Bleed Like Me (12 page)

‘Smell of drink, or anything else?’ Preferably something specific and unusual that would help them track him down.

‘I didn’t notice. It all happened so fast, you know. Once I clocked who it was, like it was all speeded up, you know?’

‘Anything on his clothes or hands?’ Janet said.

‘Don’t remember anything. But he looked a bit rough. He hadn’t shaved.’ Rahid touched a bandaged hand to his own full, black beard. ‘His eyes were bloodshot. They were . . .’ he laughed and flinched, ‘like cold, you know, dead.’ Maybe. Or maybe already Rahid was embroidering the story.

‘The car,’ Rachel said, ‘clean, dirty, dusty?’ It hadn’t rained since the previous day. That was both a plus and a minus. The rain washed away evidence, obscured traces, but it also made mud which was perfect for collecting tyre tracks and footwear impressions.

Rahid’s lips parted and his eyes roamed back, exploring the memory. He laughed.
Bingo
. ‘There were bits on it, sticky bits like from trees. I don’t know – what is that? Tree juice?’

Not at all funny. Rachel gave him a smile. Being nice.

If any of the sticky bits had been dislodged, left on the forecourt, it could give them something. The forensic biologists or botanists could identify the type of trees. Where they would be found. All over the shop, probably, Rachel thought. Still, it lent some weight to the notion of his being holed up somewhere overnight long enough to have picked up debris from the trees.

‘What did you see of the children?’ Janet asked.

‘Just the one on this side, driver’s side. In a car seat. He was
asleep, head down. But I could hear crying. The other one was crying.’

‘Could you see his clothes?’ Janet said.

He shook his head. ‘Just the top of his head. I don’t remember. By the time I got close he’d started hitting me.’

‘Did you see anything inside the car?’ Rachel said.

‘No, it was all too fast. The way he came at me. I thought he was going to kill me.’ He exhaled noisily.

‘Did he say anything when you got hold of him?’ Rachel said.

‘Just swore at me, “fuck off out of it”.’ Rahid flushed. ‘Then he’s kicking me. Thought I was done for.’

‘You’d better keep an eye on that.’ Janet nodded to his hand. Rachel could see the little finger was badly swollen and dark purple. ‘If it’s broken and you don’t get it set right . . .’

‘Ribs too,’ Rachel said.

‘They can’t do anything for ribs, can they?’ Rahid said. ‘Just a corset, yeah?’

‘That’s right,’ Rachel said. ‘Bigger problem is if a rib’s broken and it punctures something. Like a lung,’ she added so he was really clear. ‘If you find yourself getting breathless . . .’

‘I’ll be fine.’ He waved their concern away.

‘Hey up,’ Rachel said as they walked out into the shop. ‘The circus is here.’ Vans were parked on the far side of the road. A camera crew were setting up.

Rachel impressed upon Rahid that he should not discuss the incident in public or speculate as it could aversely affect any future legal proceedings when he might be called as a witness. ‘No Facebook or Twitter. Yeah. The family too.’ There was a hint of disappointment as he agreed. It was harder and harder to maintain control of publicity. The force themselves used Twitter as a tool to communicate with and
reassure the general public. Rachel never got all that: waste of time wittering on with strangers.

‘Your kids into it? Facebook, Twitter?’ she said to Janet as they returned to the car.

‘Big time. They all are. Out on a limb if you’re not.’

‘It’s going to hit Rahid before long that Cottam got away in spite of him. He might have more than a bloody nose to cope with when the lights come up,’ Rachel said.

‘Maybe what we find here will be key to a result. We find him and the kids, then Rahid’s done good.’

‘You think it’s likely?’

‘It’s possible.’ Janet being cautious.

Personally Rachel thought the prospect got more and more remote with each hour. But Cottam’s actions were bugging her. ‘He bought them food and medicine and nappies. Why do that if he’s still going to harm them?’

‘Stop them crying. Kids crying – you can’t think. There’s nothing worse,’ Janet said with feeling.

There was a sudden blur of motion, the screech of brakes near the garage entrance. Rachel’s heart flew into her mouth and she started, jumping backwards, almost losing her balance. It was another news van.

Janet looked at her and Rachel felt her cheeks glow. ‘Just jumpy,’ she said.

‘Since when?’ Janet wasn’t smiling, wasn’t cutting her any slack.

‘Just today,’ Rachel said, ‘since breakfast, which I didn’t have.’ She tapped her nose, showing Janet she was prying.

‘So it’s got absolutely nothing to do with the attempt on—’

‘No, nothing. Ready?’

