Case One (15 page)

“You want us to come up to the flat with you?” he said, but with no apparent intention of doing so.

“No.”

“Okay. On your way then. And don't forget you'll have a court date coming up on that robbery charge.”

“I didn't do that neither,” Alford said.

“Course not,” Oz said.

The rear door was security locked and couldn't be opened from inside, so Sam got out and pulled the handle. When Alford climbed out he headed straight across the road towards the flats without a word.

“So what do you reckon?” Sam asked, getting back into the car.

Oz considered for a moment. “If he didn't do it this time we'll get him for something else in the end,” he said. “Sometimes you've got to play the long game. Although if he was smart he'd know that's how he could get away with it.”

“How do you mean?” Sam asked, puzzled.

“Cos if he was smart he'd think,
They're going to be waiting for me next time, so I'll be clever – I won't give them a next time.
– But he'd have to be smart and he's not: see? Straight back in.”

Oz gestured and, in the light of a street lamp on the far side of the road, Sam saw three teenage lads appear from beneath a concrete walkway and head towards Alford. One was distinctly bigger than the others, with blond hair. Sam squinted.

“I think that's the one who attacked Charlie Atkins,” he said. “The one on the right – blond.”

Oz looked, then pulled the car round a little way, flicking the headlights on to full beam so they illuminated the three youths.

“Yeah, that's definitely him,” Sam said.

“Tyler Smith,” Oz said. “Okay, that figures.”

In the headlights Alford and the others shielded their eyes for a moment, then Alford gestured for them to move. Together they disappeared from sight amongst the shadows of the concrete columns.

“You don't want to pick him up?” Sam asked.

“No, we'll get back,” Oz said, checking the wing mirror, then pulling out onto the road. “It'll be knock-off by the time we get there. Like I said: play the long game. Same as you and Bob Mulvey.”

“What?”

Oz gave him a canny glance. “He was pretty pleased with himself last night, finding the scene of crime.”

Instinctively Sam opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again.

“Right,” Oz said shrewdly. “That's what I thought.”

“Did Holly tell you?”

Oz shook his head. “I know Mulvey,” he said, as if that explained everything.

25

“They talked to any of you?” Alford said, looking round the others suspiciously.

Standing in a half circle by the fence around the recreation area they all shook their heads: Tyler, Skank, Rizza.

“Yeah? Well someone's tried to drop me in it,” Alford said, unconvinced.

“What did they want to know?” Skank asked.

“Where I was, what I was doing.” Alford looked round the others again, gauging their reactions. “So you know what you say if they come back, right? All of us were down Jak's offie, like I told you last night.”

More nods, but this time Alford caught a slight distraction from Tyler.

“What?” he said, zeroing in on the larger boy.

“What? Nothing,” Tyler said, but there was an unmistakeable unease in the way he shifted from one foot to the other.

“You talked to them?” Alford said.

“Fuck off. No.”

Alford eyed him suspiciously. He knew there was something Tyler was holding back, but before he could take it further Rizza cut in.

“So how come they reckon it's you – you know, raped whatshername – Ashleigh?”

Alford rounded on him swiftly. “They don't think it now cos it wasn't,” he said sharply. “They know I never touched her. It was all bollocks and anyone says it was me again they're gonna get fucking done. Anyone. Right?”

Rizza nodded briskly to show he understood. No one was going to give Drew an excuse to kick off when he was in a mood like this – not even Tyler would risk that.

“Okay,” Alford said, as if he was finally satisfied. “Anyway, she wouldn't know what to do with it if you put it in her hand. I wouldn't waste my time on it.”

“I would,” Skank said with a leer, and then he yelped as Alford's fist hit his ear.

“What the fuck! What you do that for?” His voice was a whine.

“Cos you're a fucking dickhead,” Alford said. “You wanna get pulled in an' all cos someone says they heard you saying something like that? Have some fuckin' sense.”

