Hunting Shadows

by Bugler, Sheila

  Except …

  No. He had to stop those thoughts. It wasn’t easy, though. It was Marion’s fault. She was making things so difficult. Making him doubt himself, start to wonder if he might have made a mistake after all.

  Unbidden, other images came to him then. Molly. A pretty little girl. Even after he’d worked it all out, realised she wasn’t Marion, even then, he’d never meant for her to get hurt. If only she’d listened, kept quiet like he’d told her to. Instead of carrying on the way she did – screaming and crying and making all that noise. It wasn’t like he hadn’t warned her.

  That’s women for you, Brian. Never listen to a word you say. Bitches, every last one of them.

  He shook his head, trying not to listen.

  ‘Shut up!’ he hissed. ‘Just shut up!’

  But once Daddy got started there was no stopping him.

  You’ve done it this time, boy. A right royal mess you’ve got yourself into. She’s tricking you. Are you so stupid you can’t see that?

  ‘No!’ The roar out of him was louder than he’d meant and a group of children coming along the path towards him stopped suddenly and looked at him. He brushed past, ignoring them, all his efforts focussed on blocking out that relentless sound of Daddy’s voice, beating away at him.

  He couldn’t shut Daddy up completely but if he tried, really hard, he was able to ignore the voice. It was a bit like turning the volume down on the radio – the noise was still there, but not so loud that it interfered with anything else you were doing.

  The best way to turn the volume down was to think about nice things. Like Marion and all the things they’d get up to together over the next few months. There was so much to look forward to now that she was back.

  He smiled, feeling better now. It was all going to be okay. There was a bakery he passed on the way home every evening. He’d pop in there later and buy her something special. A few cakes would persuade her to tell him where she’d been all these years. It was worth a try.

  He zipped his jacket back up and turned around. Time to get back to work. The sooner he finished, the sooner he could get off home. To Marion. She’d be all happy when she saw the cakes. They could make an evening of it, sitting on the bed, eating cakes and chatting away as they watched Rainbow Parade. Just like they used to. It was going to be a great evening. He could hardly wait.

  14:15

  Ellen phoned Abby and arranged to meet Kevin Hudson in his house after lunch. As she drove across, Jim O’Dwyer’s face flickered in and out of her mind with increasing frequency.

  It was that dimple. No it wasn’t. Well, not entirely. There was his body, too. Looked like he worked out. Not a look she’d ever gone for in the past, but every time she saw Jim O’Dwyer she had an almost irresistible urge to sink her teeth into him.

  After the pizza, Pat and Eilish had gone to the toilet and she was left alone with him.

  ‘Would you like to go for that drink sometime?’ he’d asked.

  Was it her imagination or had he seemed nervous?

  ‘Um.’

  Later, she’d pat herself on the back for her quick wit and charm. No wonder he was so keen to go out with her. What man could resist?

  He smiled. ‘Um yes or um maybe?’

  ‘I might have been working up to a no,’ she said.

  ‘Ah, but that would be too cruel,’ he said. ‘Besides, what have you got to lose? Come out for a drink with me, Ellen. Just two old friends having a drink. Nothing heavy, no pressure. If we both enjoy ourselves and don’t find each other’s company too offensive, we may even decide to do it again.’

  She smiled then. Might even have come up with something witty if the kids hadn’t come rushing back right at that minute.

  ‘Let’s make it a maybe,’ she said as Eilish clambered onto her lap. ‘Call me next week.’

  And now, even though she knew she’d hate herself for it, she was already hoping he wouldn’t let her down and not bother to call. She thought she might be gutted if that happened.

  On Dallinger Road, the crowd of journalists seemed to have dissipated slightly, although there were still far too many of them. As she ran towards the house, Ellen heard a woman calling out her name. Recognising the voice, she turned to face a skinny woman with a too-orange tan and too-blonde hair.

  ‘Have you come to arrest him?’ the woman asked. ‘Or is he still helping you with your enquiries?’ As she said the last bit, the woman made quotation marks with her fingers, indicating the phrase was nothing more than a euphemism. If there hadn’t been a gaggle of her counterparts around, Ellen might have slapped her.