Janet laughed, shaking her head.

‘What?’

‘Not much of an advert, are we? Me with my cramps, you
jumping at shadows. They should put us out to grass.’

‘Speak for yourself, Grandma, nowt wrong with me. Might get a snack on the way, though. Stop if we see anywhere.’

They found a mini-market and Rachel went in.

‘Get me chocolate,’ Janet called after her.

‘Here you go,’ Rachel said when she came back. ‘I’m having this.’ She unwrapped her food and took a bite, hot and salty.

‘What is that supposed to be?’ Janet said.

‘All day breakfast. It was that or Hula Hoops. Thought you’d approve.’

‘I do,’ Janet said, ‘but open the window, will you? It smells revolting.’

Janet was entering the details of her report on Rahid into the system when her phone went. Her mother, in full schoolmistress fashion. ‘Janet, tell me it isn’t true. Adrian says you are going to interview that man.’

‘Mum,’ Janet sighed, getting to her feet, preferring to take this call in the Ladies, away from twitching ears. She would brain Ade when she saw him. A low-down, sneaky trick enlisting her mother.

‘Are you out of your mind?’ her mother said. ‘After what he did to you?’

‘It’s my job, Mum.’

‘Someone else can do it. Let Rachel do it. Or did she put you up to it?’

‘Nobody put me up to it,’ Janet said.

‘You volunteered?’ her mother breathed in horror.

‘Not exactly.’ Janet leant looking into the mirror as she talked. The bags under her eyes looked bigger, the shadows darker. ‘I was asked, I thought about it – carefully. And I agreed.’

‘Talk to Gill,’ her mother said. ‘She’ll see sense, surely. Even if you can’t.’ Her mother idolized Gill, saw her as the epitome of what a professional woman could become and was always nudging Janet to be more like her.

‘It was Gill who asked me,’ Janet said, wondering whether Ade had told her mother that it had been at Geoff Hastings’s request.

Stunned silence. But not for long. ‘I’ve a good mind—’

‘This is my job,’ Janet said. Rachel came into the Ladies as she went on, ‘Mum, can you imagine if some detective had tried to muscle in on you when you were teaching? You’d have soon shown them the door.’

‘I worry about you. And this seems so dangerous, so wilful.’

Janet looked over to Rachel, who was leaning on the wall with her arms crossed, and rolled her eyes. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘When it happens, if it happens, we’ll be in a secure environment with other officers on hand. He’s behind bars, Mum, and I’m going to make sure he stays there for the rest of his life.’

A loud sigh.

‘And how are you?’ Janet said.

‘Not feeling all that great, to be honest.’

Because of this?
Janet felt a prickle of guilt. Her mother had always been solid as a rock whenever Janet needed her. But especially after the attack. Janet didn’t want to bring any pain or distress to her door. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Just out of sorts every way. Achy.’

‘There’s a lot of bugs going round,’ Janet said. ‘Maybe you’ve caught something. Taisie had one, Ade as well.’ She could hear a forced edge in her voice and tried to rein it in. Hard sometimes to remember that her mother was older now, beginning to need a little help with things after a lifetime of being a competent working wife and mother. Difficult to
know how much had changed since Janet’s dad died. Her mum had seemed to weather it well but perhaps the strain was only showing now. Loneliness and grief leading to a lack of confidence.

‘Maybe,’ her mum said, not sounding very sure.

‘Have you taken anything for it?’

‘I don’t really like to,’ she said.

‘A couple of paracetamol won’t do any harm,’ Janet said. Sometimes her mother regarded a reliance on medicine as a craven weakness only a step away from crack cocaine or heroin addiction. A stoic edge to her character that could become martyrish if taken too far.

‘You will be careful, won’t you?’

‘Always,’ Janet said. ‘I’ll ring you later in the week.’

‘You can always change your mind,’ Rachel said as Janet put her phone down.

‘I don’t want to,’ Janet said. ‘I want to make him pay. Dig up every dirty detail on what he did to all those other women. They don’t get it, Ade, my mum. I could have been the latest on the list. It means we find out the truth for the people, the parents and the husbands and the kids. Truth and justice. That’s the point. They don’t get it. You get it, don’t you? I am making sense?’

‘I get it.’

‘Good.’ Janet picked up her phone and went back to work.

