but I couldn't face it. With every call I dreaded
the content of the conversation, so instead of facing it head on, I
avoided it. Avoided my father. It wasn't his fault, but I didn't want
to deal with it. I didn't want to deal with his loss of mum as well as
my own and I didn't want to deal with what he felt as a loss in my
sister Zoe. I saw no loss there. Her own actions had landed her with
the heavy prison sentence. A deep breath escaped from me and I put my
head in my hands. I knew I needed to call him back. I promised myself
I'd do it when we put Benn away.

After
sending the team home and writing up the decision log it was time to
head home myself. We had another early start tomorrow and I needed at
least a few hours sleep. I needed to run a bath, pour a drink and sit
down.

The
living room had an empty, hollow feel about it. I switched the central
heating on and pulled the vodka bottle from the cupboard on the wall in
the kitchen. Clinking bottle on glass, I poured a heavy shot as I
walked back to the living room and dropped down onto the sofa. A sharp
edged pain sliced across my chest and around my back. I sucked in my
breath and wished I hadn't been so thoughtless. With a more reserved
movement, I lifted my feet up under myself, rested my head back and
balanced the glass on the arm of the sofa. It had been a roller-coaster
few days, starting with Rosie's body, then Allison's, the explosion at
Natalie’s and the arrest of Benn. Only now did I feel able to let out a
slow breath. It felt like I hadn't taken one in days. But now we had
Benn and we had a good case against him. I slugged back half the drink
then remembered the painkillers I'd been taking through the day. It
crossed my mind I shouldn't be drinking. I took another drink. I
wondered how Sally was doing but knew it was too late to call her now.
She'd be asleep and after what she'd been through she needed her rest.

Thoughts
of Natalie stirred guilt in me. I hadn't checked on her before leaving
work. A point in time when I could have called Sally. But I could do
something about my error over Natalie.
I
finished my drink then dialled the hospital. I was put through to the
ward sister who sounded like hers had also been a long day.

“There's still no change, but she's stable, Detective Inspector.”

“She's had no visitors?”

“No, and there has been a police officer by her all the time. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

She wanted me off the phone. She had things to do. I understood. “No thank you. I appreciate your time.”

“Good night, inspector.”

I ended the call. Natalie was safe. I hoped in the next couple of days I could tell her we had her daughter's killer.

My
phone vibrated in my hand. I checked the caller display expecting it to
be work related, with a request to go back in, but instead the caller
ID showed
Ethan
. Thumbing the green accept key, I answered.

“It seems an age since we spoke,” Ethan said.

“It does.” I was happy to hear his voice. I picked up the vodka bottle and poured another drink.

“You need someone to lean on.”

“And where would I find someone like that?”

“Right outside your door.”

I
pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it for a couple of
seconds before Ethan’s distant voice remind me he was still there.

“Hannah?”

I
opened the door, phone still in hand, the back-light still showing
Ethan on the call. He stood in the hallway of my apartment building,
his back resting against the wall opposite. Dressed in jeans and a
shirt open at the neck, his hair slightly damp, he was staring intently
at me.

“Ethan?”

He stepped through the door and his hand went up to my face. I remembered how I must look.

“I needed to see you, Hannah.” His thumb traced one of the small red
cuts caused by the impact of the blast, before he leaned down and
kissed me.

He
took my breath away. His body leaned in to me and with one foot he
kicked back and closed the door. I pushed my phone onto the table at
the side of the door and ignored the crash as it dropped to the floor.

“I was worried. You didn't return my call.” He broke away, a look on his face I didn't recognise.

“I'm sorry. It's been so busy. We have someone in custody. It's been hectic. I meant to call,” I rambled.

Ethan
cupped my face with his right hand, his eyes connected with mine. I
didn't move. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. His left hand
wrapped around my waist. Something shifted inside me. The weariness I
was feeling had changed and now I felt alert, alive.

I managed to find my voice. “Ethan, what are you doing here?”

“This.”
His mouth found mine again, his lips warm, the odour of freshly washed
skin filled my nostrils. My mouth parted, my brain function slowed. I
wrapped my arms around his neck and winced as my ribs resisted. I
pulled my arms down and rested my hands on his chest. “Hey.” He
noticed. “Easy.” He took my hand from his chest and led me from the
doorway we still stood in, through the living room and into the
bedroom. We stood there a second, just looking. “It hurts?”

“Yeah.”
I took a deep breath. Admission is a killer. “It hurts.” His eyes
narrowed and he cupped my face in his hands, leant forward and kissed
my lips, so softly I barely realised he was there. I pushed my hand up
under his shirt to his chest and felt his heart thudding under my
palm.  His fingers took my shirt buttons and, one by one, he
unfastened them, never taking his eyes from my face. I couldn't move. I
didn't want to move. I didn't want to be anywhere but here. I leaned
into him and kissed him. Deep within me there was an ache that just
needed to be met. As I pushed forward and up to meet him, I also felt
the pain of my ribs wrap itself around my chest; it blended into
everything my body was now feeling. Ethan held my shoulders, slowed me
down and dropped the shirt from me as the last button yielded. My skin
felt alive. His mouth came down and found the curve in my neck. I
dropped my head back, he held me secure, one arm wrapped around the
small of my back and the other holding my head. His mouth was hot but
his movement slow and easy. A groan escaped my lips. Ethan stopped.

“Here.”
He held out his hand and pulled me gently over to the bed, lifted me up
and on to it before lying down at the side of me.

“God,
you know how to make a man come running don't you? Just get blown up!”
He laughed, but it was forced, his voice raspy. It was my turn to show
sensitivity. I kissed him. I had never wanted him so much.