by Liz Mistry
Chapter 61
Lalita hadn’t felt this degree of fear for years, as she waited to hear word from the person she’d phoned. Occasionally over the years, she’d bumped into Downey’s friend Jimbo. They tended to skirt round each other, neither keen to discuss their shared relationship with Downey, yet neither unwilling to ignore the other. Jimbo hadn’t been Downey’s typical thuggish mate. He’d always been respectful to Lalita, and although he hadn’t helped her in any way, she hadn’t held him accountable for Downey’s actions. She was only too well aware of how painful the wrath of Freddie Downey could be.
It had been easy to get a number for Jimbo as he ran his plumbing business from his home. Being more or less a one-man band, the number she got from his rudimentary website, as expected, was answered by the man himself.
For a moment, she had the chance to hang up and forget her plan. She was tempted. Sweat made her palms slick as she gripped her phone to her ear, Jimbo’s voice repeating his earlier greeting. ‘Hallo, hallo, Spring-A-Leak plumbing services, how can I help?’
‘It’s Layla.’ Speaking the name she’d decided years ago never to use again was hard. It was like she was raking it all up again – but it wasn’t her who was raking it up – it was Downey’s presence. The minute she uttered the name, she wanted to wash her mouth out with carbolic soap – scrub and scrub until her tongue was raw. Even to her own ears her voice sounded weak and for a second she thought he hadn’t heard her as her words were met by silence.
Then: ‘Layla?’
She swallowed, no going back now. ‘He’s back, isn’t he?’
To give him his due, Jimbo didn’t prevaricate. ‘Yes, Layla. Yes, he is.’
Having it corroborated was like a gut punch. Of course, she’d known he was back, but still, hearing it made it real. Brought his evil presence into the home she’d worked so hard to make her sanctuary. For long seconds the only sound was of Jimbo’s breathing as he waited for her to speak. When she thought her voice was steady enough, Lalita made her request.
An hour later, her phone rang and she was plummeted back into her past as the familiar voice she’d hoped never to hear again came down the line.
Chapter 62
The main briefing had been just that – brief – and mostly uneventful.
Updates from the child protection team had identified more victims and they were able to match some of them to the nauseating invoices that catalogued what the children had suffered. This should hopefully make it easier to track them down and get them any support they needed and also the justice that had been denied them for so long. This part of the investigation had been taken over by the child protection team, who were better equipped to investigate historic abuse cases. Nikki suspected that, as happened with the Jimmy Savile historic abuse case, more victims would come forward once proceedings were in place and the police had released the details of Hudson’s crimes. For now, though, her team, led by DS Springer, was focusing on the three murders.
Archie and the big boss were hosting a media briefing at lunchtime where they would appeal for information from residents of Gaynor Street from the Eighties and Nineties and they would also reveal that Gerry Hudson was an organised paedophile and that the emphasis was now on making sure that Hudson’s victims receive any counselling and support they needed, but also to identify and prosecute the other paedophiles who were part of his circle.
As Springer sent officers off to continue trawling CCTV footage, Nikki’s experience of looking at CCTV footage for prolonged periods was ingrained in her mind. It was one of those jobs that often seemed pointless and the longer you watched the screens the more likely you were to miss something. Nikki had suggested they rotate the officers scrutinising the screens in two-hourly shifts with instructions to get up and walk round the room every twenty minutes or so. To give her her due, Springer had come on board with the suggestion, although the look she’d directed at Nikki had been less than friendly.
Some of the more “set in their ways” officers had made comments about the uniforms of the day not having the grit and stamina of the old dogs, but Saj jumped in with a: ‘Yeah and we don’t send our kids up chimneys now either’ which resulted in a burst of laughter.
Despite officers being dispatched to question many of Downey’s known acquaintances in the area, nothing had been forthcoming. Either they were wrong and Downey wasn’t in Bradford at all, or, and Nikki suspected this was more likely, no one was prepared to be a snitch. Downey had always had a reputation as being quick to use his fists and it was unlikely he’d changed much over the years.