He pushed Skank in the chest and made him stagger backwards, then immediately turned and moved away from the fence.

“Where we going?” Rizza asked.

“Find Madder,” Alford said. “I need a smoke.”

26.

Danny Simmons drove in silence and made no attempt to get Holly to talk. She was glad about that because she wasn't sure what they'd talk about if it wasn't the case, and she didn't want to talk about that because – well – there was nothing to talk about now.

Outside the Section House Danny brought the car to a stop but left the engine running.

“There you go then,” he said, giving the place the once-over through the window, then turning back to her.

“Thanks.” Holly reached round and undid her seat belt.

“It goes that way sometimes,” Danny said. “You think you've got it sorted and it all comes apart.”

Holly knew he meant it as consolation so she nodded. “Thanks for letting me sit in,” she said. “I learned a lot.”

“Listen,” Danny said, “it's Saturday night. You're off duty. Get a movie out, have a pizza, think about something else.”

“What're you going to do?”

As soon as she said it Holly realised it had come out sounding halfway between an invitation and a request, which was not what she'd intended – even if it was how she felt.

“I mean, are you getting poached salmon with the DI as well?” she said, trying to cover.

“Me? Nah,” Danny said, apparently oblivious. “Wouldn't want to either. From what I hear, she's a crap cook. I mean,
really
crap. Ray has to go though – the DI's his sister-in-law.”

“What? Really?”

“Yep.”

“Harsh.”

“Oh yeah,” Danny said with a grin. “I'll see you later, okay?”

“Yeah,” Holly said, returning the smile, then reaching for the door handle. “Thanks, Danny.”

She stood on the pavement for a moment as his car pulled away, then saw Sam coming along the road towards the Section House. He was carrying his sports bag, his free hand shoved in his pocket.

“Who was that?” he said, gesturing after the car.

“Danny – DC Simmons.”

“Oh. Right. You must be well in.”

“It was just a lift,” Holly said, suddenly irritated by the insinuation, and by the fact that he'd got it so wrong.

“Okay,” Sam said with a shrug. “So what happened with Alford? Didn't he do it?”

“No. Yes. Sort of.”

“What do you mean, ‘sort of'?”

“Not now, eh?” Holly said. “I'm really tired.”

“Okay, I was just asking.” Sam swung his bag and moved towards the house.

Behind him Holly waited a moment, then pulled a breath before calling after him. “Sam, hold on – listen. You want to walk down the road for a pizza? I need to eat.”

“Are you buying?”

“I bought yesterday and you still owe me.”

“How much?”

“Two seventy.”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

The pizza place at the end of the road was brightly lit and more of a takeaway than a restaurant. There were three steel tables in the window where you could eat, though – if you didn't mind the draught from the coming and going of the delivery drivers.

Holly didn't. She just wanted to eat the pizza while it was hot, straight out of the box. But after only one mouthful she knew pizza wasn't really what she needed. She needed to say what was burning her up, even if Sam probably wasn't the ideal person to say it to.

“I just got a bollocking from the DI,” she told him. “Connors.”

“Why?” Sam looked surprised. “I thought—” he stopped himself.

“What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing – why?” he repeated.

“She reckoned I was trying to blag my way onto the enquiry – I mean into CID – because I didn't want to be on the cordon or something. She said I was trying to take a short cut, which I wasn't. Then she made a crack about them not needing a mascot.”

She looked at him to see what his reaction was going to be, half prepared for some smart remark. Instead she became aware there was something different about the way he was looking at her.

“What?” she said.

“What?” Then he frowned. “But
you
got them the lead on Alford, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So she should give you the credit.”

“No chance with Connors,” Holly said flatly. “She thinks TPOs are a waste of time.”

“Sounds like she's related to Mulvey.”

“Yeah, maybe. I don't really care about that, though. Well, I do but— It's just that they're all writing the case off: NFA. Nothing we can do, so drop it.”