  ‘Kevin Hudson’s done nothing wrong,’ Ellen said. ‘And you lot should be ashamed of yourselves, hounding a grieving family like this. Piss off, the lot of you.’

  As if they’d do what she asked. The sooner Ed nailed the senseless git who’d leaked the story, the better. Ellen turned from them in disgust and ran on to the house. This time, there was no need to ring the bell. Abby must have been watching out for her. The door swung open as Ellen approached the house and she let herself inside, grateful to escape the press pack.

  ‘Kevin’s in the garden,’ Abby said. ‘It’s cold out there, but he said he’d rather be outside. He’s a smoker and they don’t smoke inside the house because of the kids.’

  In the garden, Kevin was sitting on a wooden bench, smoking as Abby had predicted. Ellen’s relief at seeing a gas garden heater beside him was short-lived when she realised the heater was switched off.

  ‘Thanks for agreeing to see me,’ she said, sitting beside him on the bench. Immediately, damp started seeping through her jeans and she knew, within minutes, she’d be freezing.

  ‘Cigarette?’ Kevin held out a pack of Marlboros and Ellen took one, grateful for any warmth she could get.

  ‘So,’ Kevin said, once Ellen had lit up, ‘more questions, I take it?’

  ‘I’m not here to set you up,’ Ellen said. ‘Or to trick you into saying something you don’t want to. I’m here because I need your help, Kevin. You see, I don’t think you took Jodie.’

  ‘What do you need?’ he asked.

  She needed him to tell her where the hell he’d been last Monday morning. If she asked him outright, though, she wouldn’t get anywhere. Direct questioning hadn’t worked before, so there was no reason to think it would be any different this time around.

  ‘I want to know about Dan Harris,’ she said instead. ‘I mean, I’ve read the old files but I want to hear your side of things. Can you do that for me?’

  Kevin blew a trail of smoke into the air. Ellen watched it drift upwards and disappear into the grey, late winter afternoon. There was a long pause and Ellen was just thinking of asking a second time when Kevin suddenly started speaking.

  ‘I think our lives are defined by moments,’ he said. ‘A single moment in time that determines everything after it. You don’t know it when it’s happening, it’s only later when you look back, you realise that’s the way it is.’

  Ellen thought of Vinny, lying in the middle of their road, his body crushed from the car that had driven into him deliberately. She knew exactly what Kevin meant.

  Misunderstanding her silence, Kevin gave a half-laugh. ‘Probably talking nonsense,’ he said. ‘I’m just trying to explain, that’s all. After Helen split from Mark she moved to London with the kids. Wanted a fresh start, I suppose.

  ‘She was a friend from way back. I’d known her for years. Always had a thing for her, if I’m honest. I was gutted when she moved to Bristol and married Mark. When I heard she was back in London, I got in touch.

  ‘Just friends at first, but we grew closer over time. I still think if things had turned out differently.’ He paused. ‘Well, no point thinking about that now.

  ‘When she first came to London, Helen had no money. Her parents’ house is tiny so she decided to rent. The only place she could afford was a flat in Downham. The estate was a dump. Ruled by a gang of hooligan kids – all of them on ASBOs but should have
been locked up by rights.

  ‘The first time I stayed over, I couldn’t believe it. These guys were animals. They did all sorts – dogshit through her letterbox, stones through the front window, name-calling every time she went anywhere. Those bastards made her life hell.’

  ‘Why?’ Ellen asked. ‘I’ve been involved in cases like that and I know how stressful it is for the victims, but there’s usually something that triggers it.’

  ‘There was another family on the estate,’ Kevin said. ‘Immigrant family with a disabled child. A teenage girl. She had learning difficulties – not sure what exactly – and a funny way of walking. She couldn’t speak properly, either. Local kids picked on them something terrible. Helen made the mistake of intervening, tried to get them to stop.’

  ‘So they turned on her instead?’ Ellen guessed.

