Shallow Waters (Detective Hannah Robbins crime series Book 1)

by Rebecca Bradley

  “How did you meet her?”

  “In a bar. We hooked up a few times. She liked a good time. I like a girl that likes a good time.” His lip curled up at one side. This man made my skin crawl. I took a moment, appraising him, feeling his mood.

  “And Allison, how did she come into it?”

  “Huh. She was her kid.”

  “We know that, Colin. What we want to know is: what was your relationship with her?” I picked up my cup and drank as he talked.

  “I made an effort. You have to, don’t you? Someone else’s kid. Mind you, Nat wasn’t much interested in her. Pretty much left her to her own devices, she did. All she were interested in were where her next hit was coming from.”

  “And you were interested in?” I put my cup back on the table and watched.

  “Me? What I could get. No point in pretending otherwise is there? Nat was a whore with a drink problem. Didn’t care much for anything and put out so long as she were tanked.”

  Aaron scribbled notes as Benn talked. The solicitor also made notes, her hand working quickly to keep up. I often wondered if these notes would match up should they ever be compared.

  “What kind of effort did you put in with Allison?”

  “Spent some time with her when her mum were too pissed.”

  “Too pissed for what?”

  “Sex. Did you see her? Why else is anyone gunna be with her?”

  “What happened when she was too pissed to put out?”

  “I didn’t get it, did I?”

  “Didn’t you?”

  “Pissed up bitch would lay out face down on the sofa. Wouldn’t have a clue what were happening around her.” Benn went on, the smell of sweat and rotting feet rising up and filling the small room.

  He talked for another hour. About how Natalie didn’t care for her daughter, how all she wanted was her next drink. He painted a dark picture of life at home for Allison and I saw why she would want to leave it behind. It made the small space she’d fashioned for herself in her room even more poignant. Her house wasn’t a place she could call a home, but she did have somewhere to go when she was inside it: her bedroom. I wondered what else she had done to keep herself away from her mother.

  43

  We left Benn in his cell. We’d been in interview for hours. According to his solicitor, who was not looking so fresh faced after multiple hours in a square box of a room with Colin Benn, he needed a break and some food. It was late and after review with the custody sergeant now on duty, it was decided we would leave him for the night and go again in the morning.

  We didn’t have a confession, but he was a talker. He liked to be the big man. To make the rules. Happy as long as his needs were met. He was comfortable discussing his relationships, seeing nothing wrong with them.

  Grey looked worried as he trotted out of his office. His fingers twitched.

  “Sir.” I acknowledged his presence in the incident room. The team stopped and waited.

  “Hannah, how’s it going with Benn?”

  “He hasn’t given us much so far, but he’s talking about his relationship with Natalie Kirk and stepping into things a little with Allison. He denies all knowledge of Rosie but we haven’t put the forensics to him yet. This is his time to run and we’ll see where he takes us.” I couldn’t tell if this response was what he wanted to hear or not. His hands fidgeted more and his eyes moved around the room. “He’s down for the night, but we’ll go back into interview in the morning.”

  “Do we have results from the computer work?”

  “No, sir, they’re still working on it.”

  “And the custody clock?”

  “We’re... into it. I’ll have to speak with Catherine about an extension. With all the breaks and his eight hours sleep entitlement we need the time.”

  “Okay, okay, but we need results, Hannah. You know we’re being watched on this one.”

  I sighed. “Yes, sir, I realise that.”

  44

  The cage door opened.

  “Come out here.”

  The girl shrank back. But not too far. She didn’t want to annoy him. It was easy to do and when he was annoyed, things got worse.

  “Come on then, out you come.”

  She kept her eyes down. She had to please him but knew never to look him in the eye. Eye contact was insolence and she learned about insolence very early on.

  “Good girl. Stand up straight. That’s it. I can see all of you now. Beautiful.”

  She kept her eyes down. The room felt warmer.

  “Time to clean you up. Just look at you, you’re filthy. How did you manage to get so dirty?”

  She knew better than to answer him. He didn’t want a response.

  She jumped back, startled when his slender fingers grabbed her wrist. His grip tightened like a vice, locking around tiny bones and sending a deep throb through her arm.

  His jaw clenched taut.

  She didn’t look up to his eyes.

  “Now then, it’s only a clean. You want to look pretty don’t you?”

  She nodded. Eyes down.

  She saw the bowl, soapy water and a large pink bath sponge.

  “Come here then, let’s get you cleaned up.” His grip loosened.

  She tried her hardest not to flinch as he took the sponge, dipped it in the warm soapy water and started to wipe her clean. He started at the top, wiping her face, rubbing at areas, tutting at her as he rubbed hard. Areas she knew were really dirty. Or bloody. The warmth of the water felt good. It was gentle and soothing. It caressed her skin and made her feel again. She wanted to sit in this warmth, soak in the small bowl.

  “Good isn’t it?”

  She stiffened.

  He dipped the sponge again, dripping water around her neck and rubbing. The friction caused her to jump, the rubbing making her eyes water. The sponge dipped in and out of the bowl as he cleaned her from top to bottom. Dipping and rubbing until all dirt and blood was washed away.

