Poetic Justice

by R. C. Bridgestock

  To those looking on, Kenny played the perfect attentive partner. His lips formed the perfect lover’s smile offering sweet nothings in her ear, but what he actually said was far less palatable. ‘Don’t mess with me, Kay,’ he whispered, menacingly. Looking into her eyes, he was met by her troubled stare. ‘You turned up just like I asked. You’ve even gone to the trouble of dressing up for me.’ He winked at her, and his smile widened. ‘Don’t think I haven’t noticed the stockings and suspenders.’ His warm hand stroked her leg, promising more. ‘You’re a tease, Kay, that’s all, just a big tease. I know what you really want and, if you’re honest with yourself, you know exactly what you want too. And that’s me. You know it is only me who can ever make you completely happy.’

  Kay’s expression was pained as she began to realise just how serious he was. ‘You don’t understand, Kenny. I can’t leave, not now, not with Isla being so ill.’

  Kenny sat up, leaned across the table and put a finger under her chin. Their eyes locked, but it wasn’t a lovers’ stare. ‘You can. And you will,’ he whispered. ‘Do you understand?’

  Kay’s eyes closed slowly and she nodded her head. Her voice wobbled. ‘Yes,’ she replied.

  The sex they indulged in before they left for home was not what she had become accustomed to. Kenny was the patient lover no more; this time he was extremely rough.

  Shocked, and a little frightened, Kay ran from his car to hers and locked the doors. This was not fun. Unusually, he drove off before her and a blanket of darkness fell all around her the moment he was gone. She replenished her make-up. Her mouth felt sore; her body bruised. Had the aggression been intentional? She was torn: a big part of her wanted to end the relationship but – if she was honest – as Kenny had said, there was a part of her which didn’t.

  She put her head back on the headrest and closed her eyes. She recalled the first time: the smell of him on top of her, the heaviness of his powerful body, the passion in his voice as he’d asked if she was sure. She’d wallowed in the attention he gave her, the excitement of their clandestine meetings and the idyllic fortnight they had just spent living as man and wife while Dylan had been away. For the third time that night she rubbed her forehead to break her reverie. How could their affair have turned out the way it had? Then she remembered how the real argument had started, the words still fresh in her mind: When are you going to leave?

  Kay had wondered at first whether she had understood him correctly. Even to her ears, her response had sounded lame. ‘When am I going to leave …?’

  ‘Leave Dylan and come to live with me?’

  The words bounced off every bone in her body. Leave him? Leave … LeaveDylan? No, she wasn’t ready for it, nor had she ever truly thought she would leave him.

  Kay banged her fist down hard on the steering wheel. Why had Kenny gone and spoiled it all? What she wanted, what she needed, was for their secret affair to remain forever just that: a secret.

  Chapter Twelve

  Taking several deep breaths, Kay smoothed out the creases of her clothing, double-checked her make-up in the driver’s mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. She checked her phone. It had been over three hours since she had left, but she knew the lightheartedness she must portray to her husband would only be required for a few minutes, because as soon as she walked through the door, Dylan would be on his way out.

  ‘Good do, was it?’ Dylan called from the lounge when he heard the key in the lock and the gentle click of the door shutting behind her.

  Kay came to stand by the door. ‘No, not really,’ she said.

  Her hair was dishevelled and, Dylan thought, there was something about her: her eyes were bright, sparkling … perhaps she had never looked lovelier. And then she was gone.

  ‘I’ll just run up and grab a shower and get my comfies on and I’ll be straight back down, Isla,’ she called to their daughter as she ran up the stairs, adding as an afterthought, ‘The car keys are on the hallway table, Jack!’

  Dylan rose to his feet, bent down to gave Isla a habitual brief kiss on the forehead and asked, ‘Will you be okay?’

  The build-up of sleepless nights was now clearly visible on Isla’s face. ‘Stop asking me if I’m okay, will you?’ Her voice was raised. ‘Actually, it makes me feel much worse. How many times do I have to tell you I’m fine? And for your information I don’t need babysitting.’