  Kevin nodded. ‘I begged her to leave, move in with me, but she wouldn’t have it. Said she’d already made enough mistakes and we’d move in together when the time was right – if the time was right – and not before then.’

  He stopped.

  ‘I felt I had to protect her,’ he continued quietly. ‘So I started staying over more and more. If I’m honest, I’m not sure either of us were ready for that but, the thing is, I couldn’t bear to think of her facing those bastards on her own.’

  ‘What about the police?’ Ellen asked. ‘Lewisham has a good record of dealing with anti-social behaviour. Surely Helen complained?’

  ‘Oh she complained all right. That was the problem. A policeman came around to the house, took a statement. Did no good, though. Quite the opposite. They really had it in for her after that.

  ‘Harris was the ring-leader. You know, when I think about that time, I’m convinced if it wasn’t for Harris, they’d have left us alone. It was like he was obsessed.’

  Kevin turned to face Ellen. ‘I went out for coffee one evening. Just a jar of coffee, that’s all. She’d run out. Told me it didn’t matter, but I wouldn’t have it. Didn’t see why I should let a group of lowlifes stop me from going across to the local shop. Besides, it was just across the road. Neither of us imagined …’ his voice trailed off.

  Ellen wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the next bit. It was a familiar story, one she’d witnessed time and again in the deprived areas of Lewisham. Families virtual prisoners in their own homes. Their lives ruined by the thugs who ran wild on the council estates across the borough.

  ‘I heard the girl first,’ Kevin said. ‘Crying, pleading with someone. I didn’t know who she was but I went to see what was going on.

  ‘They were down the alleyway that ran behind the row of shops. Harris and two of his mates. They had the girl – the one I told you about. Cassie, her name was. I remember that. Harris was holding her. They’d ripped her top open and were taking photos of her with their phones. Laughing at her. I heard Harris asking if she’d like to take things a bit further. Go somewhere private.’

  Ellen swallowed and tried to think of something to say. Something that wouldn’t sound trite. She couldn’t think of anything.

  ‘I didn’t know what I was doing,’ Kevin said. ‘I just went straight for Harris. At one point, I heard someone screaming, it must have been the girl. The next thing, it was only me and Harris. His mates must have run off. Harris, he was lying on the ground. Not moving. I remember lifting my hands and they were covered in blood.’

  Ellen’s stomach burned as if she’d swallowed acid. There was a lot more she wanted to ask but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Beside her, Kevin continued talking.

  ‘Harris was fifteen years old. Legally, he was a minor. That’s what did it for me. I was sent down for hurting a kid. Police made out like I was some kind of child abuser.’

  ‘Even after you told the police what he’d done?’ Ellen asked.

  ‘We tried our best,’ Kevin said. ‘Helen begged Cassie’s family to come forward, but they were too scared. Said they couldn’t face the consequences of what might happen. They were seeking asylum, you see. Waiting to see if they could stay. Her father said he was sorry, but they didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardise their asylum claim. Helen’s got a pal at Greenwich Station. Dai Davies. She asked him to intervene, but there was nothing he could do.’

  ‘So Harris got away with it?’ Ellen asked.

  Then Kevin did something that surprised her. He smiled.

  ‘For a while. Can’t get away with it forever, though, can he?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just that, Ellen. In the end, everyone gets what they deserve. It’s simply a matter of time.’

  A sudden thought struck her. ‘Is it Harris?’ she asked.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Is he the reason you won’t tell us where you were on Monday?’ One look at Kevin’s face told her she was right. And also that she’d gone about it totally the wrong way.

  ‘You don’t know anything,’ he said. ‘Thought you said you weren’t trying to set me up. You’re a liar. That’s what you are. Just like every other cop I ever met. You don’t really care about me or what happened with Harris. You only came out here to get me to say something you could use against me. Well I’m done talking to you, DI Kelly. I’m going inside now and if you try to stop me, I’ll be on the phone to my solicitor before you’ve even had time to leave.’

  He stood up and walked inside the house. Ellen called after him but it was no good. She could have kicked herself. She’d got so close, only to blow it at the last moment. And now she was left with nothing except a bum so cold she couldn’t even feel it any longer.

