The Treatment

Twenty-nine.

(27 July)

Tracey Lamb had to go to the Narey hearing that morning but she didn't want to come back and find Steven had made another mess in the caravan. "Come on." She put down some bits and pieces on the bunk, some Cokes, some Caramel bars, some biscuits. "Come and sit down here and we'll play a game."

The chocolate and the idea of a game cheered him up. He sat down on the bed, on top of his tangled sleeping-bag, and started to rock back and forward, grinning, showing the gaps in his teeth where they'd rotted from too many sweets. "Gaaayhb. Gaaayb."

"That's it. Now give me your hands."

He held them out, delighted that Tracey was paying him attention.

"Good. Now keep still, while I…" She used the electric flex to fasten his hands together. "Good." She reached around his back to pass it behind him and slowly wound it around his body. She kept things light, laughing and poking him in the ribs to keep him smiling. "Come on this is fun. See, what the game is, is that Tracey ain't all that good at tying Steven up -see? Steven can always get out, can't he?"

"Yeeeeth." He nodded, grinning. "Yeth." He stared in rapt attention as she tightened the electric flex so that one arm was fastened at his side. She stood and fed the remaining lead first around the handles of the cupboards, then around the window catches and the base of the table. Now he could move around in a circle of only about two or three feet. He could reach the sink but he couldn't reach the windows or the door or do any harm.

"There." She stood back, wiping her hands on her leggings. "Now, I bet Steven can get out of that I bet Steven's too clever for Tracey, ain't he?"

"Ye-ehth!"

"Let's see, then. Let's see him get out of that." "Kay, 'kay." He grinned, rocking back and forward, his eyes rolling in his head. He struggled and writhed, the flex becoming tighter around his hands until the flesh bulged and the veins in his neck stood up. Tracey folded her arms and watched, her head on one side. Yeah get out of that you little shit.

Then suddenly he was free. He jerked forward, arms flailing like a baby trying to get out of his high chair, a big rotten-toothed grin. "Dud id!"

Oh, you fucking piece of shit. She kicked the bottom of the table. "Yeah you done it, didn't you?" "Gain, 'gain."

"OK again. We'll try again." "Kay 'kay." He jolted forward, excited. "Gaaaybb!"

"But this time," she pushed his hands back in his lap, 'this time Tracey's going to try harder."

This time she used a second piece of flex and an oily towrope from the boot of the Datsun. She left one of Steven's hands free but this time, although he struggled for ten minutes, while she stood at the door and watched with a cool smile, he couldn't get out. Eventually, trussed up on the bunk like a Christmas turkey, he looked up at her and grinned. He was out of breath but he was thrilled that the game was going so well.

"Well done." Tracey nudged the slop bucket towards him with her toe. "Right. I ain't going to be long. I'll be back this afternoon. And then, if you've been good," she put her face near his and grinned, 'if you've been good, maybe you'll meet someone special."

"On your list number 103, number seven, sir." The list caller allowed the district judge to find the case on his list. "This is Ms Tracey Jayne Lamb. Kelly Alvarez is representing."

Bury St. Edmunds' combined crown and magistrates' courts were housed in a high-vaulted red-brick building tucked away behind the grounds of the ruined abbey. The interior was full of wood veneer and wall-to-wall carpeting. Kelly Alvarez, dressed in a slightly scruffy off-white suit and a red silk blouse, sat on the defence side of the big bench, directly under the huge central atrium. To her right, in the dock, Tracey Lamb stood patiently, clutching her sputum cup and chewing a ball of strawberry bubble-gum.

The clerk read out the charges. "Tracey Jayne Lamb, you are charged with conspiracy to commit an act of indecent assault with others unknown, contrary to common law."

The district judge frowned at Lamb as if he hadn't noticed her in the dock and now was slightly offended to see her as if she had just walked in unannounced.

"Miss Lamb." He took off his glasses, pressed his hands flat on the desk and sat forward in the high-backed leather chair. "You understand that this is a very serious offence and it can't be tried here. We're here today only to set a date for a transfer hearing and talk about bail."