*
Archie allowed Nikki the use of his office to go over the images that Williams had prepared. With the blinds closed and free from prying eyes, Nikki massaged her aching temples. The envelopes containing Williams’ cropped images lay on the desk, taunting her. She had no desire to open them, no desire to go through them, but she had to. No way could she expect Anika and her mum to look at them if she hadn’t already done so.
When she’d first discovered that her ex-husband Khalid hadn’t left her and Charlie, she’d been relieved. It had been difficult for her to relive that part of her past, but those memories, aside from the time when she thought he’d left her had been, on the whole, happy ones. The past she was being forced to delve into now was the one she kept locked up in that cubbyhole right at the back of her mind and she had no desire to unlock that now. However, she had no choice. There were victims out there who she, as a child back then, couldn’t save, but, as the adult she now was, she was duty bound to find them justice, help, resolution. Who knows what they’d find, but if Nikki understood anything about trauma, it was that facing it could be as difficult as going through it.
She unscrewed the lid off a bottle of chilled water Saj had given her and took a long drink, savouring its coldness as it wet her dry throat. Wiping the few drips from her mouth, she pulled the first envelope towards her. Williams had written in his small spidery scrawl: Cropped perps. The use of the Americanism perp brought a small smile to her lips. Williams was addicted to US cop shows and on occasion it showed.
Pulling the seal apart with shaking hands, Nikki took the photos out. They were face down in her hand, which gave her another moment to calm herself. Then, using the philosophy her mum had always used with plasters – ripping them off fast and in one movement – Nikki flipped them over. There weren’t many. Not every man would have an identifying mark on the parts of the body caught by the photographer, but these six had.
Williams had labelled each image with a number and Nikki discovered that he’d managed to zoom in on a few identifiers from different angles. Nikki focused on these marks: a tattoo of the Yorkshire Rose on a bicep, a large and detailed Celtic pattern on a back, a long scar on a thigh … it went on.
Looking at the images, Nikki felt divorced from them – as if she was on a cloud looking down at them – a sort of out-of-body experience. She didn’t mind it – not right now, not whilst she was doing this, although when she’d experienced this detachment at other times, it had left her feeling disengaged and uninvolved with her family or Marcus. She usually treated it as a sign to slow down, reset her batteries and recuperate. Trouble was, right now that wasn’t an option. She was deep in the middle of this and she needed to get on top of it.
After she’d studied each of the marks, she broadened her gaze – checking that Williams had achieved what he’d promised and produced images that wouldn’t upset the people looking at them. They were tastefully – is that the right word for such monstrosities? – cropped. If she hadn’t already known what these men were doing, these pictures would not be distressing. However, Nikki was all too aware that, to someone who could identify the bearers of these scars and tattoos, the experience would be most horribly upsetting.
She picked up one more – the one with the Celtic design on a man’s back. Williams had allocated that number five. She pushed the other images back in their envelope and pulled a second image also labelled
number five. This one was of a Lion Rampant holding a Scottish flag with the words Scotland Till I Die underneath which had been tattooed onto a white male’s hairy forearm. She didn’t recognise the Celtic design, but Williams had clearly seen these two tattoos on the same man. The Lion Rampant one was familiar – all too familiar to her. Her mother would be able to confirm about the Celtic design, but she was certain that the other one was to be found on Freddie Downey’s forearm. Without warning, her stomach flipped and she reached over, grabbed Archie’s bin just in time and vomited.
When her stomach was empty she leaned back, beads of sweat dappling her brow and rinsed her mouth out with the last of the bottled water. The acrid smell of her stomach contents filled the room and the throbbing in her temple had increased its tempo. She couldn’t look at the rest of the images with that smell in her nostrils, but on the other hand, she wasn’t one hundred per cent sure she wouldn’t need the bin again. Dragging herself to her feet, she went over and peeked through the blinds, checking who was in the incident room beyond. Saj was tapping away on his PC, so she jabbed out a text to him.
Nikki: Been sick in Archie’s bin – clear the room so I can dispose of it – also can I borrow some of your oh dee toilet?
