The Last First Time

by Andrea Bramhall

  “I’ll take that as a yes.” Stella grinned and wrapped her fingers around Kate’s hand. “Any chance you can turn off the lights? My fucking head’s banging.”

  “No worries, Stella.” The overhead light blinked out before she even moved from Stella’s side. She looked over her shoulder, mouthed the words “thank you” to Gina, and offered her a smile. “That better?”

  “Hmm.” Stella’s face seemed to relax a bit more. “Thanks.” The slur made it sound more like “fanks” than anything else, but the tension around her eyes seemed to have eased.

  Kate patted her hand and sat back down.

  “Asleep again?” Gina whispered.

  Kate nodded and picked her cup up off the windowsill. “Yeah.” She checked her watch. Almost an hour since they’d been seen by the triage nurse. Where the fuck was the doctor?

  “She’ll be okay.” Gina kept her voice quiet.

  Kate smiled. “I know. She’s tough as old hobnails, that one.”

  Gina chuckled softly. “Don’t let her hear you say old.”

  Kate sniggered. “Only on purpose.”

  They let the quiet envelop them. The sound of soft breath and the gentle rustle of fabric as they breathed were only disturbed by the muted hum of the hospital running at full tilt outside the door.

  “I don’t know what to tell Sammy about all this.”

  Kate gulped down the mouthful of coffee she’d just taken. “What do you want to tell her?”

  “Nothing.” Gina laughed bitterly. “But that’s not going to happen. Everyone in the village will know in no time, and it’ll get back to her.”

  “So tell her the truth.”

  “She’s nine!”

  “And a lot tougher and stronger than probably both of us.”

  “I repeat, she’s nine!”

  Kate smiled, thinking of the tow-headed child who showed just how mischievous and childlike she was in one breath and then possessed a wisdom and strength beyond anything you had any right to expect from a kid her age. Her blue eyes, so like Gina’s, would stare up at you innocently, then crinkle with a wicked grin as she ran off to another adventure, Merlin at her heels. Kate wrapped her arm around Gina’s shoulders and tugged her in close.

  “Tell her the truth, just the PG version of you living through an explosion. If she can see you’re all right, she’ll be okay.”

  “She’ll have nightmares again.”

  “Probably. For a while. But we’ll deal with that, and she’ll get over them. She’ll be okay.”

  “You really think so?”

  Kate pressed a tender kiss to the side of Gina’s head. “No doubt she’ll demand having the last week off school to recover from the news. But other than attempting manipulation, she’ll be fine.”

  “She calls it negotiation.”

  “She can call it whatever she likes, babe. It’s manipulation, plain and simple.”

  Gina sighed. “I know.”

  “And I love her more for every bloody attempt she makes.” She took hold of Gina’s hand. “Sammy’s a character, full of piss and vinegar, as my gran would’ve said. I can’t make my mind up if she’s going to end up a master criminal or a bloody good cop—”

  “Maybe both.”

  “God help us all. But either way, life would not be the same without that kid of yours around.” She leaned forward and kissed Gina’s lips lightly. “And I happen to really like the life we’re building right now.”

  “Negotiations and all?” Gina smirked, and Kate rolled her eyes.

  “Negotiations and all.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No need to thank me.” She gazed deep into Gina’s eyes, wanting to make sure Gina heard her, and more importantly, believed her as she said, “I love you.”

  Gina laid her head on Kate’s shoulder, snuggling as close as she could. “I love you too.” She held her arms over her stomach as Kate wrapped her arm around her back and held her close.

  “I know you’re trying to steal my warmth.”

  “I never would.”

  Kate moved quickly; she took off her coat, wrapped it around Gina’s shoulders, and tucked her back against her side in seconds. “Better?”

  “Much.”

  “Good.” She kissed the top of Gina’s head. “So, while you were gone, I had a look through Pat’s bag.”

  “I assumed you’d have to. Did you find the letter?”

  Kate nodded.

