Somebody's Daughter

by Carol Wyer

  ‘Is this who was killed?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I have seen her before, there at the car park, at West Gate. It’s where some of the local girls hang out. She’s one of them.’

  ‘Do you mean sex workers?’ said Lucy.

  The man nodded.

  ‘Did you ever—?’

  She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. He shook his head with an effusive, ‘No, never. I never had sex with her. No way. Besides, I couldn’t afford to pay for sex.’

  ‘Have you ever spoken to her?’

  ‘Only to say hello. Nothing more.’ He turned his attention to the mug of tea. ‘Don’t suppose I can have another, can I?’

  ‘In a minute. Remind me exactly where you saw Amelia?’

  ‘West Gate car park.’

  ‘Anywhere else?’

  ‘Nowhere I can think of.’

  ‘Was she always alone?’

  ‘Usually, although I’ve seen her talking to blokes. I didn’t pay them any attention though. I guess they were men looking for her services.’ He pushed the empty mug towards Lucy. She didn’t take the hint.

  ‘Did you hear her call out the name of the person who was arguing with her earlier?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You didn’t hear her shout the name Tommy?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did the guy who was with her look familiar to you?’ Lucy’s fingers grazed the keyboard, keeping pace with his words.

  ‘I don’t recall seeing him before. Maybe I have. I see loads of people every day. Impossible to remember them all.’

  ‘But you remember Amelia?’

  ‘That’s different. She was often in the same place at the same time, so her face stuck in my memory.’

  ‘But this man was distinctive with his big hair.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you still don’t recall seeing him before?’

  Rob shrugged. ‘No.’

  ‘Have you any idea what time you saw the disagreement take place?’

  ‘I think it was about four. I remember hearing the church clock chiming in the distance, a few minutes after I set eyes on them. I was later than usual. I’m normally in town by then. There’s a lot of footfall after that time and people are usually feeling generous on their way home from work. I often get donations, sometimes even get takeaways given to me.’

  ‘Did you see anyone else in the vicinity of the car park around that time?’

  ‘No. There was nobody else. I think there were only a couple of cars and a van in the car park but I didn’t see anybody get out of them. Just the skinny bloke with big hair.’

  Natalie, sat next to Lucy, had been listening in silence to the interview. Rob nodded in her direction as if to confirm his point. This sounded promising. It seemed Rob had witnessed an altercation between Amelia and the man she’d been seen with shortly before she ran away from home, Tommy.

  Lucy still had questions. ‘Do you remember anything at all about the vehicles? Identifying logos? Makes or models?’

  Rob screwed his face in concentration. ‘The van was plain with no writing on the side and was a light colour, maybe white or cream. The cars were dark-coloured. I think one was an estate car, the other, no… sorry, I can’t help you.’

  ‘Is there anything else at all you can think of that might help us identify this man?’

  ‘I can’t think of anything else.’

  Lucy finished typing. ‘I have to print out your statement and you’ll need to read through it yourself before signing it. Are you okay to stay for a few more minutes?’

  ‘Not got anywhere special to go and it’s a lot warmer here than the streets,’ he replied and he eased back against the chair, legs outstretched.

  ‘I’ll get you another tea. To take away with you.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  Lucy headed into the main office, leaving Natalie alone with Rob, who began cleaning out the dirt from under a nail.

  ‘How long have you been living on the street?’ she asked.

  ‘A couple of years, I suppose. I can’t remember exactly. The days sort of merge into one.’

  ‘I guess they do. Must be tough.’

  ‘It’s tougher for some than others.’

  ‘Where do you sleep?’

  ‘Anywhere I can. Sometimes, if there’s space at the shelters, I go there. If not, there’s always the bridge. You got any more energy bars?’

  ‘Sorry. I only keep one for emergencies.’

  He nodded and focused his bright eyes on her. ‘Thanks anyway.’

  ‘You have any family?’

  He looked wistfully at the empty mug on the desk for a brief moment as if a memory was tugging him back into the past, then blinked and said, ‘Used to. Not any longer.’

