Mother Be The Judge (18 page)

Andrew watched Jocasta as she looked at Savannah's belongings. He hadn't spoken but she could tell that he was guarding the property, making sure Jocasta didn't touch his sister's precious memories.

"You miss her don't you?" Jocasta said. Andrew nodded and tears welled up in his eyes. He went to sit on his own bed, turning on the television and losing himself in SpongeBob Square pants; dismissing Jocasta from his attention. Jocasta left the room, she wanted to scoop Andrew up into her arms and tell him everything was going to be ok, but it wasn't and it never would be. Adrian had not just taken Savannah's life; he had taken the life of Andrew and the life of Mae also. Even if time did eventually heal their emotional wounds, neither Andrew nor Mae's life would ever be the same again. Mae had obviously pressed the self-destruct button and Jocasta knew it wouldn't be long before Andrew followed suit, influenced by the life he watched his mother lead. She made a promise to herself that she would keep an eye on the Wests and would help them out whenever she could. Maybe in some small way she would be able to help them to recover from their terrible loss.

Jocasta left the flat and made her way to the first on the list of Chemists she had to visit that day; now more determined than ever to keep Adrian at home and unable to cause any more harm to a living creature.

'God places the heaviest burden on those who can carry its weight.'

Reggie White

Jocasta stayed out for a lot longer then she had expected, her chance meeting with Mae and Andrew had taken a good two hours of her time and every chemist was about twenty minutes away from the next one. Add to that the waiting time and Jocasta had only managed to visit two chemists before realising she could do no more. It was imperative she kept Adrian under the influence of the Temazepam because even though she was certain Adrian would not suspect her of any wrongdoing; if Adrian was able to recover and was then re-drugged, Jocasta knew it was likely he would become suspicious. If Adrian began to refuse her cooking or medication she offered him, then Jocasta would have no means of keeping him home and in her mind that wasn't an option.

Still with the vision of Savannah's protected belongings on her mind, Jocasta went home and made a tomato soup. She didn't make it from scratch, her cooking skills were basic and soup was way out of her comfort zone. She stood and watched the soup bubbling, feeling quite hungry herself after all the walking and lying she had been doing. As the red bubbles popped and splattered, Jocasta had an overwhelming urge to take her own life. She imagined jumping into a big vat of burning soup and allowing the heat to envelope her, causing her to melt away along with all her problems. She hoped reincarnation was real; she would come back as a giant land tortoise and live a long, slow, pain free life; chewing on lettuce and occasionally humping rocks.

A sound from the hallway broke Jocasta out of her daydreaming; she turned to see Adrian stumbling down the hallway.

"Hello love, are you feeling better?" Jocasta asked him.

"Not really." Adrian said, "It's like I can't wake up."

"Sleep is the best thing when you're sick." Jocasta turned back to tend to the soup. "It's your body's way of healing itself." She told him.

"Yeah," Adrian agreed as he sat at the table, struggling to pull the chair out before he could get his rear on the seat. "I can't remember anything that happened yesterday, it's like I've lost a day of my life."

"Oh that's just..." Jocasta stopped herself from saying 'the side effect' as that would surely draw suspicion upon her. She knew then that what she was doing was ridiculous. She wondered how she could possibly keep up the constant dosage of Temazepam which would keep Adrian asleep or dopey enough to not want to leave the flat. She also wondered what would happen once the medicine ran out, but more than anything she felt a terrible guilt for causing harm to her son. As a mother she believed it was her job to protect Adrian from harm and she had tried to do that all of his life. Now she found herself protecting others
from
Adrian; this wasn't how life was supposed to be. She should be proud of Adrian and boasting of his achievements, not hiding him away in their flat, ashamed of what he had become.

"That's just because you've done nothing but sleep." Jocasta reasoned. She spooned the soup into two bowls and broke up some bread on a separate plate, then brought them to the table.

"I'll get you another Anadin." Jocasta told Adrian, "Have you still got a headache?"

"Yeah," Adrian's eyes were half closed as he spoke.

Jocasta went to the cupboard where she kept the Temazepam and broke another one out of its pack. She handed one to Adrian and gave him a glass of water; he took it without question and swallowed the small tablet along with a gulp of water.

Jocasta sat at the table and began to eat her soup.

"I saw Savannah's mother today." She told him. Adrian didn't seem to register the statement.

"She was in a terrible state, her house was a mess and she was almost comatose with drink." Jocasta continued to tell Adrian what had happened. She was aware Adrian was not really listening but she needed to tell someone what had happened. As she spoke, Adrian's head dropped lower and lower, he held his spoon mid-scoop and all motion stopped. Jocasta realised that he had fallen asleep. She shouted his name,

"Adrian."

He gave a slight shake of his head and looked up at her.

