An Unexpected Gift (5 page)

On
the night of the attack he had been driving around again. It was an excuse to
get out of the house and to clear his head. Marisa had been drunk and
unabashedly spiteful that evening. He had given her an ultimatum to leave his
house; the property was his after all. She could crawl back into the
photographer’s arms for all he cared.

He
wanted his home and his life back.

As
he drove aimlessly around Tower Hill, the lights along the river and the
familiar landmarks of Tower Bridge alerted him to the fact that he was still in
London and could drive out further.  As he turned off the busy main road onto
a quieter side street, Daniel thought he heard cries of help. His curiosity
prevented him from driving past and instead he let down his windows and drove
towards the direction of the screams. As he sped down the road he saw the
 figure of a tiny young woman lying on the floor. At first he thought she
had slipped and fallen by accident. And then his face dropped in disbelief as
he saw a man in a hooded sweatshirt grabbing the woman by her hair and pulling
her roughly along.

The
minute he saw the woman’s face covered in blood, Daniel leapt out of the car,
mumbled something, he couldn’t remember what. And realizing this was not a
little domestic but an act of extreme violence taking place in front of him, he
pelted towards the attacker.

He
hadn’t even paused to consider whether there were a group of men or just the
one.  He knew only that he needed to save her.

His
fractured ribs had been a small price to pay for that.

As
he lay in hospital later, he didn’t bother calling his soon to be ex-wife. She
didn’t need to know where he was or what had happened to him.  He doubted
whether Marisa would even notice his absence. They had become such strangers.
It didn’t matter whether he came home or not. She’d be drunk or drugged up and
in someone else’s arms anyway. He wanted her out of his life.

This
year, once Christmas was over, he would start the New Year without any excess
baggage. And women were excess baggage, as far as he was concerned.

The
return to work had been dire and dull, as it was for most people once the
festivities of Christmas and New Year ended suddenly at the stroke of midnight
on New Year’s Eve.

Kerrie
had arrived back at the flat on New Year's day and both she and Caitlin had had
yet another lazy day in front of the television.

Caitlin
didn’t tell Kerrie about her visit to Daniel's house. She wasn't sure exactly
why she had kept this information from her best friend.  Perhaps she would
tell her later.

The first week back at
work was the hardest, when the Christmas decorations at home and at work had to
be taken down. When the credit card bills appeared through the letter box and
when the dim, grim reality of all that overspending was soon apparent.

Caitlin
and Kerrie had a sure fire theory for getting through the January blues. The
first weekend they would go out and hit the sales. There was nothing quite like
doing a bit of girlie shopping and then moving on to lunch or dinner at a nice
restaurant with a movie if they still had the energy.  Something not too
expensive, because they would still be quite broke after the expense of
Christmas had filtered through.

These
were the thoughts going through Caitlin’s mind as she slipped out at lunchtime
to grab a sandwich from her favourite sandwich shop. She was looking forward to
this weekend.

Thank
goodness it's Friday,
she thought
as her stomach grumbled loudly with hunger.

The sound of her cell
phone ringing sent goose bumps down her body. A few days ago she had received a
call but when she answered it there was silence at the other end.

She
knew it was Carl.

He
had started to do this and other creepy things, when she split up with him back
in November. She had blocked his number then but now he obviously had a new
phone and had started his campaign of harassment all over again. The only
solution would be to change her number completely and this she was adamant to
do. It would mean sending out a new number to all her nearest and dearest
because of that idiot, who couldn't get over the fact that she had dumped him.

Her
heartbeat quickened when she saw that her mobile phone displayed no number
again.

"Hello?"
she said tentatively.

"Is
that Miss Quinn?" It was a firm, authoritative voice.

Caitlin
faltered, dropping the Chicken salad lunch box she had bought. 
"Yes," she bent over to pick it up again.

"It's
Detective Osborn, I'm looking into the attack on you a few days before
Christmas."

She
felt light headed suddenly, and went and rested against one of the low walls
outside the sandwich shop. "Oh, yes."

"Miss
Quinn, we believe we have the man who attacked you. We need to speak to you as
a matter of urgency."  Caitlin felt the life being sucked out of her
and she felt faint. "I see," she said in a low whisper.

"So,
if you could come by Bishopsgate Police Station sometime today and ask for me,
I'm Detective Osborn, that would be great."

"I'll
try to get there for five." She leant against the wall and remained there
for a few moments trying to get her bearings back.

It
felt as though the very core had been ripped out of her body. She had tried to
forget the night of the attack. There were still moments when she felt panicked
and breathless for no reason, often when walking home from the station. She
hated going out and getting to work was alright but getting home from work was
still something that she found difficult. Especially now since it was dark by
the time she left work. Still, she couldn’t let the attack stop her. So she
forced herself to confront her fears and try to carry on as normal. But now
that they had found her attacker, what could they want from her? She didn't
want to confront anyone from that night. She didn't want any more memories of
that event. 

Daniel
was the only pleasant memory she had from it all but she had pushed him out of
her thoughts too.

She
threw the unopened chicken salad into the dustbin and went back to work. But
she found herself flitting from her email, to her phone, checking for texts and
getting up every now and then to get some water.

After
an hour of unsuccessfully trying to get any work done, she told her boss what
had happened and he ordered her to get herself to the police station right
away. He could see that she was fearful and sad once again.