  Dylan fastened the top button of his shirt and tightened the knot in his tie. ‘It’s only because I care,’ he murmured softly. He walked into the hallway and looked up towards the sound of the running shower. He felt a faint stirring within him and sighed, wanting nothing more in that moment than to go to his wife, talk to her, hold her and make love to her like he used to. Instead, he stepped forward to pick up the car keys and as he did so there was a tug at his sleeve; it was Isla come after him.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘I know you do, Dad …’ she said. Her eyes looked redder in the hallway’s bright light: tired, swollen and stressed. ‘It’s the withdrawal: makes me feel irritable all the time … I’m so proud of you. I hope you find those missing girls soon, so that you can come back home to us.’

  ‘I’ll do my damnedest,’ he said, with a half-hearted smile. As he held her, he looked up the stairs. The shower had stopped but there was no sign of Kay.

  Isla pulled away. ‘If you’re waiting for Mum to come down, you’ll still be standing here in the morning. If I know her, she’ll be straight to her bed, no matter what she said before.’

  Catching sight of his face in the hallway mirror, Dylan saw himself frown. Perhaps it was time to grow a backbone and simply face up to the fact that Kay might be indulging in an affair. After watching Isla go back into the lounge, he gathered up his coat, grabbed the car keys and shut the door behind him. ‘For better or for worse,’ he announced to the night air. Now, as then, he meant every word he said.

  The cold afternoon, accompanied by a light breeze, had turned into a blustery evening and the wind blew his thoughts away. He pulled his coat edges closer together when a gust caught him off balance. As he drove towards the police station, his thoughts turned to the missing girls and his concern grew. Time was of the essence when someone was vulnerable; the course at Hendon had reinforced his awareness that precious minutes saved lives.

  He had learned that predators could groom their prey for weeks, even years, watching and waiting for an opportunity to pounce, and a child could sometimes disappear in the blink of an eye. But with two incidents occurring in one day, and knowing the different circumstances, it didn’t strike him that this was what had happened here. However, the words of his mentor, Peter Reginald Stonestreet came back to him: ‘Never assume, son,’ he’d said. ‘Never assume anything.’ Dylan guessed that applied to his home life as well.

  Kay gave a deep sigh of relief as she sat down at her dressing table in the darkened room, a towel draped around her body. She had waited at the window to see Dylan reverse the car down the driveway. He’d stopped and looked up at their window, and she’d immediately drawn back. Still thinking of Kenny, she put on her pyjamas and headed for her bed.

  Hearing the pull-cord in the bathroom a few minutes later, Kay suspected that her daughter was heading for a relaxing bath before bed – just what the doctor would have ordered. She smiled and nuzzled down further, breathing in the lavender pillow spray Kenny had bought her.

  Half an hour later, still tossing and turning, she could not get to sleep. She felt bad. Kenny’s mood earlier, she conceded after some consideration, was just a reflection of his disappointment and frustration. Who wouldn’t be angry and upset, considering how she was treating him?

  For the fourth time in less than fifteen minutes she picked up the phone. He was a good man, a kind man. He made her feel special, he made her feel loved and she didn’t want to lose him. But neither could she face thinking about leaving Jack (and particularly Isla) at the moment. What she wanted was his patience. What she needed was to hear his voice –
but what could she say to a person who she loved, but who she was hurting so deeply?

  For over an hour she stared at the phone, making excuses for her actions, practising exactly what she would say to him, ever so sure she would have a response that would satisfy him, since he loved her. However, as she sat in silence on the edge of the bed listening over and over to the ringing tone, she became less sure.

  ‘Hello?’ said Kenny eventually. His voice sounded groggy as if he had been fast asleep. She clasped the phone tighter, a little annoyed that he was able to sleep when she couldn’t. If he loved her as much as he said he did, how could he manage to sleep so soundly after their row?

  ‘Meet me tomorrow. We need to talk,’ was all she said before putting down the phone.

  Kenny smiled to himself. He looked at the clock. Almost midnight. And she acts like she doesn’t care? Bullshit!