Lamb gave him a sarcastic smile as if he was asking her whether she knew the alphabet. "Ye-es." She pushed the gum into the corner of her mouth, spat a gobbet of phlegm into the cup, and straightened up, allowing herself a small smile. "I know."

"Right." He closed his eyes in disgust and turned back to the CPS solicitor. "You've said you won't oppose bail?"

"That's right."

"Are you sure you don't want to oppose?"

"Yes, I'm quite sure."

"You know I have the right to overrule that decision."

"Yes-I '

"Good." He tapped his pen loudly. "Because I think that's what I might well do."

"Sir." Alvarez half stood, accidentally knocking a pen off the table. "Sir, it's important to recognize that this offence is very old, there's no evidence that the defendant is still in contact with the victim."

Tracey chewed a little harder, narrowing her attention on the district judge. No one had said she might not get bail. She hadn't even thought about it. Now the CPS solicitor was standing, nodding at the judge. "That's common ground, sir, we agree with the defence."

"And," Alvarez pushed her hair behind her ears, 'the defendant has no of fences for the last eight years. Miss Lamb was given police bail and appeared on time today for the Narey hearing. There is absolutely nothing to suggest that she might fail to appear. Um…" She scanned the papers in the Narey bundle. "She has been living in the same place for thirty years, and the alleged offence took place over twelve years ago. And my learned friend, the prosecution, has already indicated that he won't be obstructing or asking for conditions."

"Just a moment, just a moment." The judge scratched his head. This is a very serious offence we're talking about. This isn't a shop-lifting charge. We need to think about it very carefully."

"Sir," Alvarez interrupted, 'leave to speak to my client?"

"Oh, well." He threw his pen on the bench and leaned back, one elbow on the arm of the ornate chair. "I suppose so." He flapped a hand at her. "Go on. Go on."

At the dock Alvarez stood slightly angled away from him, one hand resting on the handrail. She looked up at Lamb with bulging eyes. "I want to offer him some security," she whispered. "Do you know anyone who could put forward something '

"I thought you said I was going to be out of here."

"You are, you are, I just didn't expect this." She bit her lip. "And look at the prosecution they didn't expect it either. Now, I need something to offer him. Do you have someone who could put some money down on your be '

"No, I fucking haven't." This was all wrong. If she wasn't bailed then Steven… he'll get out of that rope won't he? Won't he get out? But when she thought about him tugging at the flex, chewing it madly, she knew there was a chance he wouldn't. "You never said I wasn't going to be out of here."

Alvarez lowered her eyes and rubbed the bridge of her nose. "Tracey, just think, please is there anyone who '

"Miss Alvarez?" The judge was getting impatient.

"Yes, sir, I'm just trying to establish if I can offer any security." She turned back to Tracey, her head bent closer. "Are you sure you can't '

"No. I just said no."

"Miss Alvarez, I don't know if anyone will be able to offer your client security, but it's academic anyway." He cleared his throat, pressing his fingers to his lips. "Because I have a feeling that Miss Lamb I have a feeling she might be tempted not to turn up for the next hearing."

"That ain't true '

"Sir!" Alvarez went quickly back to the bench. "Sir, the defendant came to court today, sir. She was perfectly aware of the seriousness of the charges, and yet she still came to court. I'm sure Miss Lamb would comply with any conditions you'd like to impose. She would be prepared to report at such times as you think appropriate. She would keep residence at her home address."

"Look," the district judge shook his head regretfully, 'it's not for me to teach you your jobs, but this is a serious offence." He shook a biro in Lamb's direction. "She's got previous convictions."

"Yes, but not related to this."

"She knows the length of sentence…" He waited for Alvarez to subside. "She knows the length of sentence were she found guilty, so." The judge made a note in the court register, leaned over to murmur something to the justice's clerk, then looked up at the court again. "So no. No." He ratcheted his body round until he was facing Lamb. "None of the conditions you could offer me would suffice. So, Miss Lamb, stand up, if you would."

She stood, eyes narrowed bitterly, chewing the gum, hating him.