“But if the DNA proves Alford didn't rape Ashleigh—”

“He
tried
though. I'm sure of it. And that's why she ran under that truck. He's responsible for what happened to her but he's going to get away with it.”

Sam nodded. It wasn't hard to see that Holly was genuinely frustrated by the injustice of it all, and he could understand that.

“Oz said something earlier, when we took Alford back to the estate,” Sam told her. “He said he wasn't smart enough to keep out of trouble. He reckons we'll get him for something else – just a matter of time.”

“Maybe,” Holly said. Then she finally voiced what was really bugging her. “But even if you forget Alford it's still not sorted, is it? I mean, about what happened to Ashleigh.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone says she was quiet, didn't have many friends and wasn't into boys yet – she didn't even fancy anyone. But she'd had sex with
someone
before she was knocked down. So how's it fit? What
really
happened? Cos I don't think it's as simple as they're making out. I think there's something else going on.”

“You could ask her when she comes round,” Sam suggested. “That way you'd know.”

Holly pursed her lips grimly. “You mean
if
she comes round,” she said.

SUNDAY

1.

CUSTODY SUITE
MORNINGSTAR RD STATION
09:32 HRS

It wasn't true about there always being carrots in vomit. More often it was chunks of dodgy kebabs or yellow curry, especially on a Sunday morning after the Saturday night before. The drunks who'd been banged up the previous evening were given just long enough to sober up, then they were either charged or simply shown the door and left blinking in the cold morning light, trying to remember why drinking so much had seemed like fun.

As she mopped the floor of her third cell that morning Holly was glad of the smell of disinfectant, and that she had something to take her mind off what she was doing. The puzzle of what had really happened to Ashleigh Jarvis had been going round in her head when she'd woken up, and it was still there, still without an answer.

Once she'd finished cleaning up Holly put the mop and bucket back in the stores and went through into Custody where Sergeant Stafford was at the desk. He glanced up when she appeared, then gave her a knowing look. “Suppose you'll want refs now,” he said, dryly. “Burger and chips, sausage and egg?”

“Think I might wait a bit if that's okay, Sarge,” Holly said. “Is it all right if I go and wash my hands?”

“Yeah, we'll be quiet enough for a while now. When you've done that you can get some fresh air. Your pal Dr Scobie didn't give a statement about Ashleigh on Friday so you can go down to the Vic and get it now.”

“Was that my fault?” Holly asked, hoping it wasn't.

“No, you're in the clear. It just got missed because he went off duty.”

“Oh. Right. Good – I mean, I'm glad it wasn't me.”

Stafford gave her a narrow-eyed look and Holly cursed herself for saying what she'd been thinking.

“I didn't get chance to ask you about working with CID yesterday,” Stafford said. “How did that go?”

“It was fine, Sarge,” Holly said. “Really interesting.”

“
Just
interesting?”

“Yes, Sarge.”

Stafford studied her for a moment longer, as if he knew exactly what she wasn't saying. Finally he just nodded.

“Okay, since you're going out there's a bag of Ashleigh Jarvis's personal effects to go back to her mother. You can collect it from Property then call to find out where Mrs Jarvis is – with any luck she'll be at the Vic too. Blag a lift with someone so it doesn't take all day.”

“Yes, Sarge.” She started to move off.

“Holly.”

“Sarge?”

“A pearl of wisdom: decent coppers care about the victims; objective coppers catch villains. The best ones do both – get it?”

Holly thought about it, then nodded because she did. “So which are you, Sarge?”

“Me?” Stafford shook his head. “I'm an
old
copper. We're all bitter and twisted, so we don't count.”

2

Ryan Atkins had his own routine for Sunday mornings, and part of it was staying out of the way until he heard the door close when Charlie and his dad left for church. By not showing his face he didn't give his father any opportunity to try and badger him into going with them. It was easier than having the same old confrontation all over again:

“Come to church.”