  Dylan looked at the clock. It was midnight when the knock came at his office door. Detective Constable Benjamin entered. Yawning widely, Dylan rubbed his eyes. ‘Now then, John,’ he said, ‘what can I do for you?’

  ‘Can I sit down?’ John asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Dylan said, feeling encouraged. He guessed the news was good by the big, black gentle giant’s toothy smile.

  ‘Tanya King’s been found,’ he said.

  Dylan blew a long breath out from pursed lips, leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms upwards and linked his fingers together behind his head.

  ‘But …’

  Dylan had always found John to be loyal and calm when the job called for it, but with a temper that he could unleash at any time. He was a father to two children and a keen rugby player. Dylan rated him highly; he’d get the next boards, Dylan was in no doubt. He’d be proud to have Benjamin as a detective sergeant on his team.

  ‘She’s at the hospital. I’ve been informed that all units responded to several calls about an hour ago. A young lad and lass, both semi-conscious, were found laid on a grass verge leading to the dual carriageway into town. At first those attending thought the youngsters might just be drunk or had both overdosed. However, when they got them to the hospital they soon realised that both had been badly assaulted. According to the medical staff they have several other injuries, which they suggest are consistent with both recent and historic violent sexual abuse.’

  Dylan grimaced. ‘Do we know where the lad lives?’

  ‘They’re both from Field Colt Children’s Home, sir. As you’re aware, Dawn is covering for the DI over at CPU this week and she’s been called out.’ Benjamin made a move to stand. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on, shall I? She’ll be calling in here prior to going to the hospital. In fact,’ he said, looking at his watch, ‘she should be here any minute.’

  ‘Teenagers, they think they’re streetwise …’

  John nodded in agreement.

  ‘But sadly, there will always be those who take advantage.’

  ‘On a positive note, though, have you heard that the other missing girl, Tiffany Shaw, is back home? Tail between her legs, apparently. Uniform are round at the house now hoping to find out where she’s been,’ John raised his eyebrows, ‘and who she’s been with.’

  ‘No, no I hadn’t heard, but then I’m not officially here … working that is.’

  ‘I find it hard when I’m off duty to put the job out of my head too, especially when it’s an ongoing incident …’ John said as he turned to walk out of the office.

  ‘Yes, but you must, John. Otherwise you’ll end up living for the work … And, as a wise man once told me, I must work to live. It’s just a job at the end of the day …’ Dylan said, to himself as much as to the DC.

  Before John could leave, Dawn arrived at the office.

  ‘Well, all I can say is, if you do have to get out of your bed, Dylan’s office is at least decently furnished, with a good carpet and comfortable chairs, unlike mine in the CPU.’

  Her straight face and her wicked sense of humour could warm even the coldest of nights. The men rose to greet her.

  ‘It’s like walking into the land of the bloody giants with you two. For goodness’ sake, just sit yourselves down, can’t you?’

  ‘What’s the news, then, Dawn?’ Dylan said, sitting back down.

  ‘News is that Nick Towler and Tanya are just the latest kids to be hired out by Field Colt Children’s Home as “entertainment” for parties given by the rich. These are usually large, private house parties. Maybe we’ll learn more about what has happened to them if we can gain their confidence and get them to open up and talk to us,’ said Dawn.

  John looked from Dylan to Dawn.

  ‘We’ve come to be made aware of these sorts of “parties” more and more recently, but it appears that, up until now, those connected to them have been too frightened of possible reprisals to speak to us. And without their statements there’s nothing we can do,’ said Dawn. She’d somehow managed to drop her biscuit into her coffee while dunking it and was now busy chasing it around with a spoon. ‘I’ve been told that if the kids speak out or say anything negative about the home, then they are moved on to another one. It’s hard enough for these kids to form any kind of relationship with each other, let alone the people who are supposed to care for them. Being constantly moved around leaves them feeling even more isolated, so apparently, according to my little friend who’s a cleaner at Field Colt, they put up and shut up!’ With a look of great satisfaction, she popped the retrieved soggy biscuit into her mouth.

