Shallow Waters (24 page)

83

I
paced the incident room. Davids' solicitor was going to take an age to
arrive and we couldn't say another word to him without the solicitor
being there. He was with another client mid interview, at a station
twenty miles away. No one else from the firm was available and Davids
was insisting on having a named solicitor. Charlie Marr. I wanted to
scream. He was hiding something. Stalling. And there was nothing we
could do but wait. Meanwhile the clock kept ticking.

Aaron straightened his tie, though to me, I couldn't see that it needed it. “Hannah, think.”

“I am bloody thinking. What do you think I'm doing?!” I snapped back.

“Walking.”

I
stopped. Harris looked at me from his desk. I think he expected some
kind of explosion, but I had none to give. Aaron was right. I'd walked
some of the energy out, now I needed to stop and think things through.
I grabbed a chair from a desk and pulled it to where Aaron had parked
himself.

“So what now?” I asked.

“My question to you,” he responded.

Harris
perched himself on the desk Aaron had claimed. “He's going to stop
talking. His solicitor is going to advise him to go “no comment” and
that's where we'll be.”

“Yes,” Aaron accepted.

“So...” I started.

“So?” Harris asked.

“So...” I thought as I spoke. “We don't wait for his solicitor.”

Silence dropped in the room as this was worked out.

“PACE states if a life is at immediate risk, and waiting for a solicitor hinders, risks that life,” I began.

“We can continue the interview without the solicitor,” Aaron concluded for me.

“Exactly.”

Harris stood again. “The question now is this: is this girl’s life at immediate risk?”

As
Aaron and I stood in the superintendent’s office, surrounded by
photographs of what I imagined to be his grandchildren, two boys under
five playing on a swing and slide set in a neat garden with smiling
faces, the decision was made that the risk to life wasn't immediate
enough. The superintendent, Alan Phelan, leaned back in his chair,
crossing his stubby fingers in front of him as he explained. We had
known about the girl in the photograph for the past few days and
nothing had changed that we knew about. He was at great pains to make
sure I understood his reasoning. I contained my anger and paced in
small circles in the office space in an attempt to keep a lid on what I
felt as I would risk my place on the investigation if I blew up at a
super in a foreign force now. After being ripped off the investigation
following the explosion, it felt as though Walker was waiting for any
excuse to take me off and I wasn't going to give it to her. My body
throbbed, each breath now burning like fire and the inside of my head
felt as though someone was tightening a metal vice around it, one twist
of a screw at a time.

“I
know how badly you want it inspector, but you have to understand, my
hands are tied.” He unlocked his fingers and linked his wrists together
to put meaning to his already frustrating words. “The law is very
specific on this, it has to be immediate and I can't justify this as
immediate enough.” His fingers linked back up. “I'm sorry.”

Aaron
nodded and ushered me through the glass panelled door. “We have to
wait, Hannah. Nothing for it. Look, we're further along than we've
been. We could find her tonight.” He was trying to keep me in check and
he was also right.

We grabbed a drink, I took a couple of the pills the hospital had provided and waited for the named solicitor, Marr, to arrive.

It
didn't take as long as expected, but it was long enough. I was wound up
and felt as though my head was about to explode. Marr was pleasant
enough when he arrived in the custody suite. He looked tired and as
though he'd had a long day. His dark hair was ruffled and untidy, but
his clothes were smart, his suit jacket buttoned up and his black
shoes, polished. He offered instant professionalism, a smile and a
handshake, one that was firm but chilled from the night air. I didn't
have time to engage in the usual niceties and I saw my abruptness stop
him short a little. We needed to move this along.  He put his
briefcase down and rubbed his cold hands together.

“Okay,
what do we have?” he asked.  I handed him Davids’ custody record.
A quick read through gave him the facts of arrest. After reading, his
eyes met mine with a more solemn look than he'd arrived with. He picked
his briefcase back up from the floor. “Are you ready to give
disclosure, Detective Inspector?”

“If
you come this way, Mr Marr.” I showed him into one of the consultation
booths and handed him the written disclosure, outlining the information
we required from his client. “I'm sorry,” I said to him, “we don't have
time to go over all the details in this interview. What we need to know
are the facts as he knows them. A girl’s life is at risk and if he can
help, you know it will go on the file that ends up at court.”

Marr
nodded but gave nothing away. He was here to do what was right by his
client, no matter his thoughts on it, but I'd given him the facts and I
just had to hope that Marr and Davids had it in them to help.

The
interview was hopeless. In the end it really did seem that Jesse Davids
knew no more than he'd already told us. The drugs had turned his brain
into a long endless landscape of nothingness where the only things
visible were the landmarks for obtaining the money for the fixes he
needed to keep himself going. How he managed to get young girls to fall
for him was beyond me, but then I wasn't a vulnerable teenager with
beliefs that no one would love me or that I wasn't worthy of love.

We
left Shaun Harris to finalise their end of the investigation. There was
nothing further we could do here. I thanked him and his team and I
hoped that I'd not left him being too hard on himself for not picking
Jesse Davids up earlier. It was an easy link to have missed. He had his
homicide detection already wrapped up. He didn't need to look further.
Howard had given him all he needed for a safe conviction.  I
didn't know about Harris beating himself up, I was doing a pretty good
job of that on myself. I felt utterly defeated and burned out. I'd
pushed myself and everyone else to the limit and for what? We didn't
have anything. We had chased our tails over a single photograph with
zero results. The weather reflected my mood perfectly as we drove back
to Nottingham. It was dark; the rain was pounding down, lashing the
windscreen and bouncing up from the road making visibility difficult.
Aaron steadfastly focussed on the road as I sunk in the passenger seat,
arms wrapped around my ribs trying to hold it together.

“Have you spoken to Anthony or Catherine?”