  “Did you open it?”

  Kate nodded again.

  “Well, I guess we can’t give it to George now.”

  Kate smiled. “Well, when the investigation is over, perhaps we can give him the original, but not right now.”

  Gina nodded slowly and stared into her mug. “I guess it was a stupid idea to think I could try to find him and give it to him like she asked.”

  Kate held her breath. Shit. Now she felt like she had to help. “No, it wasn’t. It was lovely to agree to do something for someone so badly hurt.”

  “She was dying, Kate. You can say it. I’m not going to fall apart on you.”

  “Okay. It was lovely of you to give a dying woman some peace in her final moments.”

  “But you think actually doing it’s a stupid idea.”

  Danger. Danger! Beware girlfriends bearing that tone. Kate swallowed. “No. I’m not sure how realistic a goal it is, but I don’t think it’s stupid to want to try.”

  “Kate, you’re a police officer. Of course you can find him.”

  Boom. That’s the bit she didn’t want to get pulled into. “He isn’t someone we’re investigating, and he won’t be someone we investigate as part of this case. I can’t use police resources to try and find him, Gina. That’s an invasion of privacy and a violation of police ethics. Not to mention illegal. I could lose my job and face a prison term if I try to do something like that.”

  “You’re joking?” Gina’s face paled, and Kate shook her head. “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of that. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Kate took hold of her hand and rubbed it between hers. “I’m sorry I can’t do that for you.”

  “No, I don’t want you to get into trouble. God. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s fine. Really.”

  “No, it’s not. I just wish there was some way to try and find him.”

  Kate could see the tears welling in Gina’s eyes. “Why is this so important to you?”

  “Because I promised—”

  “No, I mean right now. There’s so much else going on. Why this? Why right now?”

  Gina sniffed and looked down at the floor. “When I was in the shower, I kept thinking about what happened and how today could have ended up so different. If I’d been stood where Pat was instead of where Stella and I were…I’d still be there now. And it just kept going around and around in my head. I can’t change what happened to Pat. I can’t change what happened to anyone, and as awful as this will sound, I’m so fucking glad I was standing where I was today and not somewhere else.” She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I’m so fucking happy that I’m still here, still alive, that Stella’s going to be okay, because I know damn well she’s gonna be. And I can’t stop being happy about that, but I feel fucking awful for that.”

  “For being happy you’re alive?”

  She shrugged. “For being happy I wasn’t in Pat’s place.”

  “Ah,” Kate whispered quietly. Survivor guilt was a powerfully destructive emotion. She’d seen people survive accidents only to go and self-destruct soon afterwards with pills and booze, with drugs and guilt. Was this need to find George, to give him Pat’s letter, Gina’s way of assuaging that guilt? Her way of apologising? Or simply her way of taking her mind off it all? Did it matter? It was a hell of a lot better than wallowing. “Well, we can. If you want to.” She looked over at Stella again. A reflex that felt like it was becoming a habit.

  “I don’t understand. You just said you couldn’t find him for me.”

  �
�No, I said I can’t use police resources to find him for you. But anything that the public have access to is, well, public.”

  “Okay, but how does that help us?”

  Kate smiled. “He has a pretty unusual name, sweetheart. An Internet search might bring something up. Give us a place to start.”

  “George Boyne? I didn’t think that was so unusual.”

  “His middle name’s Xavier.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “It says so on the back of the photo.”

  “Oh, right. Well, okay. So, what do we do?”

  “Are you sure you want to do this now? There’s no rush.”

  “Now’s good. Why are you stalling?”

  “I just want to make sure you’ve got… I don’t know how to put this diplomatically, so just bear with me, and don’t get annoyed. Okay?”

  Gina frowned but nodded for her to continue.