"I've told you that I can't deal with this case here, and because of the nature of the case and the witnesses who might be called, I think it's safest to transfer the proceedings to somewhere where they can give video evidence if need be do you understand?" He didn't wait for her to answer. "In the meantime, because I feel there's a serious risk you might simply decide not to return to court, I'm going to remand you in custody. You can come back and see us here one week from today that's the third and we'll have another look at the situation. Thank you." He turned back to the court clerk and raised his eyebrows. "Shall we continue?"

Morning. Her arms were weak as water and there was something new: a strange wavering of the air as if the room was splitting in two. In the night Smurf had vomited up something that looked like coffee grounds in water and when Benedicte saw the flat eyes, the crusty mucus around Smurf's mouth, she knew. She put an arm around the dear old neck and pressed her lips against the ear. "Smurf, I am so sorry."

Benedicte had found Smurf twelve years ago as a shiny puppy at Battersea Dogs' Home and brought her home on a red canvas lead. She had danced around her ankles at the bus stop, rear end fishtailing from side to side with excitement, claws ticker-tackering on the pavement. Smurf made washing day hell. Every pair of socks disappeared. She liked to doggy-paddle in the sea with Josh when they went to Cornwall and since they weren't sure when she was born they gave her Valentine's Day for her official birthday. Now there was ammonia on her breath and her breathing was laboured, her lips puffing out with each breath.

"I love you, old Smurf." She lay next to the dog, and pressed her face against the velvety head, feeling the eye blink, the soft rusty smell of the fur, the rasp of the greying muzzle hairs. She kissed the dog once, just under the ear where the skin was soft and Smurf shifted slightly, sighed. She half lifted her tail and dropped a thin paw on Benedicte's bare foot.

There is no point in trying, at the end is only evil, no matter what you do, no matter how hard you work, you can't build a wall strong enough…

When she looked up, half a minute later, Smurf had stopped breathing.

Caffery woke early, before he meant to, with Alek Peach's face in his head. Rebecca was next to him, asleep. He rested his head on his arm and watched her breathing in and out, her little pixie face quite smooth and untroubled, thinking about last night and wondering if he should wake her and do it all over again. But Peach's face came back suddenly, and when he couldn't fade it or get rid of it he rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom.

Something unspeakable had happened at number thirty Donegal Crescent, and he was starting to think that Alek was the primary living victim. He forced it along his mind as he showered, had coffee, ironed a shirt. Rebecca was still asleep when he left. He didn't wake her, and regretted not kissing her all the way to Shrivemoor, but by the time he got to the incident room, it was still Alek he was thinking about.

He went through the two DCs' statements from yesterday and set their parameters for day two. "Call me for anything, OK? Absolutely anything." When they had gone he asked Kryotos to chivvy up General Registry with Peach's paper record. She had it by 11 a.m. "You ready for this?" She sat down in the SIO's room, the docket on her lap. She looked astonishingly healthy that morning, as if all the light in the room was reflecting from her skin. It made him feel even more tired. "I found out who the victim of his indecent assault was."

"Go on, then."

" Carmel Regan. His wife. She was two days short of her thirteenth birthday and he was nineteen. Her dad didn't like it, obviously, and shopped Peach. They stuck together even while he was doing time. And something else."

"Oh, God."

"Quinn got some preliminary results from the stuff in the attic'

"And?"

"They don't match Peach's profile."

"Yup. Thought that's what you were going to say." Caffery laced his hands together, rolled his head from side to side as if to get rid of a neck crick. "God," he said, after a while, scratching his neck. "Damn and fuck, Marilyn. I can't believe this is happening the wheel's coming off."

"I know. And there's more."

"More?"

"They reran the DNA tests on whoever raped Rory, and '

"Oh, no," he groaned. "Don't tell me."

"It came back the same as last time. Exactly the same. Alek Peach."

When Souness arrived at the incident room Caffery was waiting for her at the door. He'd been thinking about it. Thinking the impossible. "We need to go and see Alek Peach. I think I know what happened. And I think we should appoint a SOIT officer for him."

"SOIT? But that's for '

"For victims of sexual assault. That's right."