“What?”

“Anthony, Catherine. You know, the bosses.”

I
stuck the heel of my hand in my eye and rubbed. “No. I've had my phone
off for the interviews and haven't turned it back on.” I sighed. It
seemed like too much effort. I just wanted to get into bed and stay
there for a few days. Instead I leaned into the footwell and rummaged
through my bag where I had last thrown my phone as I listened to the
persistent and steady squeak of the wipers as they crossed the
windscreen. I pushed the button and the screen lit up. I waited as it
connected and watched as the wipers fought to keep the windscreen
clear, oncoming headlights hitting the water and distributing out the
glare across the view in front of me.

“Great,
twelve missed calls and five voice-mails.” I scrolled through the
missed calls log, I had seven from Grey and five from withheld numbers,
but if anyone called from a work landline, they would display as
withheld. I went to the voicemail section and hit the key to listen to
my messages. “What's the betting Anthony is stressing,” I muttered as I
waited for it to connect. Aaron nodded, his eyes still focussed on the
road ahead.

First new message. Message left at one, fifty one today.
“Hannah, it’s Anthony. Let me know how you're getting on.”

Second new message. Message left at two o three today.
“Han, It's me.” Ethan. I wasn't expecting that. He must have called
from a work landline himself for it to be a withheld number as I hadn't
seen his number on my missed calls list. I glanced at Aaron and moved
the phone to my left ear. “I miss you. Call me.” That's it. I supposed
it was more than I'd given him.

Third new message. Message left at two twenty seven today.
Silence. “Great. Another.” Aaron furrowed his brow.

Fourth new message. Message left at two twenty nine today.
“Please help me. I don't want to move home again. I don't want to do
this anymore. Don't let them do this. If we move, she'll go and then
she'll die like the rest. Please.”

84

I
recognised the voice immediately. It was distinctive in its mousey
quiet way. The caller that was pleading for my help on the voice-mail
hours ago was Caroline Manders. The girl I sat and talked with in front
of her parents about her missing friend, Rosie Green. The girl who was
too afraid to talk without looking for permission from her father. The
father I could see controlling her as I sat there and did nothing and
now Caroline was telling me they were leaving. Leaving and killing
someone before going. How could I miss this? The thoughts ran through
my head at speed as I replayed the message on loudspeaker for Aaron as
we parked at the side of the road, orange hazard lights blinking their
rhythmic warning. I'd shouted at Aaron to pull the car over and we were
docked up on a grass verge. Caroline's thin voice barely broke through
the ticking of the hazards and the beating of the rain as I replayed it
yet again.

Any
fatigue that had been gnawing away at me was now gone, replaced with a
renewed urgency. We had to move and we had to move quickly. I didn't
know what was happening in Norwich as we sat here. There was no way to
know if we would, yet again, be too late.

“Phone
Ross and get him and Sally travelling, they've been in from the start
and I want them there when we take this down. Then phone Anthony and
fill him in. Ask intelligence to see what they have on the Manders and
the address and find out what previous addresses they've had.” I shot
out directions to Aaron as I scrolled through my phone and dialled out.
The call I made was to Clive Tripps.

I
briefed Clive of as much as I could considering I didn't have much of a
picture myself at the minute and he said he would ask his team to stay
on until we got there. He said he would also swear out the search
warrant with the local magistrates while we travelled to them.

The
rain was still coming down hard as we walked from the car. I could see
Clive as he ran from the doorway of the police station. He had a paper
file over his head, which was did nothing to protect him. Water was
streaming down his face. Down all our faces. Clive held out his free
hand towards me as he reached us. “Hannah, good to see you again. Sorry
it's under these circumstances.”

I shook his hand. Rain ran down my sleeve. “Hi Clive. Thanks for setting this up so quickly.”

Clive turned back towards the building and we picked up our pace and ran for the door.

Martin was in the incident room. “Looks like we have our man then?”

“It
certainly does. Ready to come back once this is done? There's a ton of
work piling up on your desk.” I tried to smile. The tension I felt was
too much though and it probably looked like a lopsided grimace.

“Absolutely. Raring to go as always.” A more relaxed easy smile came to Martin’s face. He took everything in his stride.

Clive
grabbed a couple of chairs and sat down in the incident room. It seemed
he wanted to be out here with his team as we were about to pull this
whole job together. I sat in one of the chairs offered. “Glad to hear
it.”

I went over what we knew with Clive again, who was as pleasant and
accommodating as our previous visit, but with a simmering anger that I
knew was probably being directed internally as my own was. This had
been a long winded job, with the senseless deaths of young girls. We
had been so close and we had walked away, right out the door.

I
called Ross and Sally and briefed them as they continued their drive
over. They were making good time and would be with us soon. We were
pulling everything together and were not going to take any chances.
Nima put a call in to ambulance control and requested an ambulance be
put on standby a couple of streets away from the address in the hope
that the girl was still there and if she was in need of medical
attention, it would be available.

An
official briefing was held in the large command briefing room. A bland
rectangular room that contained a large oval table and accommodated at
least twenty chairs. On a wall at one end of the table was a video
conference screen. I could see a couple of cops in uniform sat in an
equally bland room elsewhere in the force and was informed that they
were two dog section officers. In the corner of the screen were all the
people sat around our table.

The
briefing involved Clive’s Superintendent, Bruce Graham, the homicide
investigation team, including Kev and Nima, and several uniform cops
needed for the entry and search team. We couldn't take any chances.
Everyone was made aware of how dangerous these people were and that the
priorities were to secure the offender and locate the girl.

Just
as the briefing ended, Sally and Ross were shown in. Quick
introductions were made and we were ready. We were going to take down
this paedophile ring and my gut twisted into knots as I kept hold of
the hope that the girl was still alive.