‘Are you going to shoot me, Jody?’ she says. ‘Me? Can you really do that?’ Her tone is soft, gentle. She talks like a victim; she speaks like a normal person.
Pain crescendos in my head and nausea swirls through my whole body, both things making me sway again.
‘Are you all right?’ she asks. ‘I’m sorry I hit you. I . . . I panicked. Are you all right? You don’t look all right.’
Her form becomes blurry in front of my eyes and I have to shake my head to clear my vision.
She points to a nearby house. ‘Shall I go to this house? Call an ambulance? For both of us?’ It’s her turn to swoon, to violently sway. ‘I’m losing so much blood. I need medical help.’
‘Stop talking.’
‘But Jody—’
‘Harlow Gravett. Gisele Monte-Brown. Shania Devenish. Freya Occhino. Bess Straker. Yolande Calverley. Jolene Benkko. Sandy Vainna. Robyn Kiernan.’ Jovie Foster, I add silently. ‘Those are the names of the women you killed. Not your brother. You. Remember those names as you die.’
She puts out her hand to stop me. ‘What about the others?’ she says quickly. ‘What about the other women whose bodies you haven’t found? I know where they all are. I can take you to them.’
‘I don’t care where they are. You don’t get to walk away from this. You just don’t.’
‘You might not care, but their families will. Their families will want something to bury.’
‘I’ll just have to tell them you said you didn’t remember where they were,’ I reply.
‘You can’t just shoot me,’ she says. ‘I’m not armed.’
‘And I’ll tell them you came at me, despite the gun. And even if they don’t believe me, I don’t care. I’m more than ready to do my time. With the number of women you brutalised and murdered – I’ll be a hero behind bars.’
I can see it dawning on her that I’ve thought about this. I’m prepared to do this. ‘You can’t just shoot me!’ she cries.
‘Actually, I can,’ I reply.
And pull the trigger.
Once.
Twice.
Just to be sure.
Part 10
Pieta
Saturday, 13 July
Earlier
‘Oh for the love of . . .’ Lillian rolled her eyes when she opened her front door. ‘It’s the weekend, Pieta, I do not have to deal with you or any of the others who plague my weekday existence. It’s completely inappropriate for you to be here.’
She lived out in Ringmer, which was proper countryside – it always seemed to me more green than buildings. Her house was low and wide, with a vast amount of land around it. She had outbuildings and space for horses. She used to keep them but got rid of them recently. I only knew that because of the conversations I overheard; Lillian wasn’t one for over-sharing apart from about her sex life. About that, no one could shut her up.
‘Can I speak to you inside?’ I asked her calmly.
She gritted her teeth and stepped back to let me in. I shut the door behind me.
‘I’ll get straight to the point: you’re a fucking bitch, Lillian.’
She had so little self-awareness that she actually looked shocked at that. Or maybe it was because those words were leaving my mouth.
‘Oh come on, let’s not pretend you’re not. You play up to that role. But I also know, you’re a good person deep down. Deep, deep down.’
‘And?’
‘And I want you to take care of my son for me.’
She started to laugh. ‘You are funny, Pieta Rawlings.’
‘Someone is trying to kill me. I was kidnapped from outside a London nightclub ten years ago. I was held for a weekend and told not to open my eyes for the entire time.’
‘That’s Callie’s story.’
‘It’s my story, too. The person who did that is after me. And they want my son. I need to hide him with someone I know will look after him but no one would even think I would go to. That’s you, Lillian.’
‘Is this a joke?’
‘I’ve never given my son to someone I haven’t completely vetted before, Lillian. But I need you to believe me and I need you to look after my son.’ I shed my jacket.
I’m doing this for Kobi, I reminded myself as I pulled my T-shirt out of my denim skirt waistband, untucked my vest. I took a couple of deep breaths, gathered the folds of my tops in my hands and then lifted them. Another couple of deep breaths before I turned and showed her.
Lillian, I’d always thought, was unshockable but she gasped when she saw my scars. ‘Oh my God,’ she whispered. ‘Oh my God, I had no idea, Pieta.’