  “Last time you went through something traumatic, you needed time to process what happened. To adjust and get used to it. It took me a long time to realise what was going on, because I wasn’t thinking about the experience from a civilian perspective, just from my own. And that was wrong. I don’t want to make the same mistake again. If you need time, I want to make sure you have it. If you need to talk, I’m here to listen… Or we can call Jodi, if that works better for you. Whatever you need.”

  Gina leant forward and kissed her cheek. “Thank you, but I’m fine. I really am.” She sipped the last of her drink and tossed the cup into the wastepaper bin in the far corner of the room, pumping her fist when it landed dead centre of the receptacle. “I want to do all we can, as civilians, to try and find this guy and give him the letter Pat wrote for him. So teach me how to find people.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “Okay.” Kate pulled her smartphone from her pocket and handed it to Gina. “Fire it up,” she said with a smile.

  Gina pressed the button.

  “Open up a web browser, and we’ll just try googling his name first off.”

  Gina’s fingers flew over the keyboard, and they paused, waiting for the results. “I thought you said it was an unusual name. We’ve got tons of matches.” Gina pointed at the screen.

  “Less than a thousand. Trust me, that’s a good result.”

  “Jesus. And I thought your job was so exciting.”

  Kate laughed. “Nope. Most of the time it’s boring as hell.”

  “So how come you get hurt so much?”

  Kate shrugged. She didn’t, not really. Just bumps and scrapes mostly, just like everyone else. Except for the hulking great behemoth of a bloke who hit her a couple of weeks ago. And the sinking houseboat she got stuck in a couple of months back. The stitches and hypothermia hadn’t been too much fun. “Just lucky I guess.” She offered Gina a cheeky grin and pointed at the screen. “I’ll bet any money that a lot of these hits are the same guy, because that really is an unusual name.”

  “So I just click on one and see if it’s what we’re after?”

  “Yup.”

  Gina followed the top link and the Facebook page for a George X. Boyne popped up. He looked to be around eighteen or nineteen. “Not our guy.”

  “Nope. To have been Pat’s lover, we’re looking for someone in the early to midseventies, I’d expect. But this guy could be a relation. Families often recycle through the same names. Women call their babies after fathers or grandfathers. Even great-grandfathers sometimes. And names like George, James, William, John—well, they never seem to go out of fashion for long.”

  “So, do I message him?”

  Kate blanched. “No. We try the other links first.”

  “But some of these are from years ago. I mean, look at this one. It’s a newspaper article from five—no six—years ago.”

  “Follow it. When you’re looking for older people, their web presence may well be historic, and places like Facebook and Twitter aren’t where they tend to hang out.”

  “That’s rather ageist, Detective Sergeant Brannon.”

  Kate chuckled. “Maybe. But unfortunately the figures speak for themselves. While not unheard of, people of the age we expect Mr Boyne to be are a tiny percentage of registered users on social media.”

  “Hmm. I still think you’re being ageist.”

  “Well, I might be, but take a look at that.” She pointed to the screen and a picture of a tall man in police uniform stared back at them. “Commissioner Charles Xavier Boyne on his retirement as the East of England Commissioner of the Independent Police Complaints Commission.” She whistled.

  “So he’s a policeman?”

  Kate shook her head. “No, the IPCC Commissioners are recruited from a nonpolicing background to ensure they’re independent for the review.”

  “And he retired six years ago.”

  “Yes.”

  “So that would make him the right age.”

  “Approximately.”

  “So, how do we find him now?”

  Kate laughed. “So eager. First we have to make sure he’s the only one of these hits that fits the profile we’re looking for. If there are others, then we’ll need to investigate them a little more too. We need to reduce the investigative pool.”

  “We are if we just focus on him.”

  “But we may be wasting resources investigating him when it’s a different George Boyne. While we’re just clicking buttons on a screen, all we’re wasting is a little time. If we focus on this guy, go and see him, and it turns out to be the wrong one, then we’ve wasted a lot more, and we’re back to where we started.”

  “More boring police work?”

  “Yup. I told you my job isn’t all glitz and glamour.”

  “I didn’t believe you until now.”

