by Diane Capri
Lorne nodded. “Can I ask what you did over the weekend? I mean, did you go there as usual this weekend?”
His smile slipped momentarily, but to Lorne’s surprise, he cast a nervous eye over the gathering crowd and quickly reinstated it. “Hmm… Let me think,” he said, keeping his adoring fans on tenterhooks.
Sensing this was the right time to challenge him she asked, “Think up a suitable lie, you mean?”
His brow furrowed. He let go of the two girls and took a step toward Lorne, possibly intending to intimidate. “Meaning?” he retorted, matching her sharp tone.
She stood her ground. “Why don’t we tell your colleagues where you spent Saturday night, for instance?”
Lorne observed the crowd, who in turn were eyeing Gibson with more than a touch of interest.
He fidgeted with his tie, pulling the knot tight up under his chin. “Saturday, you say? Now, where was I?”
Lorne played along for a few seconds, then started making the sound of a police siren, just for fun. “Does that help?” she asked, innocently fluttering her lashes. Above the noise of the camera shutter, she heard Tony snort.
“Who the fuck are you, lady?” He looked as though his poise had been made of porcelain and someone had just tapped it, shattering it into a million tiny pieces.
“Ah, finally the penny has dropped, Mr. Gibson. I take it you aren’t going to enlighten your colleagues about your activities on Saturday night, after all?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Lorne saw Tony lower the camera, his stance ready for a possible attack by Gibson.
“Get the fuck out of here. You have no right being here. Someone call security to get this pair of lowlifes out of here.”
Lorne leaned in. “A name that would suit you more than us, I fear, Gibson. Either you tell them, or I will. Which do you prefer?” she asked in a hushed voice.
A snarl tugged at his mouth. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“A word of warning, Mr. Gibson: I always rise to a challenge.”
He folded his arms and tapped his foot, challenging her further.
“Very well. As my friend here isn’t willing to divulge his weekend activities to his workmates, I’ll do it for him.” The chattering of the crowd died down.
Once she had everyone’s attention, Lorne asked, “Perhaps you’d like to share with your workmates what the food is like in a police cell?”
Gasps rippled through the crowd as expressions changed from joyfulness to shock.
Lorne gazed back at Gibson; his eyes were squeezed tightly shut. Seconds later, they flew open, and the rage was evident for all to see. “Bitch. I repeat: Who the fuck are you?”
Lorne smirked and handed him a business card. “I think you know who I am already, as your mate at the nightclub has probably already contacted you, but in case your memory is a tad rusty, here you go.” For those surrounding them, she added, “I, Mr. Gibson, am your worst nightmare. Do you want to tell your colleagues the circumstances behind your unintentional stay at the nick?”
He crumpled the card and dropped it on the floor, then scraped one of his hands through his short hair. Lorne got the impression that, had his hair been longer, he would have tugged clumps of it out by its roots in frustration.
Before Gibson could answer, a voice boomed out across the office. “What the bloody hell is going on here? I’ve told you before, this ain’t no kindergarten. Get on with your work.”
The crowd scattered, albeit reluctantly, to reveal a steel-grey haired man in a crisp white shirt and pinstriped trousers. He walked towards them, frowning. “Gibson?”
Lorne heard the rapist gulp and watched the colour enflame his cheeks. “Er… Sorry, Mr. Johnson. These people were just leaving.”
Lorne seized the opportunity to embarrass Gibson further. Holding out her hand, she approached Mr. Johnson. “I’m Lorne Simpkins. Sorry about this. We’ll be out of your hair soon. I just need to ask Mr. Gibson here a few questions.”
The man’s confused gaze slipped between Lorne and Gibson. “Questions? Are you the police?”
“Ah, I used to be. Former detective inspector in the Met, actually. Now, I’ve gone private, you might say.”
“I see, I think. And what, might I ask, do you want with Gibson here?” Gibson opened his mouth to speak, but Johnson stopped him with a hand motion. “I was asking the nice young lady, not you.”