I covered myself up again. ‘It’s not something I talk about. But I need your help. I need you to take care of Kobi for the next few hours. If I’m not back in twenty-four hours, I need you to call the police and my parents. Their number is in Kobi’s bag. You mustn’t give him to anyone except me or my parents. Not even the police.’
‘This is serious, isn’t it?’ she said.
‘Yes, Lillian. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t. I have to trust you. I have to trust that your reputation would stop anyone looking for him here.’ I stared straight into her eyes. ‘Can I trust you, Lillian?’
‘Yes,’ she replied without hesitation. ‘Absolutely yes.’
On the drive over there, Kobi asked me more than once why he had to stay with Lillian. He’d met her a couple of times when he came into the office, and she’d let him sit in her chair and watch internet videos on her computer. He’d liked her, but had wanted to have more than simply, ‘Because I have to do something’ as an answer. ‘What about Sazz?’ he kept asking. ‘She’s not available,’ I repeatedly replied. He’d never been a child to accept a non-explanatory reply to a question.
I fetched Kobi from Ned’s car, which was parked on the gravel drive, and brought him to her door. ‘Can you write code?’ Lillian asked instead of saying hello.
‘Yes, of course,’ Kobi replied, completely nonplussed by her lack of greeting.
‘Right, well, that’s good. I’m missing my coding lesson right now because your mum wants me to look after you. I think it’s only fair you teach me some stuff in return.’
‘OK.’ Kobi shrugged. ‘But I hope you can keep up.’
‘Keep up, you cheeky blighter! I’ll show you keep up!’
I got down on my knees and took Kobi into my arms. I held him like it was the last time I was going to see him. Because, as far as I was concerned, it could very well be. I’d scrawled down a letter to my parents and one to Kobi. I couldn’t explain everything to Mum and Dad, but I managed to get just enough in to let them know I loved them, and I knew Kobi would have a good life with them. To Kobi, I just told him I loved him, I was proud of him and he was the best thing in my life.
‘All right, Mum!’ Kobi had said, completely mortified that I was doing this in front of another human being. ‘I’ll see you soon.’
‘See you soon, Kobi. I’ll see you very soon.’
The police car pulls up outside Lillian’s house and it takes me a while to get out because my whole body aches from the way I’ve been beaten up. My face is a sight to behold: my lip is split in three different places, the left corner of my mouth is puffy and sore every time I move, there is a gash above my left eye that is held together by five white strips, and there are scratches and cuts that extend down across my neck and chest. My split knuckles have been dressed to keep them clean.
I don’t feel any of this. I’m aware of it, but I’m numb to everything. The world is going on around me, and I can’t feel it. I just want to get to my son. I want to hold him in my arms and pretend that everything is normal.
Kobi shoots out of the house when Lillian opens her white front door.
‘What’s going on?’ he asks as he runs into my arms. ‘Why are you in a police car? Did you do something bad? What happened to your face? What happened to your hands? Were you in a fight? Did the police arrest you because you were fighting? What’s happened? Where’s Capt
ain Ned?’
Even though they’re coming at me at a thousand miles an hour, the last question doesn’t simply sail past, it rips me apart inside, opens up an earthquake that feels like it will never stop tearing itself asunder.
Ned.
I can’t think about it, let alone talk about it.
‘So many questions, Kobi,’ I say. ‘Can I get a hug before I even attempt to answer them?’
For the first time in what feels like a for ever, Kobi throws his arms around me without rolling his eyes or sighing first. For the first time in a for ever, I can hug my son, knowing I have nothing else to fear from his father.
Jody
Saturday, 13 July
‘Guv’, you are in so much trouble.’ Laura tells me this.
It’s like she thinks I haven’t noticed the uniformed officer standing outside my room, and the handcuffs that keep me chained to the metal arm of the bed. But why would any of that get in the way of a moment of drama from Laura. I wish I’d known her at school. She would have been so much fun.