  Lucy appeared with a cardboard takeaway cup, an A4 sheet and a pen. ‘Here’s your statement. If you could read through it and sign it, please.’

  ‘You remember to put three sugars in that tea?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good.’ He read the statement in silence, signed, then rose and held out his hand for Lucy to shake. She took it.

  ‘Thanks for coming in. If you can think of anything else—’

  ‘I’ll come back.’

  ‘You don’t have a mobile by any chance, do you?’

  ‘You’re joking. I can’t afford a cup of tea, let alone a phone.’

  ‘It was just a thought. Where can we find you, if we want to talk to you again?’

  ‘Under Samford Bridge or one of the drop-in centres. Somebody there will know where I am. I don’t stray far or ever leave Samford.’ He picked up the cup.

  Natalie escorted him through the outer office and into the corridor, and as he put out his hand to say goodbye, she thrust a twenty-pound note into it.

  ‘You don’t have to—’

  ‘Take it.’

  He pocketed it and she accompanied him to the door, watching as he headed off into the cold night. She closed the door and turned at the sound of her name. Lucy was behind her, a coat over her arm.

  ‘Murray and I are heading out to see if we can locate Tommy.’

  ‘You want me to join you?’

  ‘No. It could be a fruitless search, and the rest of the team are already combing the streets for information or witnesses. If we can’t locate him, I’m going to send everybody home. If we do find out where he lives, I’ll give you a ring.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Murray emerged into the hallway, coat already on, car keys jangling in his hand as he lumbered to the door. The earlier fallout had been forgotten. ‘Thought we’d try the park, see if we can talk to any of the other street girls. They might know this Tommy bloke.’

  Lucy slipped on her own coat and reached for the door handle. ‘Okay. See you tomorrow, Natalie.’

  Natalie stepped aside and the door opened again, letting in a whoosh of cold air. Watching Lucy’s and Murray’s retreating backs, she had to shake off the yearning to be heading the investigation. Her priority was to ensure the new team succeeded. They were off to a promising start, and for now there was little more she could add to proceedings. She checked her watch. It was eleven thirty and time for her to go home.

  Mike’s detached house had been built in the early noughties and was one of many on a busy estate on the outskirts of Samford. It lacked the character of her old home in Castergate, which she’d shared with her ex-husband and their two children. That house had possessed a cottagey feel to it, with beams in the kitchen and sitting room, and a large, farmhouse-style kitchen. Mike’s house was less… welcoming. It wasn’t that she disliked it, far from it – it was a smart, functional and stylish property. It was because it still felt alien to her, even after twelve months, it still didn’t feel like home.

  She blipped the control in the direction of the metal grille, which slid back along its tracks, allowing her to park on the brick driveway. Security-conscious Mike always shut the gate at night and normally double-locked and bolted the
doors unless Natalie or Josh were out late. She let herself in, removed her shoes and stood in the silence before pulling the bolt across behind her. The small act pleased her. She was developing some routines to help bind her to this place.

  The house smelt of warm vanilla, a hangover from the party. It reminded her she hadn’t eaten this evening, and although she wasn’t hungry, she ought to make herself a warm drink to help her sleep. She breathed in the delicious scents as she wandered into the kitchen, where dirty crockery was piled by the sink, waiting to be loaded into the dishwasher. While she waited for a pan of milk to warm, she stacked the machine.

  She didn’t regret moving in with Mike Sullivan. In many ways, they were perfect for each other. Their relationship was on firm ground, David had accepted the situation, and Mike and Josh got on well. The only fly in the ointment was Thea. The milk was soon ready, and as she poured it into a small mug, all the while stirring in cocoa powder, a sharp jabbing in her ribs caused by the memory of her own daughter, Leigh, halted her momentarily. Leigh had adored her father and had been a total daddy’s girl until she hit her teens. Thea could well follow the same path, and if she did, it would hurt Mike, just as Leigh’s attitude had wounded David. She lifted the drink to her lips and breezed the surface with soft air. The aroma of chocolate wafted back onto her face. As she sipped, she thought about Amelia, a girl who’d left home because her father had hit her. Had she and Ray also been close at one stage?