She watched through the blinds as Saj read her text. Saw him shake his head and then look over at the office before walking over and opening the door.
‘Fuck’s sake, that stinks.’
‘I know … I just.’ She shrugged.
‘I know, Nik, it’s hard.’ He walked over, took the bin and left the room with it. Nikki watched him march through the incident room, dodging officers as he went. Seconds later he was back with the bin, spraying some sickly sweet air freshener in Archie’s office.
The interlude had calmed Nikki and now she smiled. ‘That’s nice – new perfume, Saj? Much nicer than your usual.’
‘This one’s Eau de Trafalgar House men’s loos. Not wasting my hundred-quid-a-bottle stuff on Archie’s gaff.’
Settling behind the desk again, she looked at Saj. ‘I owe you one, Saj. Really do.’
He nodded to the envelopes. ‘Want me to stay? I can hold the vomit bucket for you.’
About to shake her head, Nikki changed her mind. Saj would have to view the images anyway, so why not look at them together.
‘I’m just moving on to the kids now.’ She pushed the men’s envelope towards him and then pointed to the two loose images. ‘We’ll need to double-check with my mum, but I remember Freddie Downey with that arm tatt.’
She waited till Saj had sifted through the photos before opening the other envelope. ‘If I recognise anyone, can you take a note of the image number and write down what I remember?’
Saj pulled a chair next to Nikki, positioned a pad of paper and pen in front of him and said, ‘Right, let’s go for it.’
Again, Williams had done a good job. He’d put various images of the same child together and Nikki was relieved to see that once more, he’d managed to avoid any explicit images. She studied each group of photos, taking her time – casting her mind back to the other kids in the street – kids from her class or Anika’s class at school. There were six groups of photos. Only a fraction of abused children, from the hundreds that were catalogued. It wasn’t enough, but along with the Child Protection Unit’s work, it was a start.
Tapping her finger on the group labelled number six, Nikki said, ‘I recognise him – can’t think of his name – he was in the year below me, or maybe even in Anika’s class at middle school – but at least we know he was local at that time.’
As Saj documented her thoughts, she picked the image up. The boy’s round face looked terrified. He wore glasses, but they were lopsided on his nose, his mouth open in a scream. When she looked really closely, Nikki could identify fingertips in his hair – as if his head was being yanked backwards. Piling the photos together, Nikki sniffed and with an effort focused on the next familiar group of images.
This one was of a girl a bit older than the previous boy – maybe around 13. In the first image she was sitting demurely on a chair her head tilted down, her eyes on the camera – posing. That was the photo Nikki recognised her from. The others were of the same girl, but her eyes had lost their cheeky, teasing expression in those. Nikki assumed they’d been taken later. And in the final one, her eyes were closed, a tear rolling down her cheek as if she’d just given up. In a neutral voice, Nikki filled Sajid in. ‘This girl lived down the road from us. Her dad had an ice-cream van – and her name was Georgia. Mum might remember more.
‘These are the only children I recognise, but it was all so long ago and I was only a kid.’
‘You’ve done well, Nik. None of this can be easy for you.’ He put the photos back in the envelope as Nikki slipped into memories that had dark shadows.
‘Shall I tell them to come in?’ He indicated the door where Williams and the rest of the team were waiting.
‘Give me a moment, Saj. Let me collect myself.’
As Saj left, a picture of a snowy night flashed into Nikki’s mind. She was unsure whether something in the photos had prompted it, but it was there clear as day for a few moments. She and Anika on their own, petrified – police outside and – Dexy? She hadn’t thought of, nor heard that name in a long, long time. She couldn’t remember much about him. He’d been around the house a lot – Peggy had also stayed there too sometimes – when she wasn’t high on drugs. Were there other kids too? Frustrated, Nikki shook her head. She was certain she was missing something crucial, but for now, that was all she could remember.