"Savannah was sweet." He said and smiled, "I enjoyed Savannah." Then his head dropped again. Jocasta was horrified to see the smile on Adrian's face when he spoke of Savannah. She could see that even in his drugged and confused state he had no remorse for what he had done and even seemed proud. Any misgivings which may have been forming whilst warming the soup quickly left Jocasta's mind. She knew she was doing the right thing, there was no way she could ever allow Adrian to get back out into the world; he was a danger to the young girls who might cross his path. When the medicine ran out, she decided, she would go to the doctors herself and pretend the symptoms of depression. Any medication she may be prescribed would go towards her efforts at restraining Adrian. Jocasta's heart was heavy at the prospect of the life which lay before her; a gatekeeper to a world of evil. The lamp that contained Aladdin's genie except this genie was evil and would be in no mood for granting wishes if he was ever set free from his living prison.

'A mother understands what her child does not say.'

Jewish proverb

24
th
May 2012

13:00 hours

"Arthur, we
have
to go to the police." Tiffany's mother, Susan, pleaded with her husband. "We haven't heard from her for two days.

Susan and Arthur sat in their front room. The room was immaculately furnished in IKEA flat-pack furniture; the effect was a plain but modern living environment. Susan had spent two years furnishing their home, putting a lot of effort into every detail, adding knick knacks and ornaments to every available space in an attempt to put her own stamp on the generic furniture. Photos of Tiffany adorned the sideboard and she smiled down at them as they sat on the sofa discussing where they might be.

"Her phone may have run out of battery." Arthur said to Susan. "Or she might just not want to talk to us anymore." Arthur ran a hand through his dishevelled hair. He looked extremely rumpled and out of place in such a tidy room. Susan was similarly dishevelled, neither parent being able to concentrate on personal hygiene or appearance when they were so worried about their missing daughter.

"Arthur, the police will help us. She is missing; we haven't seen her for
eight
days. It doesn't matter that she's been texting; that might not even be her."

Arthur looked at Susan, she had voiced a fear he had been harbouring but had not voiced for fear of making it true. "I know." His voice wavered as the emotion bubbled up inside him. "I know, I know, she could be..." his voice broke off; he couldn't bring himself to say aloud his darkest thought.

"Dead," Susan said it for him, "She could be dead."

Arthur reached for Susan and she crumpled into his embrace. Their tears mingled as once again their grief poured out. They had sat like this since Tiffany had not come home; confused by her disappearance and unsure of what they could do to convince her to return. Every text they had received had given them hope that Tiffany may be on her way home, only for Tiffany to scupper their hopes of reuniting. She would just say that she was fine, needed some space and would come home when she was ready. Two days ago, however, the texts had abruptly stopped. Susan had sent countless texts to Tiffany's phone since then, begging her for a reply, but to no avail.

Susan pulled herself out of Arthur's embrace. "Well I'm getting ready and I'm going to the police," she told him.

"Yes you're right," Arthur agreed, "We have to do something."

Susan and Arthur both went upstairs and showered, brushed their teeth and put on some smart clothes; even in grief their sense of self-respect would not allow them to go into the world looking unkempt. They left the house, setting the burglar alarm in their habitual way, then got into the family saloon and made their way to the police station.

-x-

14:00 hours

PC Tom Hunter was back in the station office. It was unusually quiet for two in the afternoon and Tom allowed his mind to ponder his situation at work. When he had joined the police force or 'service' as he had been conditioned to think of it, he had been certain that he was going to change the world. He had been a popular lad at school but found academia was not his strong point. Barely scraping through his exams, Tom had wondered where to go with his life as any notion of becoming a solicitor went out of the window when a series of D's were typed onto his grade sheets. Tom had decided the next best thing was to be a police officer; he was physically fit and able to answer basic maths and English tests. The money was good and he would be respected by his family and the community for following a path of righteousness rather than resorting to crime in order to line his pockets.

When he finally - two attempts at applying later - was welcomed into the service, he enjoyed his training and settled in well amongst like-minded individuals. When Tom left Hendon police training school, he was filled with a sense of power and with a determination to be the best thief taker the Met could spend its money on.

Reality was never as successful as imagination and Tom found that rather than becoming a Super Hero, fighting bad and saving the world, he had become a very small cog in a badly oiled machine which was wrapped very securely in reams of red tape. More often than not evil triumphed over good and justice was just a word saved for films and dreamers. Tom had begun his career keen, willing to believe a victim's story and sure that he would bring all criminals to justice. Since he had started as a police officer, he had been lied to countless times by victims and suspects alike, he had seen pathetic sentences handed out by Magistrates unwilling or frightened to use the full power of the law and had also watched smug criminals walk free from the court because either the Crown Prosecution Service had failed to build a case successfully or because the defence had managed to convince a jury there was a reasonable doubt. Now Tom just went through the daily motions of his role. He hadn't bothered to seek promotion or change into a detective; he enjoyed the camaraderie of his team and his ambition had been lost along with any hopes of becoming a solicitor. Every story he was given by victims was no longer met with belief and a desire to help but with cynicism and a desire to deflect any responsibility for investigations. Tom often offered to take the Station Officer role, it meant he could earn his money with no real threat of personal danger, would more than likely finish his shift when expected and would have access to as many teas and cheese sandwiches as his expanding waistline could handle.

