Evil Games (3 page)

‘I felt like I’d been dragged miles but it was only about fifty yards into the darkness of the graveyard at the top of the High Street.’

Alex noted that Ruth’s voice had become distant, clinical, as though reciting an event that had happened to someone else.

‘He stuffed a rag into my mouth and threw me to the ground. My head hit the side of a gravestone and blood ran down my cheek. At the time, he was reaching underneath me to unzip my jeans and all I could think about was the blood. There was so much of it. My jeans had been pulled down to my ankles. He put his foot onto my calf and put his weight on it. I tried to ignore the pain and push myself up. He kicked the right side of my head and then I heard his zip being pulled down and the rustle of his trousers.’

Ruth took a deep breath. ‘It was only then that I realised he was going to rape me. I tried to scream but the rag in my mouth muffled the sound.

‘He ripped off my backpack and then used his knee to spread my legs apart. He lowered himself onto me and thrust himself into my back passage. The pain was so horrendous I couldn’t breathe and the screams couldn’t get past the rag in my mouth. I lost consciousness a couple of times and each time I came back I prayed for death.’

Tears had started to roll down Ruth’s cheeks.

‘Go on.’

‘It seemed to go on for hours and then he was spent. He stood quickly, zipped himself up and bent down. He whispered into my ear, ‘Hope that was good for you, darlin’.’ He kicked me again in the head and was gone. I blacked out and only came to as I was being lifted into the ambulance.’

Alex reached across and squeezed Ruth’s hand. It was ice cold and trembling. Alex hadn’t been listening too closely. This needed to be moved on.

‘How long were you in hospital?’

‘Almost two weeks. The head injuries healed first; apparently head wounds bleed a lot. It was the other thing.’

Ruth was uncomfortable speaking about the other injury, but Alex needed Ruth to feel the pain and humiliation of it all.

‘How many stitches again?’

Ruth winced. ‘Eleven.’

Alex watched Ruth’s jaw grow firm as she recalled the horror in her own private hell.

‘Ruth, I can’t even begin to understand what you’ve been through and I’m sorry for causing you to have to relive it but it’s necessary for your long-term healing.’

Ruth nodded and fixed her with a look of total trust.

‘So, in your own words, what did this monster take from you?’

Ruth thought for a moment. ‘Light.’

‘Go on.’

‘Nothing is light anymore. I have this idea that before that night I viewed everything with light. The world was light, even a dull, thundery day was light, but now it seems that my vision has a filter, making everything darker.

‘Summer days are not as bright, jokes are not as funny, no motives are without agenda. My view of the world and everyone in it, even people I love, is changed for good.’

‘What prompted the suicide attempt?’

Ruth uncrossed and re-crossed her legs. ‘When I saw him I was in shock, initially. I couldn’t believe that he was out so soon, that justice had failed me so miserably, but it was more than that,’ she said, as though finally realising something she hadn’t explored before. ‘It was the realisation that I will never be free of the rage that’s inside me. Pure hatred runs in my veins – and it’s exhausting. I realised that he would always have that hold over me, and that there’s nothing I can do about it. It will only end when one of us dies.’

‘But why should that be you and not him?’

Ruth pondered. ‘Because there’s only one of those options I can control.’

Alex stared at her for a few seconds and then closed her notepad and placed it on the table. ‘Maybe not,’ she said thoughtfully, as though an idea had just occurred to her, when really it was what she’d been heading towards for their entire time together. ‘Would you be prepared to indulge me in an experiment?’

Ruth looked hesitant.

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’d like to try something that I think might help. I think we can give you some light back.’

‘Really?’ Ruth asked, pathetically, hoping for a damn miracle.

‘Absolutely.’ Alex sat forward, her elbows on her knees. ‘Before we start, I need you to understand that this is a visualisation and symbolic exercise.’

Ruth nodded.

‘Okay then, just stare forward and we’ll take a journey together. Put yourself outside the pub where he drinks, but you’re not a victim. You feel strong, confident, righteous. You are not dreading him leaving the pub, you are anticipating it. You have been waiting for this opportunity. You are not skulking in the shadows and you are not frightened.’