  “Thanks,” Kate said with a chuckle. “So, the next link?”

  The next link turned out to be the younger George Boyne on a skateboard, tagged in a picture on Instagram. The fourth took them back to the older George’s independent review on a large child abuse case in Cambridge ten years ago. The next three all turned out to be other reports his commission published.

  “I think this is Pat’s George.” Gina said.

  “What makes you so sure?” Kate asked, having already arrived at that conclusion too.

  “He looks like someone she’d like.”

  Kate snickered. “You only knew her for five minutes. How do you know what kind of man she’d like?”

  Gina tipped her nose in the air haughtily. “I just do.”

  “Right,” Kate responded. “Not sure that would stand up in court, sweetheart.”

  Gina pinched her arm. “Doesn’t have to.”

  “Ow.” Kate rubbed her arm.

  “So how do we find out more about him?”

  “What do you want to know?”

  “I feel like I’m being schooled. Is this how you work with Gareth and Jimmy?”

  Kate shook her head. “No, they’ve already done the basics at the academy and when they were in uniform.”

  Gina sighed. “Well, can we find out where he lives?”

  “You can see if he’s in the phone book.”

  “But I don’t know which area to look in.”

  Kate pointed to the computer again. “Online phonebook has all listed numbers across the country. You don’t need a specific directory for each district. You just put in a location, and it will do the rest.”

  “But I don’t know the location.”

  “True. But we can start taking educated guesses.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, if he worked the IPCC in the east of England, then it would stand to reason that he lives or lived in the east of England. So we start with places like Bury St. Edmunds, Cambridge, Ipswich, Norwich, then work our way down.”

  “I didn’t know that. Should you be teaching me this stuff?”

  “I’m not teaching you anything that isn’t in the public domain. You could probably find a YouTube tutorial that shows y
ou all the same tips.”

  “The Internet really is a wonderful thing.”

  “In the right hands. In the wrong hands, it’s a bloody nightmare.”

  “But there’s no guarantee he’s even in the phone book.”

  “Nope.”

  “So this might be a big waste of time?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Is there any other choice?”

  “We can look at the electoral register, but, again, without an area, we’re shooting in the dark.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “At least we’ll know that he probably is registered to vote, while he might be ex-directory and not in the phone book.”

  “Yes.”

  “And given his job as the police complaints commissioner, he’d be daft not to be ex-directory. So we can use a website like 192.com to look through the electoral register.”

  Gina tapped away at the miniature keyboard and quickly pulled up the site. “Okay, name me some cities in the east of England.”

  “Peterborough.”

  Gina tapped the keyboard and waited for the site to tell her there were no records meeting her search criteria. Leicester. No records. Milton Keynes. Northampton. Bedford. Ipswich. All no records.

  Kate could see Gina was getting frustrated. It was something she was used to. “Cambridge,” Kate said. “Try Cambridge next.”

  Gina tapped the smartphone heavily and laughed loudly when the result came back. A single entry in a table. George X. Boyne. “We found him. We found him.”

  “Looks like it.” Kate grinned at the exuberance on Gina’s face. She looked so happy. Proud of herself.

  “How do I get his address?”

  “You have to register and pay to get the address.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, it’s been pretty damn easy to find out where this guy is. At least if you have to pay something and register your details, then they could track you if you turned out to be a crazy stalker.”

  “Ah, Gina. If only it were so easy.”

  Gina frowned.

  “Well, the crazy stalker types, unfortunately, use fake details and usually a stolen credit or debit card for the transaction.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Yup. Like I said, in the wrong hands, this is a nightmare.”

  Gina nodded like it was beginning to make sense to her too. The power of the Internet truly was a double-edged sword. Everything they knew, some criminal out there knew it too, and usually more of it. Give them a head start with knowledge, and sometimes they were impossible to catch. Other times, the police had the information, just too much to make heads or tails of it. Overloaded and buried in data. Damn Internet.