Eeny Meeny

59

Charlie made it to Bevois Valley in fifteen minutes flat. They could have done it in ten with the blues and twos on, but that was out of the question. They didn’t want to spook Mickery. DC Grounds had been left to babysit a deeply pissed-off Martha Reeves – they couldn’t discount the possibility that she would contact Mickery to warn her.

A description had gone out to uniform on the beat and Charlie immediately set about coordinating the efforts. Bevois Valley is a shabby collection of low-rent supermarkets, industrial estates and depots. It’s a small place and many of the local cops are on nodding terms with the hookers and junkies who also make it their home, taking advantage of the numerous squats and abandoned houses that disfigure the streets. News can travel surprisingly fast in this enclosed community and the word was out. A good tipoff now could break the case. Could they catch Mickery in the act? Charlie felt her pulse quicken – the thrill of the chase never failed to get her heart racing. But there was more this time. This was personal – she wouldn’t let Mickery escape her twice.

Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen. And still no sign. In and out of the garages and bodyshops. The supermarkets and minicab offices. But everywhere the same – a look at the photo and a polite shake of the head.

Then a disturbance in the street. Calls for help. A woman lying prostrate on the ground. Charlie covered the distance in seconds to find a young woman in a very bad way. Crazed eyes, blood streaming from cuts on her face. But nothing to do with her. A pissed-up local girl on the receiving end of her violent boyfriend’s displeasure. As uniform led the protesting offender away, Charlie returned to the hunt.

Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes. And still radio silence. Charlie cursed her luck. What was it with this woman that she could disappear into thin air? She was sure Reeves wasn’t lying to her about the location – she’d had to wrench the information out of her – so where the hell was she? She’d give it another thirty minutes, maybe more. Something had to turn up.

It started to rain. Gently at first, then big heavy drops, then a sudden attack of hail. As the ice bounced off Charlie’s sodden hair, she cursed her luck. But things were about to get a lot worse.

‘Call off the search.’

Charlie spun round. Helen had arrived. And she didn’t look happy.

They didn’t speak on their way back to the police station. No explanation about why the search had been called off, nor the expected admonishment for losing the prime suspect (twice). Charlie didn’t know what was going on and she didn’t like it. For the first time in her life she realized what it felt like to be picked up by the police. To be a suspect. Charlie desperately wanted to talk, to dispel her nervousness and find out what was going on. But that clearly wasn’t an option. So she sat and suffered in silence imagining a thousand dark scenarios.

They walked through the nick in silence. Helen commandeered an interview room and switched off her mobile. The two women stared at each other.

‘Why did you become a police officer, Charlie?’

Fuck, it was bad. If that was the opening question, she clearly was in deep.

‘To do my bit. Catch the bad guys.’

‘And do you think you’re a good police officer?’

‘Of course.’

A long silence, then:

‘Tell me about Hannah Mickery. And how you let her go.’

Charlie wasn’t going to rise to that one. Whatever was thrown at her, she must keep calm. Everything could depend on that. So Charlie told her about how Hannah had outwitted her. About how they had lost her. No point dressing things up when she was clearly already in serious trouble.

‘How long have you known Hannah Mickery?’

‘Known?’

‘How long?’

‘I don’t know her. We picked her up, interviewed her, dug around her computer… that’s it. I know her as well as you do.’

More silence.

‘Are you excited by her crimes?’

This was getting weirder all the time.

‘Of course not. These crimes are despicable. Abhorrent. If Mickery’s guilty then I hope they throw away the key.’

‘We’ll have to find her first.’

Low. But probably deserved. Charlie had messed up with Mickery, no doubt about that. Would there be more deaths? And would they be on her conscience this time?

‘What did you feel when you heard Peter Brightston had killed himself?’

‘What did I “feel”?’

‘Did you think he was weak?’

‘No. Of course not. I felt sorry for the guy. We should all have done mo-’

‘And what about Anna and Marie? Did you feel sorry for them? Or did they deserve it. They were definitely weak. What did the local lads call them? Mongs?’

‘NO. ABSOLUTELY NOT. No one deserves to die like that. And with the greatest of respect -’

‘Do you need money, Charlie? Are you in debt?’

‘No.’

‘Need a bigger house? Better car?’

‘No. I don’t need more money.’

‘Everyone needs money, Charlie. What makes you different? Do you gamble? Drink? Borrow money from the wrong people?’

‘No! A hundred times no.’

‘Then why did you do it?’

Battered, Charlie finally looked up.

‘Do what?’

‘If you tell me now, I can help you.’

‘Please, I don’t know what you want me to say -’

‘I don’t pretend to understand why you let her use you like this. Best-case scenario she had something on you. Worst case you’re as twisted as she is. But understand this, Charlie, if you don’t tell me the truth now – every last detail – then you will go to prison for the rest of your life. Do you know what happens to bent coppers in jail?’

And at once it all fitted into place.

‘I didn’t do it.’

Silence.

‘I know you think someone is helping her. Someone from this station. Someone from the team. But it isn’t me.’

‘But I already know it’s you.’

‘You can’t. I have an alibi. You know I have an alibi. Yes, I was in the nick, but I was talking to Jackie Tyler in Missing Persons at that time. I was there for forty minutes at least going through couples who’d gone missing -’

‘She says you weren’t.’

‘No, no, no, that’s wrong. She made a statement saying -’

‘She’s retracted it. She got the timings wrong.’

A heavy, bewildered silence. For the first time, tears sprang to Charlie’s eyes. Helen continued:

‘She didn’t think it was important at first, but she now remembers that it was early afternoon that you came to her -’

‘No, no, she’s lying. I was there, I did spend that time with her, I can tell you the name of every couple we went thr-’

‘You’ve let me down, Charlie. And betrayed us all. If you had a shred of decency or honesty about you, I could have helped you, but it’s in the hands of Anti-Corruption now. They will be here in five minutes, so get your story straight -’

Charlie’s hand shot out and grabbed Helen’s.

‘It’s not me.’

A long beat.

‘I know you don’t like me. I know you don’t rate me. But I swear it isn’t me. I…’

Now the tears were coming thick and fast.

‘I would never… I couldn’t. How could you think I would ever do something like that?’

Said with fierce passion. Then she broke down – deep, guttural sobs.

‘It’s not me.’

Helen watched her, then:

‘It’s ok, Charlie. I believe you.’

Charlie looked up, disbelieving.

‘But…’

‘Anti-Corruption aren’t coming. And Jackie never retracted her statement – she’s given you a cast-iron alibi. I’m sorry it had to be this way, but I’ve got no other choice. I need to know who’s doing this.’

‘So?’

‘You’re in the clear, Charlie. Nobody need ever know we’ve had this conversation and it won’t be on your sheet. Get yourself cleaned up and get back to work.’

And with that, she was gone. Charlie buried her head in her hands. Relief and exhaustion mingled with disgust – she had never disliked Helen Grace as much as she did at this moment.

Outside, Helen took a breath. She felt sick to the stomach. Not for what she had put Charlie through, but for what her innocence meant. There was only one possible culprit left now – Mark.