Dead To Me

31

THE GUY FROM the Police Federation was on the phone; he wanted to offer Rachel support. Wanted her to be aware that if she was still suffering any mental or physical trauma as a result of the incident she could postpone meeting the IPCC. No one would think any the worse of her for it.

‘I’m fine,’ Rachel said, ignoring the cold cramps in her stomach and the sense of trepidation.

‘We can get a federation rep to be there, make sure your interests are protected.’

‘No, really, I’m fine,’ Rachel said. Didn’t they get it? Any delay would make it even worse.

Rachel had already written her account of Rosie’s suicide in her duty report. She had kept it pared back, plain and to the point. Leaving out any thoughts or feelings about the incident. Not relevant. Not helpful.

When the IPCC got there it was two blokes who spoke to her; they’d both been serving officers before moving to Complaints, which gave them an insight into the world they were monitoring. One of them was an old bloke with a lot of wild white facial hair but none on the top of his head. He had a gold tooth, which added to the pirate look he had going on. His name was Roger Harris. Roger. Really! Did they call him Jolly Roger? The other was a looker, reminded her of Nick, though his suit wasn’t quite up to par. Warm tone to his voice, but he didn’t smile a lot. Jonathan Buckingham.

‘You understand that you are being interviewed as a witness?’ Roger said.

‘Yes,’ Rachel said.

‘And you are happy to talk to us now?’

Delirious. Everyone’s concern, the kid-glove treatment, made it harder for her. She didn’t need comfort or tea and sympathy, just wanted to get on with it, get it over with. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’

‘Perhaps you could tell us in your own words…’ Who else’s am I going to use? ‘… what happened.’

‘I went to see Rosie Vaughan at Chapman Tower, New Moston, yesterday at half past eight in the evening,’ Rachel reeled off the facts. ‘I thought she might have some intelligence related to the murder of Lisa Finn. When I gained entry to her flat, Rosie was clearly mentally unsound. She threatened me with a knife in the hallway. I tried to persuade her to leave with me, offered to take her to hospital, but she became highly agitated. She was hallucinating and appeared to be psychotic. I followed her into the living room. She pushed me back into the hall at knifepoint, then ran out on to the balcony and jumped off.’ Rosie had been so frightened, riddled with terror. Whatever demons were fucking with her head were far more powerful than the urge for self-preservation. And if I hadn’t been there, would the demons have come anyway? Rachel knew such thoughts were pointless, didn’t stop them though. ‘I immediately went down to see if there was any chance to preserve life, but she was dead.’ Limbs twisted, her skull shattered, blood like a halo. ‘I summoned an ambulance and reported it to Division.’

Roger did most of the questioning, asking her to recall what Rosie said and exactly where the two of them had been during the exchanges. Jonathan took notes, the video camera blinked away in the corner. There was never a moment’s pressure or hostility. Rachel knew they were on her side and the protocol had to be followed in order to protect the reputation of the police.

Rachel’s throat hurt. She blinked. She would not fucking cry. There was no reason to cry. She held her eyes closed until she was sure the danger was past. Her voice went shaky, which was stupid, she hadn’t done anything wrong. Roger asked if she needed a break or a drink and she snapped at him: ‘What for? Let’s keep going.’

‘When Rosie ran to the balcony,’ Roger said, ‘what did you do?’

‘Ran after her.’ Should have caught her, skinny little druggie, should have got there easily, grabbed her, pulled her back.

At the end of the interview, Roger thanked her and said, ‘It must have been a harrowing experience for you, Rachel. Thank you for talking to us so honestly and openly. It can’t have been easy.’

She gave a jerky nod, her eyes stinging, anxious to get out of the room. Outside, she lit her cigarette, shivering in the cold, sniffing hard, sodding wind in her eyes. She just wanted the day to be done, but now she had to go and play nice at some poxy works disco or no doubt Godzilla would be on her back for lacking team spirit.