  Mug emptied, she rinsed it and the pan out and placed them on the draining board. She turned on the dishwasher and made her way upstairs. Opening the bedroom door, she stopped in her tracks. Mike was fast asleep, flat on his back, arms and legs spread out like a starfish. She wanted to snuggle up to him and feel the warmth of his body against hers but that position was occupied. Natalie studied the curled, pyjama-clad figure who loved her daddy, before pushing the door to and padding to the spare room.

  Katie Bray was slumped on the settee, staring at the red and white box on her lap.

  ‘What’s the matter with you? Get it eaten. You’re way too scrawny. You need to eat.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ Even before the final word left the teenager’s mouth, she knew she’d been wrong to speak out. Tommy put the remains of his hamburger onto the table in front of them, wiped grease from his mouth with the back of his hand and then turned his icy gaze on her.

  ‘Eat the fucking Happy Meal.’

  She willed herself to control the trembling but she couldn’t, nor could she prevent the tears from welling in her eyes. ‘Please,’ she whispered.

  ‘What’s got into you? I said eat! Do you want me to force it down your fucking throat?’ This was the side of her boyfriend that terrified her. She lifted a piece of battered chicken to her mouth but it was no use; she couldn’t eat it and her thin shoulders shook.

  ‘I can’t. Today… was… horrible.’ The recollection of the man in the alley and what he had done to her returned, and she let the chicken nugget fall back into the box, dropped her head into her hands and sobbed.

  Tommy didn’t yell at her or slap her across the face or yank her to her feet by her hair and throw her across the room, as he invariably did when he was furious with her. Instead, he picked at a piece of meat stuck between his front teeth, examined it, sucked it from his nail and then said, ‘Okay. I understand. You had a shit day. You and me both. Chill. I won’t make you eat.’

  Emboldened by this slight show of concern, she raised her head, eyes reddened. He was studying her. ‘It was dreadful.’

  Tommy shrugged. ‘He paid well though, didn’t he?’

  ‘It wasn’t worth £200. It made me feel… disgusted with myself, and it hurt. It hurt a lot.’

  His eyelids lowered, a hooded look she’d seen many times. He didn’t understand nor did he care. As long as she gave herself to whoever was willing to pay, he was satisfied.

  The old Katie, the girl she’d been the day she’d left home after the fight with her sister, Sophia, blazed briefly. ‘I’m not doing this again. I want to go home. Give me some money. It’s my money.’

  A silence fell and Tommy appeared to be considering her request. Her heartbeat increased at the thought. Maybe she could go home and forget all about this nightmare. She dared to glance in his direction and, catching sight of her earnest gaze, he threw his head back and laughed a soulless, cruel laugh. ‘Like they’d want you back. Sophia hates you and your parents will be sick to their stomachs when they find out what you’ve been doing the last few months – their precious daughter, a filthy, dirty whore who’ll give a blow job for a few pounds and do anything you ask for serious money.’

  ‘I’m not a whore! You made me do those things!’

  ‘You can’t make somebody become a slut if they already are one.’ His flinty eyes rested on her and she wondered what she’d ever seen in him. She’d fallen for this man and would have done anything for him – and had done – because she wanted him to love her in return, but he didn’t. He was using her.

  He continued talking. ‘You couldn’t wait to open your legs for me, and don’t try and pretend you didn’t enjoy what we did.’