Ruth’s back straightened and her jaw inched forward slightly.

‘He exits the pub and you walk a few metres behind. You are not threatening, you are a lone female behind a grown man and you are not afraid. Your hand is wrapped around a knife in your coat pocket. You are confident and in control.’

Alex saw Ruth’s eyes drop to the letter opener, where they stayed. Perfect.

‘At the end of the road he turns into the alley. You wait for the perfect moment when there is no one else around and you speed up. You get within a couple of feet and you say, ‘Excuse me.’ He turns with a surprised expression and you ask if he has the right time.’

Ruth’s breathing had quickened at the thought of coming face to face with her attacker, even in the role play, but she swallowed hard and nodded.

‘As he lifts his wrist to check his watch you drive the knife into his stomach as hard as you can. Again you feel his flesh against yours but this time it is on your terms. He looks down in shock as you step backwards. He stares into your face and recognition dawns. Finally, he knows who you are. He recalls briefly that night as he falls to the ground. Blood stains his shirt and pools all around him. You step further away and watch the blood leaving his body and as it flows it takes with it any hold he has over you. You watch the blood puddle and you know that his control over you is gone. You reach down and take the knife. You take back your own control, your own destiny, your
light
.’

Ruth’s face was slack. Alex was tempted to offer her a cigarette.

She allowed a couple of minutes to pass before speaking.

‘Are you okay?’

Ruth nodded and tore her gaze away from the letter opener.

‘Do you feel any better?’

‘Surprisingly, yes.’

‘It’s a symbolic exercise that gives you a visual representation of taking back control of your own life.’

‘It felt good, almost like I feel cleansed,’ Ruth admitted with a wry smile. ‘Thank you.’

Alex patted Ruth’s hand. ‘I think that’s enough for today. Same time next week?’

Ruth nodded, thanked her again and left.

Alex closed the door behind her and laughed out loud.

FIVE

Kim strode into the station, her mind whirring from the phone call. There was a suspicion nagging at her stomach but she hoped she was wrong. Surely no one would be that stupid.

With more than 11,000 employees, West Midlands Police rated as the second largest in the country, second only to the Metropolitan Police in London. The force was responsible for Birmingham, Coventry, Wolverhampton and the Black Country.

Divided into ten Local Policing Units, Halesowen came under the Dudley LPU and was one of four police stations under the supervision of Chief Superintendent Young.

Halesowen wasn’t the largest station in the pack but Kim preferred it to any of the others.

‘What the hell happened?’ she asked the Custody Sergeant. He coloured instantly.

‘It’s Dunn. He’s had a little ummm … accident.’

Her suspicion had been correct – clearly someone
was
that stupid.

‘How bad an accident?’

‘Broken nose.’

‘Jesus, Frank, please tell me you’re testing the theory that I can’t take a joke?’

‘Certainly not, Marm.’

She swore under her breath. ‘Who?’

‘Two constables. Whiley and Jenks.’

She knew them both. They lived at opposite ends of the police force age range. Whiley had been a police officer for thirty-two years and Jenks for just three.

‘Where are they?’

‘Locker room, M—’

‘Call me Marm once more Frank and I swear …’

Kim left the words unsaid as she keyed herself into the station and turned left. Two PCSOs walked towards her. On seeing her expression, they parted like the Red Sea to let her through.

She stormed into the male locker room without knocking and followed the maze-like direction of the cabinets until she found her targets.

Whiley stood against an open locker, hands in his pockets. Jenks sat on the bench clutching his head.

‘What the hell were you two thinking?’ Kim cried.

Jenks looked up at Whiley before he looked at her. Whiley shrugged and looked away. The kid was on his own.

‘I’m sorry … I just couldn’t … I have a daughter … I just …’

Kim turned her full attention on Jenks. ‘So has half the damn team that worked night and day to catch the bastard.’ She took a step closer and leaned down, bringing her face closer to his. ‘Do you have any clue what you’ve done, what you’ve jeopardized?’ she spat.

Again he glanced at Whiley, who looked pained but did not meet Jenks’s gaze.

