Little Boy Blue

10

Helen stumbled up the stairs, her hand clamped over her mouth. She could feel the vomit rising in her throat and she needed to be away from this underground hell. The green exit light could be glimpsed up ahead and she took the final steps at speed, barrelling through the exit and out into the night.

Ignoring the startled looks of the uniformed officers on guard, Helen hurried over to the chain link fence that bordered the club and clung on to it. Her breath was short, her heart was racing and the waves of nausea just kept coming. She gulped in huge lungfuls of air, desperate to avoid drawing attention to herself, but to no avail. She vomited now, hard and loud, her stomach cramping over and over again until there was nothing left inside.

Nobody made a move to help her, so Helen remained staring at the ground, empty and drained. It couldn’t be Jake. A small part of her was tempted to return to the crime scene, to prove to herself that she’d made a stupid mistake. But in her heart she knew it was him. His face was distinctive and familiar and, besides, the tattoo on his neck sealed it. The man whose company she’d paid for on numerous occasions over the years, who’d beaten her dark introspection from her many times during their S &M sessions, was dead. Jake was the only person who knew the real Helen, and his sudden death left her feeling disoriented and confused.

The last time she’d seen him he was happy and settled. He was dating a new boyfriend, had relinquished his crush on Helen and seemed to be making a decent fist of his life. What had gone so terribly wrong that he had ended up here, in an after-hours club, falling into the clutches of a brutal and pitiless killer? Helen would have given anything to be able to turn back time, to step into that small room as Jake was being attacked and drag his assailant away.

‘Are you ok?’

Helen looked up to find Charlie standing nearby, framed by the darkness. No one else would have spoken to her so informally or with such affection and it knocked the stuffing out of her now. Normally she would have blustered a response and sent them away, but she and Charlie had been through too much together for her to be dismissed like that. A large part of Helen wanted to blurt out that she knew the victim, that he was a friend. But as she opened her mouth to speak, her tongue refused to obey.

‘What is it, Helen? What’s wrong?’ Charlie persisted.

Still Helen said nothing. To admit that she knew the victim would mean confessing how they met. Instantly she recoiled from this – she didn’t want to offer Jake up to them like this – and, besides, how could she look any of her colleagues in the eye once the details of her private life were laid bare? She’d be a laughing stock, the butt of endless ribald jokes, but more than that they would know. Her sessions with Jake had always been private, discreet and special – a space where she could reveal her historic wounds and confront her feelings of guilt. If she opened herself up like that she’d be exposed, humiliated and in all likelihood taken off the case – and that was something that Helen was not prepared to countenance.

‘I’m fine. It was just a shock,’ Helen replied, straightening up.

‘Not a pretty sight, was he? If you want me to handle this -’

‘It’s ok. I’m good now,’ Helen said quickly. ‘Let’s get it over with, shall we?’

Her jaunty tone sounded forced, but Charlie didn’t comment. So swallowing down another wave of nausea and putting her best foot forward, Helen walked back towards the club’s gaping entrance to perform her grim duty.