The front door of the police station creaked open and Tom saw a middle aged, respectable looking couple walk into the reception area. Out of habit Tom looked the couple over and made a quick assessment of who they may be or what they could possible desire from the police. Tom decided the couple were married and their clothing suggested they were working class at the very least. He noticed the couples faces were not in keeping with their clothes; they both had heavy bags under tear laden eyes. He quickly assessed this was not someone producing documents; this couple had experienced something upsetting and needed a sympathetic ear rather than an officious policeman. Slipping easily into the role, Tom smiled kindly at the couple and began his investigation.

"Hello," he said. The couple offered reserved smiles. "How can I help you?" he enquired.

"It's our daughter," Arthur began, "She's run away."

"Ok," said Tom. "Come around to the other counter and I will take a report from you."

Arthur gave a sigh of relief. He had expected to be sent away and told there was nothing which could be done, but he was relieved to find a policeman who seemed willing to listen to their story and hopefully help them to get their daughter back.

Tom spent the next hour with Arthur and Susan, getting a full story of Tiffany's disappearance. He filled out a missing person's report and took a full description of Tiffany. Tom was now always mindful of Savannah West; when he had reported her missing his cynical mind had meant he did not put as much effort into the report as he should have done. When her body had been found, it was a stark reminder to him that for every hundred false or resolved reports there was always a possibility that one report would result in a dead child. Tom always ensured from that day on that he took every missing report seriously as he never wanted to feel the guilt he had felt at Savannah's death again.

Reassuring Arthur and Susan that the police would do everything they could to help them find Tiffany, Tom sent them home and asked them to wait for an officer to do the customary house search. He pressed the button on the computer which would send the missing person report to all concerned parties and then went to the control room to circulate Tiffany's description and to ask a police officer to visit the parent's address. Tom just hoped that this would be another girl found at a friend's, hiding from life and her parents. He hoped the police would be able to reunite the family and they could carry on their lives, resolving their problems. More than anything he hoped he was not once again the first point of contact to the parents of a murdered child.

-x-

Detective Inspector Todd 'Todger' Turnbull was sitting at his desk pouring over a two hundred and fifty six paged bank statement. He was investigating a bank's cashier who had been syphoning pennies off customer's bank accounts; amounts so small they would not arouse suspicion of theft. A yearly audit by an astute auditor however, had uncovered the theft and Todd was knee-deep in paperwork and bank manager.

He was grateful for the knock at his door which gave him an excuse to break away from the monotony of financial investigation. "Come in," he shouted and looked up to see Detective Sergeant Mary Webb come in the room.

"Ah here she is to brighten up my day." Todd said. Mary blushed, but got straight down to business.

"Just had a girl reported missing Guv."

"Talk to me." Todd said, dropping his pen on the desk and leaning back in his chair.

"Eleven year old girl; Tiffany Jones, she's been missing since the 16
th
May."

"What?" Todd sat upright, "Why have they taken so long to report her as missing?"

Mary held up a hand in supplication, "Wait Guv, hold on." Todd sat back again; he couldn't believe there was
any
good reason for parent's waiting
eight
days before reporting their eleven year old child missing.

"She's been texting them Guv." Mary said, "On the day she didn't come home, she text them to say she wasn't coming back."

"But she's
eleven.
" Todd was incredulous that the parents had just seemed to accept the child's text without making an effort to find her. He was aware that people never behaved in the way others considered correct. Thought patterns and circumstance often changed the way people behaved and it was not uncommon for victims to go to the police as a last resort instead of the first option, for fear of appearing weak or because they didn't want to air their dirty laundry in public.

"I know Guv." Mary flicked through the papers she held. "They have been texting her and she was replying, so they didn't think the police would be interested."

"So why have they reported it now?" He asked her.

"Well she stopped texting." Mary shrugged, "They haven't heard from her for two days. She's not replied to any texts or made any contact with them whatsoever. They came this morning; we've already sent an officer around to search their house."

"Ok so we've got an eleven year old who hasn't been seen for eight days and apparently had no contact for the last two." Todd knew the messages meant nothing. History had shown that mobile phones were often used by criminals to throw police off the scent and to twist the truth. Todd had a growing sense of realisation that Tiffany Jones could very well be the newest victim of the unknown killer of Savannah West. Or the victim of Adrian Brown if
his
suspicions were correct.

"Right Mary, you know what I want you to do, get a search going."

"Yes Guv."

"I want
everywhere
searched, starting with Elisworth's parks and definitely the allotments and that stream where Savannah West was found."

"Yes Guv. I've already called in the spare team."

"And ring the dog section," Todd added, "Do they have a cadaver dog yet?" Todd knew that there were now dogs trained to detect rotting flesh.

"They've got one, but it's based in North London." Mary said.

"I don't care if it's based in fucking Scotland, get it down here," said Todd. He knew that as Tiffany had been missing for probably eight days; they were more than likely looking for a corpse rather than a living, breathing child. Tiffany was cold, dead and alone somewhere waiting for Todd to find her and reunite her with her grieving parents.