‘I know, Laura,’ I reply. ‘It’s nice of you to visit, though.’
‘How could I not? I was told to stay away, we all were, but fuck it. If you can go off-grid, why shouldn’t I?’
‘Because you could lose your job, be accused of collusion, get arrested . . . ? Any of these things sound familiar?’
‘Fuck it, you only live once. You know who has lost her job, though?’
‘Who?’
‘Karin Logan. Detective Constable.’
I laugh when Laura says it like that. ‘I’m not laughing at her losing her job, by the way, just the way you imitated her. It was spot on. Why has she lost her job?’
‘Only letting her boyfriend see the files, wasn’t she? She was so pissed off with you, she showed him the files to let him see how much work you’d saddled her with. Instant dismissal. The Federation rep said he’ll do his best to get her to keep her pension but given she was giving a serial rapist access to the case on him, it’s not likely.’ She wheels her seat nearer to my bed. ‘He told us that. Think he was so shocked at what she’d done and didn’t want to represent her.’
‘Please apologise to everyone for me. Tell them I’m sorry, and that I’m so proud of the work they did. I hope it doesn’t follow them around and I hope they can forgive me some day.’
Laura gives me a funny look, as though I’m being overdramatic. ‘Forgive you for what? Everyone’s totally behind you. You went off to face him down. Yeah, you went on your own and didn’t tell us, but everyone thinks you’re really brave. Even braver for not killing that psychopathic bitch.’
No, I didn’t do it. I didn’t shoot her. I was going to. Honest to goodness I was going to. I was going to avenge all those women they took. I could ignore the rights and wrongs of the situation, the fact we don’t have a death sentence in this country; I could square in my mind the fact that Winston would have to find someone else because I was going to spend the rest of my life in prison. I could even balance in my head that I’d be taking a life.
And then . . . then it was like Jovie was at my side. I sensed her at my shoulder, I felt her so very near. ‘Open your eyes, Jodes,’ she whispered. ‘Open your eyes, see who you really are. This isn’t you. You don’t want those families to suffer, for them to never know what happened to their loved ones. You don’t want the story to become about you instead of them. The ones who were lost. Open your eyes, Jodes. Be the person I know you are.’
She was right. I couldn’t let this become about me, the crazed police officer with the terrible secrets. It had to be about the victims. Everything had to be about the victims. If I hadn’t made what happened to Jovie about me, she might still be here.
I discharged the gun into the ground near Callie’s feet. To frighten her. And to pull the trigger because I didn’t think my fingers would release themselves without yanking it. And then I did it again, just to be sure I didn’t want to kill her.
By the time I’d made a tourniquet out of the belt from my trousers to stop Callie’s bleeding – she had to live to face the charges – the other police arrived and I had to get down on my knees, put my hands behind my head and wait for them to secure the weapon.
I did everyone a favour by passing out just as a poor, unsuspecting uniform PC put on the handcuffs.
‘Is my other half here yet?’ I ask Laura to change the subject. I’m still not completely convinced I shouldn’t have killed Callie. She is poison. She is manipulative poison. She will make people feel sorry for her, she will find a way to become a victim, too. And because her brother is dead, he can’t refute any of her claims.
I’ve told an open-mouthed Detective Chief Inspector Nugent everything, handcuffed to this bed. He was a lot less angry than I thought he would be. Especially when I explained about Jovie. And, I suppose, I didn’t actually kill anyone. ‘You’ll be on suspension for a while and you’ll also be facing all sorts of charges,’ DCI Nugent said.
‘Not a lot I can do about that,’ I said, trying to sound flippant. It bugged me, of course it did. It more than bugged me. I loved my job, I was good at it without letting it consume me, or change me. With my eyes open and my mouth even more open when necessary, I could be a police officer. All of that was gone.
He’d reluctantly smiled at me. ‘It’s a shame you went rogue, I would have liked you to transfer down to us. You’ve got an interesting way of doing things.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I replied, ‘I’m thinking of becoming a private detective. We’ll still see each other.’