  ‘The protectors are turning out to be the abusers, then. They’re probably only drawn to the job because they’re sick individuals who get their kicks out of abusing kids,’ said Dylan. His tired face was puffy and grey.

  John appeared thoughtful. ‘Or might it be possible that someone is getting paid handsomely to farm these kids out?’

  Dylan sighed and shook his head resignedly. ‘And no doubt the heads of the children’s homes involved all know each other and won’t waste any time in calling them troublemakers in order to justify their continual movement.’

  Dawn looked at Dylan. ‘It’s a vicious circle.’ Her brow furrowed. ‘Do you remember Larry mentioning Tanya at the briefing, saying that he’d ejected her from an off-licence last night? He said she’d told him she was going out with a lad called Tariq? What do we know about Tariq?’

  Dylan looked at John. He shrugged his shoulders.

  Dawn scribbled a note in her book.

  ‘Ask her,’ said Dylan to Dawn.

  ‘I’ve just made a note. Trouble is these kids are allowed out and about unsupervised and they mix with undesirables who end up grooming them.’

  ‘I guess the kids think it’s a case of better the devil they know? At least that way their destination is in their own hands – or so they like to think,’ said John.

  ‘The suggestion is, at least according to my friend the cleaner who often overhears the kids talking, that the kids at Field Colt are regularly invited to these parties. Basically, it sounds like they’re supplied on demand, just like you and I would ring up and order a takeaway.’

  Dylan picked up his pen, his right hand twitched and he tapped it on the desk. ‘This suggests to me we might be hitting on a network that’s been around for a while, and right under our very noses.’ The others agreed. ‘If the offenders have a direct contact inside the home – and it must be someone in authority so as not to arouse any suspicion – we need to find out precisely who that person is.’ Dylan wrote on a piece of paper which he’d extracted from his printer.

  ‘Number one, I want you to collate as much evidence as possible, as quickly as possible. Number two, we need to speak to all residents and staff; and number three, log all the incidents we’ve been made aware of in the past in relation to Field Colt, even if they have come to nothing. Get your coat, Dawn. I’m coming with you to the hospital. I want to hear what Tanya and Nick have to say first-hand.’

  Dawn looked at Dylan, noticing the huge dark rings that had formed around his eyes. ‘Why not go ho
me, eh? Get some rest. I’ll take it from here and I’ll speak to you tomorrow morning. You look all in.’

  Dylan appeared not to hear her, or simply chose not to. ‘We’ve got someone experienced talking to Tiffany, haven’t we?’

  ‘Yes, Kelly Armstrong. She’s good. We can rely on her to get to the bottom of whatever’s been going on.’

  Dylan rose from his chair, but the sheer effort it took generated a groan from deep inside him. He opened his drawer and took out a packet of paracetamol and a can of Coca-Cola, popping two pills from their plastic covering. The Coke fizzed as he opened it and he swallowed the pills down in two huge gulps.

  ‘Right, what are we waiting for?’ he said to Dawn.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The accident and emergency department was the latest part of the old Harrowfield General Hospital building to have been relocated, redesigned and thoroughly modernised. Dylan stepped through the automatic sliding doors into the bright and airy, well-planned triage area and remembered the shabby old canteen which had once stood on that very spot.

  The detectives waited for over an hour, before they finally heard that Nick Towler had been seen by a doctor and had had all the necessary scans.

  ‘He needs emergency surgery,’ announced a nurse, before fleeing to an alarm raised by a colleague. ‘Excuse me,’ she said, squeezing past Dawn and quickly disappearing behind one of the cubicle’s dark green curtains, which opened slightly to reveal the bare soles of two soiled feet.

  The ward where the detectives waited had been broken up into twenty separate cubicles. The curtain behind which Nick Towler was being treated was parted slightly. They glimpsed the doctor through the gap, looking somewhat flustered. A sudden cry came from within, followed by the doctor’s raised voice. ‘I’m trying to save your life, man! Listen to me!’ Towler was refusing to have a tube inserted into his body while he was still awake. The doctor rushed to restrain his patient with outstretched hands, one palm steadying the rising teenager, the other attempting to hold him down.