Tracey Lamb's name was on the board in the reception wing of Holloway Prison. It said she had a legal visit that afternoon at two o'clock. At one forty-five they took her with the other girls down to the holding cell: "Cunts' Corner', it was still called, just as it had been the last time she was here.

"You're in room one." Room one: that made sense -the one with the TV for video evidence, nearest to the kangas' station so they could keep her under their noses. "Here's your drawer." Lamb scowled at the officer, held wet fingers to the end of the roll-up to stop it burning, and slung it in the drawer to smoke later. "And the rest." The officer rattled the drawer. Obediently Lamb reached into the breast pocket of her T-shirt for her roll-ups. She had a tiny amount of tobacco as a remand prisoner she was allowed thirty pounds a week and that had to buy toiletries and all her tobacco.

Three K. Just think three grand, straight through your fingers.

"Come on, room one, let's be having you."

She was shepherded out of the cell, down the glass-lined corridor and into the room where Kelly Alvarez waited with her papers spread out on the table.

"Hi, Tracey."

"Yeah, what do you want?"

"I want to just tie up some loose ends about your bail next week -I want to be ready for them this time. Want to have a package to offer." She gleamed across at her client, anxious for a response.

Tracey sat down opposite and scowled. "You never told me I might not get bail today."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry about that, Tracey."

"I'd of skipped if I'd known this was going to happen."

"Tracey, that particular judge has got a reputation for it. I spoke to Prosecution afterwards and he was as surprised as I was." She smiled. Yellow teeth. "But we'll make a new application next week and then there'll be no problem."

"Yeah?" She raised her chin a little and looked carefully at Alvarez. In a week Steven might not be alive if he hadn't got out of the ropes he might still be there, bound to the cupboards and the table in the caravan. Seven days how long would it take? What the fuck would you do with a body f What did he have for water and food? The Cokes and chocolate she'd brought him this morning, and a little water in the bottle under the sink. "How can you be so sure I'll get out next time?"

"Ah, because I've got some inside info." She winked broadly. "Today's judge will be on holiday next week and it'll be someone else. There'll be no problem, I promise you."

Lamb nodded thoughtfully. Accustomed to looking over her shoulder, spotting the sleight-of-hand in every encounter, her senses were perfectly tuned in to certain frequencies and she could tell that Kelly Alvarez was not suited to this profession. She could tell that Alvarez was an idealist who wanted badly to please her clients and she knew exactly how to make this fundamental flaw work for her. "Did you find out how they got me?" she said.

"They had a video of you."

"Just one?"

"Just the one." She held up her copy. "Want to see it?"

"No." She shifted in her chair. "What am I doing in it?"

"You are…" She coughed neatly into a big fist. "You are indecently assaulting a small boy."

"Have you seen it?"

"Yes."

"And? Where are we? What am I wearing?"

"You're on a bed."

"Leopardskin cover?"

"That's the one. They'd had it for years." Alvarez put her head on one side, her eyes sympathetic. "I think it was always going to happen, Tracey. The only good thing is that it's all a long time in the past. They haven't got anything recent a jury will be convinced you've put it all behind you."

"No internet stuff?"

"Uh…" Alvarez started to look uncomfortable at the direction of the conversation. "No," she said cautiously. "The video was the only piece of evidence that's come to light so far."

"OK." There are at least four more videos of you in the stuff Penderecki was holding and a whole pack of Carl's internet stuff. Caffery would have surrendered all of that if he'd been connected. Lamb rubbed her hands over her face and looked over her shoulders at the kangas' station. "Right." She turned back, leaning forward, her voice lower. "I asked you about DI Caffery."

"Yes," Alvarez seemed happy to change the subject, "I was interested in that I asked Prosecution and he hadn't heard of him."

"You sure?

"Certain. I did a bit of asking around and he's with a totally different unit, absolutely nothing to do with the paedophile unit and certainly nothing to do with the investigation. Why? What're you thinking?"

"Nothing." But she was. Her thoughts were pounding along. Something in her kept stretching, stretching as hard as it could towards that money every sinew, every cell. "You reckon I'll get bail next week, then?"

"Oh, yes. I can guarantee you will."