  She took her phone out and scrolled through her address book, wondering which of her team to call. Decided on Raj Patel.

  ‘It’s me,’ she said when Raj answered. ‘I need a favour. Can you get some info on Dan Harris? I want to know where he lives, what he does and who his friends are. And as soon as you’ve got all of that information, I want you to call me. Got that?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ Raj said. ‘I’ll get onto it straightaway.’

  Satisfied, Ellen hung up. In the distance, a police siren screamed out. Ellen pictured the police car, rushing through the grey streets on its way to some other tragedy. Another broken life in a city full of broken lives. Tragedy heaped upon tragedy. Nothing ever changed, and probably never would.

  15:30

  Rob checked his watch again. He’d been waiting almost forty minutes. The adrenalin that had driven him until now was gone. He felt tired and dispirited. He’d give it another five minutes. No more than that. If Frankie hadn’t showed by then, he wasn’t coming.

  He’d known all along Frankie mightn’t turn up. Frankie had promised, right enough, but you could never really trust him to do what he said. To call Frankie Ferrari unpredictable would be like Rob describing himself as a bit upset by the events in his life.

  Frankie Ferrari. Rob’s best mate all through primary school. Two little kids bound together by an obsessive love of football and The Beano. It didn’t last, of course. They went to different secondary schools, their lives diverging even further in the years beyond that. Rob met Sheryl, married, had Molly. He worked a regular job and played football on Friday nights with a group of lads from The White Hart. Meanwhile, Frankie went from wild to wilder. Drink first, then drugs. Uppers, downers, inbetweeners. You name it, Frankie was doing it. Encouraged by Sheryl, who said Frankie freaked her out, Rob started seeing Frankie less and less. Got to the point where whole years would go by without the two men meeting up.

  Ten years ago Frankie was arrested and charged with murdering his step-father, Ian. Rob remembered Ian from when they were kids. He hadn’t liked him much, but could never have suspected the abuse Ian had dished out to Frankie over the years. For the first time, Rob thought he understood why his old friend had gone so badly off the rails during his teens and early twenties.

  After Frankie was put inside, Rob started visiting him. Not often. Three times in total. Not nearly enough when you considered B
rixton nick was only a few miles down the South Circular. Still, as Frankie himself said, it was three times more than any other bastard they’d been to school with.

  When Molly died, Rob felt he understood what Frankie had done to Ian. Knew he’d do the same if he ever got his hands on the man who’d killed his baby. On his last visit to Frankie, two years ago, Frankie offered to help track down Molly’s killer ‘and show him what happens to nonces who hurt little girls’.

  At the time, Rob thought it was all talk. And maybe it was. After all, if Frankie had been serious about helping him, surely he’d have turned up today.

  When Rob called Frankie and told him what he needed, Frankie couldn’t have sounded keener. Rob found himself having to talk Frankie down, persuade him they couldn’t go straight over there. Said they needed to make a plan first.

  Except Frankie hadn’t showed.

  Rob was glad he hadn’t given Frankie any details over the phone. It wasn’t like Frankie hadn’t asked, either.

  ‘Just a name, Rob. That’s all. You can fill me in on the rest when we meet.’

  But Rob resisted, knowing if he gave Frankie a name, that would be it. Frankie would go after Hudson himself, a one-man revenge machine, and Rob wouldn’t get a look in. He had half-expected Frankie to think of the news reports about Jodie Hudson and put two and two together, but then, Frankie wasn’t the type to be up on current affairs. Rob didn’t even know if he could read. Wouldn’t be surprised at all if he couldn’t.

  He checked his watch again. Gone half-three now and still no sign. He felt deflated, pulling his jacket tight around him, getting ready to leave.

  He was nearly at the exit when he heard someone calling his name. He turned and saw Frankie, waving frantically, jogging up the hill from the Catford end of the park.

  ‘Rob! Over here, mate!’

  His stomach tightened with anticipation as he ran to greet his old pal. This was it, then. No going back now.