Chapter 63
In the end it had been easy to shake off Ali’s men. Nikki had agreed that while Lalita was at work, she was safe because she was in a public place, so Lalita took advantage of that. She spoke to the two men watching the back of her house and they agreed to escort her to her work and pick her up again at shift’s end. Despite her pounding heart and the overwhelming guilt, Lalita was sure she was doing the right thing. She’d relied on Nikita for too long and now, if she was ever to shake off the curse that Downey had trapped her in, she had to take matters into her own hands. It was risky – of course it was. It was a do-or-die situation. But, regardless of how much she longed to stay in the safety of Listerhills, that just wasn’t an option anymore.
Today she was determined; she would put an end to this once and for all. So, before leaving the house, she went through it all once more in her mind – all the insurances she’d put in place. She didn’t intend to face him blindly and she was relying heavily on the hope that he would be unable to see past the weak girl she’d once been. Her chances were slim, but her careful planning might be enough to save her … She went over to the small Mundir – the Hindu shrine she kept in the corner of the living room, lit the incense and placed her offerings of fruit, before praying as never before to the Lord Ganesha – the remover of obstacles.
Ali’s men followed her small car to Tyersal Library, watched her park up and then waved to her as she entered the building, carrying a slightly larger bag than usual. As they drove off, Lalita looked at their receding silhouette. That was her backup disposed of – now she really was on her own. She waited ten minutes before exiting the library through the front of the building and skirting round to the bus stop as arranged. Within seconds a vehicle drew up beside her. Heart hammering, Lalita, gripping her bag tightly in both hands, raised her eyes and for the first time in over twenty years faced the animal who had fathered her children sitting in the back seat, one of his thugs driving.
She had tried to prepare herself for this, but his cruel grin still took her breath away. Will I be able to do this? He was older now and fatter. The baseball cap seemed to cover a bald pate, but whether by design or old age, Lalita wasn’t sure. His eyes were as cold and mesmerising as they had been when she first met him. The flattered flutter of a young girl’s heart when praised and pursued by an older man was replaced by fear and the realisation of the enormity of her plan. So many variables, so many things
could go wrong.
‘Pleased to see me, Layla?’
His voice was hard, mocking and made her shiver. She looked down and shrugged. How could she respond to that?
The driver leaned back and flicked the back door open as Downey said, ‘Get in, sweetheart. We’re going to take you for a little ride.’
After walking round the vehicle, Lalita got in and attempted to slip her bag onto the floor unnoticed. No such luck.
‘Bag.’ Downey held out his hand, his grin mocking her as her hands fluttered up to her chest. Still avoiding looking directly into his eyes, she picked the bag up and passed it over. Downey took his time sifting through it, chortling to himself as he did so. ‘Well, well, well. Looks like little old Layla’s acquired a bit of a spine. Look what we’ve got.’ One by one he took the items from the bag and lined them up on the seat between them. First the pepper spray, followed by the kitchen knife, followed by the Taser.
‘Really, Layla. You didn’t think I’d check for weapons? You’re still as stupid as you always were. But, I’ll have to make you pay for that little act of disobedience. You remember how I used to punish you, Layla?’
Head bowed, subservient, Lalita nodded, sniffing, and mumbled, ‘I’m sorry. So sorry. I was scared.’
But her pleas were in vain and as Downey’s fist slammed into the side of her head, Layla wondered why she’d thought she could ever beat this monster.
Downey’s phone rang and he answered it, not even sparing a glance towards Layla, who lay in a crumpled, sobbing heap beside him. Smiling, he hung up after listening for a couple of minutes. ‘Looks like we’re on. My spies have come up with the goods – let’s drive.’
Chapter 64
Anwar jumped up from her seat and punched the air before doing a little dance. Nikki and Saj exchanged a surprised look. Anwar was not usually given to outward shows of emotion like this and the fact that she’d allowed herself to jump around showed that whatever she’d discovered was something that might progress their investigation. Used to being in charge, Nikki got up, intending to go over to Anwar’s desk and find out what her excitement was all about, but was beaten to it by Springer’s voice peeling out over the room. ‘I hope that your performance means you’ve found something useful, DC Anwar.’