That made the smile drain away from his face. ‘Don’t even joke about it.’
‘When you didn’t come back, Guv’, and all your stuff was there, I thought you’d gone off to . . . Let’s just say I thought the pressure had got too much,’ Laura says.
‘You mean to tell me you didn’t go through my mobile or the package I left on my desk?’ I ask her.
Shifty-eyed, she shakes her head. ‘Was I meant to?’
‘I was told not to tell anyone where I was going, but I left my mobile unlocked with the text messages up so I wasn’t technically telling anyone. I left the package The Blindfolder sent Pieta Rawlings on my desk. I left an extra copy of the map I printed out right next to my mobile. Are you seriously telling me you saw none of it?’
Laura looks embarrassed as she shakes her head.
‘Some detective you are!’ I say.
‘Thing is, Guv’, your desk is an absolute midden,’ she replies.
We both crease up in laughter until a knock at the door forces us to tuck away the levity and remember the seriousness of the situation. I could be charged with attempted murder. There is nothing funny about that.
I tell whoever knocked to enter and the door swings open. Winston. Seeing him breaks something inside. I’ve been stoic, accepting and occasionally funny so far. Nothing has penetrated my exterior. But seeing him, standing there in all his normalness, crushes me.
‘Babe, I was so worried,’ he says as he rushes to my bedside. ‘I called your mobile a million times. And your landline. I thought I’d be getting a death notification visit from your colleagues.’ He takes me in his arms and I clutch at him, crush him to me. Then I cry. Properly cry. Like I should have for Jovie. Like I should have for Harlow, Bess, Shania, Gisele, Freya, Robyn, Jolene, Sandy and Yolande.
All their stories, all their ends, all their pain comes rushing towards me like an out-of-control wave. Winston holds on to me while I cry and weep and sob. All of it. He doesn’t let go for even the briefest of seconds while I finally face all the secret truths and pain and horrors I’ve been hiding from.
At some point Laura leaves, but I don’t notice. All I notice is Winston’s voice saying over and over, ‘It’s OK, babe, it’s OK. I’ve got you, I’ve got you.’
Part 11
Pieta
Thursday, 14 November
‘Hi, Ned. Hi.’
I leave it long enough for him to reply. For him to open his e
yes, and smile and speak to me. He doesn’t, of course. He stays very still, in his bed, floating somewhere else away from this world. Away from me.
I can’t believe he’s gone and I can’t believe I’ll never get to speak to him again. I can’t believe that and stay sane. No matter what, though, I’ve been forced to accept, to believe, that the longer he is in this coma, the less likely he is to wake up from it. I don’t want to believe it, but that’s what the nurses and the doctors tell me every time I come here. It’s what they tell his parents and what Sazz has gently intimated more than once.
He was without oxygen for a bit too long, they’ve explained, his brain and vital organs were so deprived they may never recover.
Sazz visits him as well. We don’t talk about it much, but she mentions if there’s been any change (there rarely is). Sazz told me that while Callie had been ranting at me, oblivious to everything except herself, Ned had been whispering to her it would be OK. That I’d make sure she was all right. That we’d all get out of there alive and in one piece.
‘Lillian was off on one today. As I said before, she managed to keep her “fucking bitch-ness” in check for, what, all of two weeks? If that. Today’s tantrum took all my strength not to let rip. But you know, I managed to keep it in. Thought of colours, thought of the very nice thing she did for me that time I needed her and let it go.’
This all still feels surreal. Four months later and everything is still quite surreal, mainly because of how easy it has been to slip back into normal life. Lillian reverting to type, BN Sussex still ticking over, me embarrassing Kobi in front of his friends, Sazz looking after him a bit more now because she has moved in. She couldn’t stay in her house after what happened there and I begged her to stay with us until she had sold her place and bought somewhere else. It’s almost as if a massive rock was chucked into the lake of my life – it made a huge splash and displaced so many things, but over time, everything has settled again, gone back to how it was with barely a trace of what happened.
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