  “There’s my good girl. Now, time for some photographs.”

  45

  I walked three flights of stairs to the warmest room in the building: the Digital Investigation Unit. The department required special flooring so they didn’t electrocute themselves, or so I was led to believe. It was like a technical Alice in Wonderland experience in here. Computer towers on every desk. Slinky double screened monitors at every workstation. Spare hard drives, discs and flash drives stacked up on shelves and the educational achievements of all the staff were displayed along the walls.

  Today I wanted their professionalism to focus on the computer seized from Benn’s address and, if possible, the computers from Rosie Green and Allison Kirk, though Benn’s was priority. Benn had been working furiously on his computer when we arrived and I’d seen him deleting files. I wanted to know what he was so keen to get rid of.

  The heat being kicked out of the servers was stifling. I removed my jacket and threw it on the back of a chair near the door. I was surprised to see someone still here. Two staff were sat at their desks; Danny Scrivens and Elizabeth Turner.

  “Okay, so who’s working on Benn’s computer?” I asked, hopeful it had indeed been picked up as a job and wasn’t sat in some queue waiting for me to come in here and explode.

  “It’s mine, ma’am. Over here at my workstation.” Danny sat at the rear of the room. I walked over to his desk. At the side of him was a framed photograph of a woman around his age, with a child in her arms. Both looked relaxed and happy. A cloudless powder blue sky provided the pair with a beautiful background.

  “Have you located anything to link him to these murders?”

  Danny laughed and I gritted my teeth. After a tense day I had no sense of humour.

  “What is it you think you’re looking for?” he asked.

  Where to start? “I need to find a link between Benn and Rosie Green.”

  Danny’s face was serious. “Computers are complicated machines. I can’t just go in and find what you think is in here. If we d
on’t know what we’re looking for we don’t know where to start. Give me some kind of overview of what you think we might want to look at?”

  “I don’t know, Danny. Maybe contact between Benn and the victim, Rosie Green, through social networking sites, email, or other means. I need to find a link between them and if possible not just a straight forward link to her, but messages of plans to meet, etcetera.”

  “What I can do first if you want, is a triage of the hard drive and forensically retrieve all the images it holds. It’s a good starting point as you might find something of your victims in there.”

  I was overwhelmed with the techy stuff, but trusted them and what they were doing, so after having an over-my-head technical discussion about the best course of action, I asked for the images to be placed on a separate hard drive so we would be able to check them out, prior to heading back into interview tomorrow. I didn’t know if it would be helpful or not, but at least it was something to be going on with.

  “When can the images be viewed? I wouldn’t push, but he’s in custody now with the clock running.”

  “I can have a copy hard drive full of the images on his computer within a couple of hours, how does that sound? The full-on examination is going to take days, maybe weeks to complete thoroughly.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll ask Ross to come in and check them when they’re ready. I’m thinking early doors tomorrow now?”

  “Yes, it’s late. I’ve no issue with staying on to set this running. I’m not sure we will be able to find the answers you want though, but we can look to see what he’s been up to.”

  “Thanks, Danny.” With that organised, I grabbed my discarded jacket and left.

  My body ached and my mind buzzed. I’d lived through an explosion but hadn’t stopped to process it. The hours of the day were blending into each other and I needed to keep a constant eye on the clock. I needed a break.

  The area that used to be a canteen, before the financial cuts, was now a room filled with tables, chairs and a few vending machines for drinks, chocolate and sandwiches. A microwave and toaster were housed on one of the old kitchen counters. A half used bottle of washing up liquid and a well-worn cloth were discarded in the sink. Bread crumbs gathered around the bottom of the toaster. Cops were bad for clearing up in communal eating areas.

  I fished some change out of my trouser pocket, pushed it into the slot and punched the buttons for black coffee. The machine whirred into life, dropped down a cardboard cup into metal jaws and dribbled in the coffee. I twisted my hand into the small space and wished for the time when police stations had canteens where you got your drinks in cups with handles, and a smile. I didn’t drink coffee often, but it was hot, was strong enough to give me a caffeine burst, and was giving me ten minutes space.

  The old canteen was empty. I sat at a table to the side, the smell of disinfectant heavy from the cleaners who wiped them all down before they left for the day.

  It was dark outside and the uniformed night shift was on. Dependant on the incoming call levels, some cops would be sat catching up on paperwork created on day shifts, and a few would be out on calls. Night time left the station with a ghost ship feel about it.

  I looked at my phone. One missed call. Dad. I hadn’t got back to him after his call a couple of days ago. I knew I should call him back, but I couldn’t face it. With every call I dreaded the content of the conversation, so instead of facing it head on, I avoided it. Avoided my father. It wasn’t his fault, but I didn’t want to deal with it. I didn’t want to deal with his loss of mum as well as my own and I didn’t want to deal with what he felt as a loss in my sister Zoe. I saw no loss there. Her own actions had landed her with the heavy prison sentence. A deep breath escaped from me and I put my head in my hands. I knew I needed to call him back. I promised myself I’d do it when we put Benn away.

  After sending the team home and writing up the decision log it was time to head home myself. We had another early start tomorrow and I needed at least a few hours sleep. I needed to run a bath, pour a drink and sit down.