An
hour later Caitlin found herself sitting at Bishopsgate Police Station face to
face with DCI Osborn. He looked at her with his saggy, baggy eyes, his leathery
face loose and weather worn, just like the old Mac he was wearing.

"It
wasn't a random attack, I have to tell you." He went straight into it, no
sugar coating or drawing her in gently.

Blood
drained from Caitlin's face. She gripped the handle of the hard chair she found
herself in. She didn’t even remember sitting down. "What do you
mean?" she asked, her voice ragged.

"Meaning
that this man deliberately targeted you that night." The detective watched
her closely. She was such a small and tiny thing.  Beautiful and yet so delicate.
He was certain she would have come to serious harm that night had the stranger
not saved her as he did.

Caitlin
felt her stomach churn. She had a vague notion where this was heading. "I
don't understand what you mean. I don't recognize him. I saw his eyes but
that’s all. I'm certain I've never met him before."

"Does
the name Carl Summers mean anything to you?" He knew it would evoke the
reaction that he was now saw.

Caitlin felt her hands go
limp. Her body flopped back against the chair.

Yes, she knew that
bastard alright.

She would always regret
ever setting eyes on him.

Her heart lurched and she
felt queasy. Just the mere mention of his name bought a bad taste to her mouth.
She felt as though she was going to be sick but she knew she hadn’t eaten
anything for lunch. She was going to have to face this. "He...was....my ex
boyfriend," Caitlin whispered slowly, staring back at the DCI,  her
shoulders low. She had hoped she would never hear that name again or see that
man ever again but he had found a way of wheedling his sorry self back into her
life once more.

"The
man who attacked you goes by the name of Alex Ryedon.” The inspector looked at
Caitlin, “Do you know him?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Have
you ever heard of his name before?”

“No.”

“He’s
a low life petty criminal. And he has confessed that Carl Summers paid him to
attack you on the night of the nineteenth of December. You might not have
noticed it but that man was following you that night from the moment you left
work." 

Caitlin
shivered involuntarily.  Now she definitely felt that she wanted to throw
up. She put a hand to her mouth, trying to hold it all in.

The
DCI moved his chair closer to hers and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.
His eyes seemed saggier than ever as he looked at Caitlin with concern.
"Would you like a glass of water or tea?" he asked.

Caitlin shook her head.
"No thank you."

"I
realize this must come as a bit of a shock to you."

"It's
a huge shock," countered Caitlin, "I was hoping never to see or hear
from him again. He's a nasty piece of work. I wish I'd realised it
sooner."

"He
didn't come to us of his free will. This Alex Ryedon is a petty criminal. He
was caught on a charge of a violent street mugging, later that same
night.  When we hauled him in we tied him to the attack on you that night.
We found a key ring that he had dropped at the scene of your attack and when he
was arrested after the mugging a short while later it proved that he had been
at both places. He owned up. But he also told us that he had been paid to ‘rough
you up’ – his words not mine."

The
thought that Carl would do this to her sent shivers down her spine. "What
about Carl Summer's?  What happens to him?" She wanted to know that
she would be safe from him forever.

"We
need to get evidence to prove this is true. We can't take it on Alex Ryedon's word.
We're working on getting that evidence and when we have it, we'll charge him
too."

"Will
I need to see him?" asked Caitlin. She was fearful for her life.

"We'll
need to take a full history of your time together but chances are you will have
to end up going to court to testify against them both."

Her
first thought was of her parents. This news would devastate them both. So she
wouldn’t tell them just yet. Her second thought was for her own safety. Her
brown eyes misted over but she wouldn’t let the tears fall. She’d have to deal
with this herself. He wasn’t going to ruin her life all over again.

She
nodded at DCI Osborn. “Do you want me to go through it all now?”

He
arched an eyebrow at her, “Are you sure you want to talk about it now or
later?”

“Now.”
Caitlin said, sitting up in her chair and blowing her nose. She looked at the
inspector with defiantly. “Let’s get it out of the way now.”

As
Caitlin started to talk, DCI Osborn started making notes.

Almost
an hour later, a very pale faced and visibly distraught Caitlin left the police
station. All her hopes of starting this year afresh had already started to fade
and it was only the first week in January.

“How
useless are you?”

It
had been Carl’s stock phrase throughout their short time together. Sometimes he
used it as sentence, other times it was a statement.

Why can’t you ……….

Don’t wear that………

Stop staring at him………..

Who are you staring
at………..

You don’t need to do
that………

Why would you want to……….

The
initial shock that a man could behave in such a way soon vanished as she
struggled to find a semblance of the big, cuddly giant of a man she had first
met.

Very
quickly but too late for her, she realised that their relationship was based on
his desire for control. He seemed to relish putting her down and making her
feel inferior at every possible opportunity. Even making a cup of tea was put
under the closest scrutiny and he would always, always have something nasty to
say.

“You’re
useless aren’t you? Can’t even make a decent cup of tea.”

The
more she watched him the more she drew the conclusion that the constant
bullying was driven more by his own feelings of inadequacy than by anything she
had done.

He
was a fitness trainer who worked at a gym near Old Street. He told her he also
had a couple of clients that he personally trained. In saying this, she got the
impression that he was slightly overwhelmed by her. As a senior graphic
designer working for a web design agency, she remembered Carl saying her
offices, close to Covent Garden were a “bit namby pamby” on the one and only
occasion when she had asked him to meet her outside work one evening. She never
asked him again.