‘It happened so quickly. I don’t … oh God …’

‘Well, I hope it was bloody well worth it ’cos when his clever barrister gets him off due to police brutality it’s the only punishment he’s ever gonna get.’

Jenks’s hands cupped a shaking head.

‘He just fell …’ Whiley said, without conviction.

‘How many times?’

He closed the locker and looked away.

A vision of Leonard Dunn came to her. Him waving goodbye with a smile as he walked away from the courtroom. Free to abuse again.

Kim considered the hours of work her team had sunk into the case. None of them had needed to be told to disregard the rota. Even Dawson had been first to his desk on occasion.

As a group they worked on a variety of cases ranging from assault to sexual crimes to murder and every case became personal to one of them. But these two little girls had become personal to them all.

Dawson was father to a baby girl that had somehow wheedled herself into his limited affections. Bryant had a daughter in her late teens, and Kim herself … well, seven foster homes didn’t leave anyone without scars.

The case had never left them for a minute; in or out of work. Off-duty, the mind wandered to the fact that the girls were still trapped in that house with their so-called father, that every minute spent away from the office was a minute prolonged for two innocent lives. That had been more than enough incentive for the long hours.

Kim thought of the young teacher who had summoned the courage to report her suspicions to the authorities. She had risked her professional reputation and the derision of everyone around her but she’d been brave enough to do it anyway.

The possibility that it had all been for nothing was a wrecking ball to her stomach.

Kim looked from one constable to the other. Neither looked back.

‘Don’t either of you have anything to say for yourselves?’

Even to her own ears she sounded like a headmistress chastising a pair of schoolboys for putting a frog in her desk drawer.

Kim opened her mouth to say more, but even she couldn’t continue to shout in the face of such abject despair.

She gave them one last glowering look before turning on her heel and leaving the room.

‘Marm, marm … hang on a minute.’

She turned to see Whiley rushing towards her. Each one of his short grey hairs and inch to his waist had been accrued throughout his career in the police force.

She stopped and folded her arms.

‘I … I just wanted to explain.’ He nodded back towards the locker room. ‘He just couldn’t help himself, I tried to stop him but he was too quick. See, we went there once … a while back. It was a domestic disturbance and he’s beating himself up ’cos we saw ’em, you see. The little girls … huddled up on the sofa. I tried to explain that there’s no way we could’ve known … stopped it …’

Kim understood the frustration. But damn it, they’d had him.

‘What’ll happen to Jenks now? He’s a good officer.’

‘Good officers don’t beat up suspects, Whiley.’

Although she’d been tempted herself once or twice.

There was a part of her that wished every courtroom was fitted with a trapdoor that opened and released child abusers to a special place in hell.

Whiley dug his hands deeper into his pockets.

‘See … and I’ve got one week to retirement and …’

Aah, now she got it. What he really wanted to know was how the whole episode was going to affect him.

Kim thought about Dawson’s face when they had entered the cellar in Leonard Dunn’s house and the first DVD had paralysed them all. She pictured Bryant ringing his missus to cancel a trip to the theatre because he couldn’t leave his desk. She was reminded of Stacey’s frequent sniffing and trips to the bathroom. As the newest member of her team, the bright, young detective constable had been determined not to show the depth of her feelings to the rest of the team.

And now the case might not even get to bloody court.

She offered Whiley a shake of the head. ‘You know something, Constable; I really couldn’t care less.’

SIX

Satisfied after her session with Ruth, Alex stood before the framed certificates that her patients found so reassuring. The MBBS from the UCL Medical School, the MRCPsych, ST-4 and Certificate of Completion of Specialist Training represented the most arduous years of her education, not because of the hard work – her IQ of 131 had breezed her through that – it had been the tedium of the study and the sheer effort of not exposing the stupidity of her peers and professors.

By far the easiest qualification she’d achieved was the PhD in Psychiatry. The only certificate on her wall that her clients really understood.

Alex felt no pride in her paper achievements. There had been no doubt in her mind that she would reach her goals. Her qualifications were displayed for one reason only: trust.