Gill read through the press release while Lisa, the chief press officer, waited in the doorway.
Police repeated the request for the public to be alert to sightings of Owen Cottam, aged forty-five, wanted for questioning in connection with the deaths of his wife Pamela, Pamela’s brother Michael Milne and the Cottams’ eleven-year-old daughter. Cottam is white
,
of medium build, six foot tall, with dark hair and a moustache. He was last seen in the Ormskirk area, wearing jeans and a dark green sweatshirt. Cottam is understood to have left the family home yesterday morning with his two sons, aged two and a half years and eighteen months. He may be travelling in a blue Ford Mondeo. Police advise the public not to approach Owen Cottam but to contact them immediately on the following number . . .

‘That’s fine,’ she said. The next instalment in the story of the Cottam murder and disappearance, as far as the great British public was concerned, would be the appeal to his son by Mr Cottam senior and the issue of the press release. Gill would conclude the conference by saying they were hoping that the situation could be resolved satisfactorily. A catch-all that equalled no further bloodshed.

‘Same photo?’ Lisa said. ‘Only we have a different one, might help.’ She held up a copy. Cottam relaxed, a half-smile. ‘It’s a similar style top but I’m not so happy about the cap.’ A baseball cap. ‘What you think?

Tempting as it was to start debating the merits, Gill was swamped so passed the ball back. ‘Your call,’ she said. ‘Long as we don’t confuse them.’

‘Everything’s ready for the appeal. I’ve booked the conference room. Dennis Cottam is on his way. Son and daughter-in-law are coming with. The son’s happy to sit in. Okay with you?’

‘Absolutely,’ Gill said.

‘See you there.’ Lisa left.

Gill went back to her files, reprising the new data coming in from the different arms of the inquiry and considering whether to make any changes to the direction, the strategy, of the investigation.

A knock on her door: Kevin. ‘The CCTV that came in – I’ve
found him going into Skelmersdale after leaving the petrol station.’

‘Show me.’

In the viewing room, Kevin ran the tape. The Mondeo passing a traffic camera on the dual carriageway. It was clear but not clear enough to see the children. They’ll still be there, Gill told herself. He wouldn’t have had time to stop the car at any point since making his getaway after attacking Mr Rahid. ‘Show me on the map,’ Gill said.

Kevin clicked on the desktop and opened a file which brought up a list of exhibits from the Pamela Milne crime scene. ‘Shit, sorry, boss.’ He closed that and clicked again.

‘Centre on Skelmersdale,’ Gill said. ‘Now zoom out.’ Her eyes ran over the map, scanning routes and destinations that Cottam might choose. ‘Work up new projections,’ she said: ‘possible distance travelled, potential locations, other likely CCTV sources. And pass this through to patrols on the ground straight away. Yes?’

‘Yes, boss.’ He sat there, swivelling in his chair, pleased with himself.

‘Now!’ Gill said. ‘If not sooner.’

Which got him moving.

‘There’s someone downstairs for you,’ Pete said to Rachel.

‘Who?’

‘Don’t know. Desk just rang.’

‘Can’t you deal with it?’

‘Said they wanted to speak to you in person.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ Rachel pushed herself away from her desk and marched to the stairs.

If it was anything to do with the case they’d have been able to speak to anybody about it, so why her in person? What could it be about?

Nick Savage! The trial? They usually notified witnesses by letter, a couple of weeks beforehand. Gave them a chance to visit the court and have their hands held by the witness service volunteers. Of course she didn’t need any of that. Been in court enough times to know the ropes.

Or had Nick been mouthing off? Like a caged rat finding a weak spot to begin gnawing its way out from. That weak spot Rachel. Dobbing her in for lying in court so whoever was downstairs had come to arrest her. Shit! She could feel her heart burning in her chest, as though it was swelling like a bruise. Halfway down she thought she should have hidden in the Ladies, got Pete to say she was off duty, or had left for the day.

She passed Mitch on the way up. ‘Have one for me, Sherlock,’ he said. He was on the Nicorette.

‘Yeah, right,’ she said.

Sherlock, her nickname. It stung her, the thought of her colleagues finding out what she’d done. Not only in bed with the barrister but blabbing to him about her daily work, feeding him titbits. Titbits that came back and bit her in the jugular. Forcing her to lie in court. Bastard. Mouth dry now, sweating under her arms, and her hair clinging to the back of her neck where it was damp.

She reached the lobby. Just one person waiting there. A police constable. Suit and shiny buttons, cap in hand. Fuck! Rachel tempted for a split second to run. To scarper rather than stand meekly by while her career and her future were put to the slaughter. Forcing breath into her lungs, registering with some sick irony the poster on the wall behind him:
Have You Got What It Takes?
Did have, she thought, blew it. She stepped forward. ‘Rachel Bailey,’ she said, her voice sounding like she’d fallen down some well.