  Tommy had been the first person she’d ever slept with, and she’d thought they’d had something special for a brief while until he’d shut her in this room with three of his drunken friends and allowed them to rape her repeatedly. He’d returned to a broken Katie, one who was terrified it would happen again, and comforted her with soothing noises, let her snivel against his shoulders, promising nothing as bad would ever happen to her as long as she did what he wanted. He’d forced her to work on the streets and every evening had strip-searched her to ensure she wasn’t keeping any of the money she earned for herself. He paid for her food, clothes and personal items and rented the bedsit they lived in, but he also kept all the earnings. She was his slave, bound to him, first through love, then through fear, and he was ready to remind her why she couldn’t leave him. For one thing, her parents had no idea where to look for her, even if they’d wanted to. It had been Tommy’s suggestion she smash her mobile so it couldn’t be traced. At the time, when she’d really loved Tommy and hated Sophia, it had seemed a good idea. She hadn’t wanted to return home. Then, there was the trump card he held, which ensured she’d remain compliant.

  ‘You even think about going and you know what will happen to Olivia.’ He ran his tongue over his lips and she shuddered. Olivia was only nine years old. Tommy had warned her he’d do all sorts of vile things to her kid sister if Katie ever tried to run away from him, and she knew he would carry out his threats. He was crazy at times, scary and unpredictable. She wouldn’t put it past him to follow Olivia to or from school and try to abduct her. She couldn’t let him harm her. She nodded, and he stretched out and stroked her hair. For a moment, she felt gratitude for the small kindness and an urge to be held in his arms and feel protected. Tommy still had that effect on her. In spite of everything, she wanted to please him, make him smile, listen to him tell her she was the only girl for him and that when they had enough money, they’d stop all of this madness and start over again somewhere, just the two of them. He used to tell her that all the time at the beginning but hadn’t recently. She wished he would. The man this afternoon had been brutal, and sitting as she was on the settee was proving uncomfortable, even now. She couldn’t face a similar ordeal again, and yet she knew if the man ever told Tommy she’d refused his money, he’d beat her senseless and ensure the man got exactly what he wanted.

  This wasn’t the life she’d envisaged when she’d run away. Tommy had been kind, promising he’d look after her and assuring her he was falling in love with her. She’d wanted him because he’d been Sophia’s boyfriend, and Katie had been flattered when he’d turned his attention to her instead. Her spite had resulted in this, and she deserved the torture and torment. Tommy had reminded her on several occasions that her parents hadn’t come looking for her and she would never be welcome back home. After all, she’d broken Sophia’s heart and st
olen her boyfriend. They’d never know the truth about him.

  ‘Let’s forget this nonsense. You had a bad day and I’ve bought you a nice meal to make up for it,’ he said, sweeping his hand in the direction of the bottle of wine and chips still in their packet on the table. ‘You should be pleased I care about you and want you to eat. Look at you! You’re all skin and bones. Nobody wants to shag a scrawny bitch. Eat it and afterwards you can have a treat.’

  Katie knew it was pointless to go against his wishes. It would be easier for her if she complied. The demon that had once resided inside her had long gone. The fight had drained from her and left her a husk – a scared, lonely shell of a girl. The treat he’d promised was cocaine. He spent most of her earnings on it. It was better when he splashed out on drugs for them both. It made things more bearable. The coke would help her forget about the horror of today but tomorrow this would all happen again, and the day after, and… Hot tears trickled over her cheeks as she selected a piece of chicken.

  ‘Good girl. That’s more like it.’

  Chapter Six

  Saturday, 2 November – Morning

  Natalie was woken by a movement next to her. The mattress had sunk and she opened her eyes to find Mike, in boxer shorts and a snug-fitting T-shirt that showed off his muscular frame, sat on the edge of the single guest bed. ‘Morning.’ He bent to kiss her, his hands caressing her body through the duvet.

  Eventually, he pulled away, his face hovering over hers. She blinked the sleep from her eyes. ‘Mmm. Now that’s what I call a wake-up call. What time is it?’

  ‘Six thirty.’

  She grimaced. ‘Early. Too early.’

  ‘Thea’s awake and I managed to convince her to watch cartoons downstairs. I wondered if you’d like to come back to bed now she’s vacated your spot.’

  She caught the glint in his eye. ‘Or I could shove over and you could hop in here.’