  The living room had an empty, hollow feel about it. I switched the central heating on and pulled the vodka bottle from the cupboard in the kitchen. Clinking bottle on glass, I poured a heavy shot as I walked back to the living room and dropped down onto the sofa. A sharp edged pain sliced across my chest and around my back. I sucked in my breath and wished I hadn’t been so thoughtless. With a more reserved movement, I lifted my feet up under myself, rested my head back and balanced the glass on the arm of the sofa. It had been a roller-coaster few days, starting with Rosie’s body, then Allison’s, the explosion at Natalie’s and the arrest of Benn. Only now did I feel able to let out a slow breath. It felt like I hadn’t taken one in days. But now we had Benn and we had a good case against him. I slugged back half the drink then remembered the painkillers I’d been taking through the day. It crossed my mind I shouldn’t be drinking. I took another drink. I wondered how Sally was doing but knew it was too late to call her now. She’d be asleep and after what she’d been through she needed her rest.

  Thoughts of Natalie stirred guilt in me. I hadn’t checked on her before leaving work. A point in time when I could have called Sally. But I could do something about my error over Natalie. I finished my drink then dialled the hospital. I was put through to the ward sister who sounded like hers had also been a long day.

  “There’s still no change, but she’s stable, Detective Inspector.”

  “She’s had no visitors?”

  “No, and there has been a police officer by her all the time. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  She wanted me off the phone. She had things to do. I understood. “No thank you. I appreciate your time.”

  “Good night, Inspector.”

  I ended the call. Natalie was safe. I hoped in the next couple of days I could tell her we had her daughter’s killer.

  My phone vibrated in my hand. I checked the caller display expecting it to be work related, with a request to go back in, but instead the caller ID showed Ethan. Thumbing the green accept key, I answered.

  “It seems an age since we spoke,” Ethan said.

  “It does.” I was happy to hear his voice. I picked up the vodka bottle and poured another drink.

  “You need someone to lean on.”

  “And where would I find someone like that?”

  “Right outside your door.”

  I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at it for a couple of seconds before Ethan’s distant voice reminded me he was still there.

  “Hannah?”

  I opened the door, phone still in hand, the back-light still showing Ethan on the call. He stood in the hallway of my apartment building, his back resting against the wall opposite. Dressed in jeans and a shirt open at the neck, his hair slightly damp, he was staring intently at me.

  “Ethan?”

  He stepped through the door and his hand went up to my face. I remembered how I must look.

  “I needed to see you, Hannah.” His thumb traced one of the small red cuts caused by the impact of the blast, before he leaned down and kissed me.

  He took my breath away. His body leaned in to me and with one foot he kicked back and closed the door. I pushed my phone onto the table at the side of the door and ignored the crash as it dropped to the floor.

  “I was worried. You didn’t return my call.” He broke away, a look on his face I didn’t recognise.

  “I’m sorry. It’s been so busy. We have someone in custody. It’s been hectic. I meant to call,” I rambled.

  Ethan cupped my face with his right hand, his eyes connected with mine. I didn’t move. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. His left hand wrapped around my waist. Something shifted inside me. The weariness I was feeling had changed and now I felt alert, alive.

  I managed to find my voice. “Ethan, what are you doing here?”

  “This.” His mouth found mine again, his lips warm, the odour of freshly washed skin filled
my nostrils. My mouth parted, my brain function slowed. I wrapped my arms around his neck and winced as my ribs resisted. I pulled my arms down and rested my hands on his chest. “Hey.” He noticed. “Easy.” He took my hand from his chest and led me from the doorway we still stood in, through the living room and into the bedroom. We stood there a second, just looking. “It hurts?”

  “Yeah.” I took a deep breath. Admission is a killer. “It hurts.” His eyes narrowed and he cupped my face in his hands, leant forward and kissed my lips, so softly I barely realised he was there. I pushed my hand up under his shirt to his chest and felt his heart thudding under my palm. His fingers took my shirt buttons and, one by one, he unfastened them, never taking his eyes from my face. I couldn’t move. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to be anywhere but here. I leaned into him and kissed him. Deep within me there was an ache that just needed to be met. As I pushed forward and up to meet him, I also felt the pain of my ribs wrap itself around my chest; it blended into everything my body was now feeling. Ethan held my shoulders, slowed me down and dropped the shirt from me as the last button yielded. My skin felt alive. His mouth came down and found the curve in my neck. I dropped my head back, he held me secure, one arm wrapped around the small of my back and the other holding my head. His mouth was hot but his movement slow and easy. A groan escaped my lips. Ethan stopped.

  “Here.” He held out his hand and pulled me gently over to the bed, lifted me up and on to it before lying down at the side of me.

  “God, you know how to make a man come running don’t you? Just get blown up!” He laughed, but it was forced, his voice raspy. It was my turn to show sensitivity. I kissed him. I had never wanted him so much.

  46

  The room was still dark. I could smell coffee. Though I rarely drank it the aroma was wafting through the apartment into my bedroom where I now lay, naked and holding a memory of something that should be covering me with a blush. I groaned and pulled the sheets over my head.