Nice young lady. Lorne chuckled inwardly. Well, she hadn’t been called that in a while.
“Actually my partner and I wanted to know why Mr. Gibson here takes it upon himself to threaten young women.” Lorne glanced around the room and saw several women’s heads drop back to the work in front of them. Obviously, some of them had already had Gibson’s unwanted attention heaped upon them. While a few of his colleagues fawned all over him, others clearly kept their distance.
“Threaten? In what respect?” Johnson snapped back.
“Apart from sending me threatening emails and making similar calls, my client has already been threatened.” Lorne was careful not to mention the rapes because of the lack of evidence in Linda and Ami’s cases.
“Is this true, Gibson?” Johnson’s tone brokered no nonsense.
“I haven’t… When?” Gibson blustered.
“Come now, Gibson. Do we really have to tell your boss where you spent Saturday night?”
Johnson looked at Lorne. “Tell me,” he ordered bluntly.
“Can’t we do this privately?” Gibson asked, surveying the office.
“I don’t mind, either way. On second thoughts, you were eager to share your news with your colleagues before when you thought we were reporters. What’s the problem now? Afraid they’ll see you in a different light?”
“Here is just fine. Please tell me what Gibson has done.” Johnson demanded impatiently.
Gibson collapsed into his chair, placed his elbows on the table, and buried his head in his hands as Lorne told his boss what he’d been up to.
“What?” Johnson shouted in disbelief. He scowled at his employee, who was purposefully avoiding any form of eye contact.
“It’s true, I’m afraid,” Lorne insisted.
Johnson was shaking his head in disgust when he asked Lorne, “You say the unfortunate victim is your client?”
“No, I’ve yet to speak to the victim. I’ve known about Gibson’s penchant for threatening and attacking women for a few weeks, now. My client’s sister and her friend were assaulted by him. Unfortunately, there was little evidence for the police to bring charges. Gibson is—or was—very clever in that he covered his tracks well. After his latest victim on Saturday night, though, the Crown Prosecution Service will now have to look at all three cases and any others that arise in the meantime. Once news of the case gets leaked to the local newspaper, it’s not uncommon for other victims to get in touch with the police to state they have been attacked by him too.” She told Johnson hoping that her words would scare the crap out of Gibson.
Gibson thrust his chair back with such force that it tipped over. He marched over to Lorne.
Tony stood in front of her and warned, “Back off, shit face.”
“It’s lies, all lies.”
“And why would these women lie about a thing like that, Gibson?” Johnson asked, sounding perplexed.
“Envy, jealousy, call it what you will,” Gibson retorted venomously.
Lorne admired the way Johnson was standing up to Gibson. Despite the family’s reputation, the man obviously didn’t care or worry about the consequences.
“That’s bullshit. You know what? I’ve had it up to here with you. The last few months, you’ve screwed up that many accounts, and I’ve brushed them under the carpet. I’m sick to death of giving you one more second chance. Pack up your desk. As of now, you’re suspended for the rest of the week, at least. I’ll see how the board of directors view these charges and ring you on Friday,” Johnson told him, then said to Lorne, “I appreciate you coming here today and informing us of this incident. Thi
s firm will not tolerate such abhorrent behaviour from its employees.”
“Believe me when I say the pleasure was all mine, Mr. Johnson.” Lorne smiled at the man and glanced over at Gibson, who was busy collecting his belongings, muttering expletives under his breath. “Our work is done. Oh, and if any of you ladies have had an altercation with Gibson in the past, I’ll leave my card on the desk here. We’ll be going now. Thanks for your time.” She held up a card and placed it on the desk beside Johnson before turning back in the direction of the lift.
“Good riddance,” Gibson called after them.
Lorne chuckled when she heard an irate Johnson tongue-lashing Gibson as they left.
“It’s not been a good few days for Gibson, has it?” Tony said during the journey back down in the lift.
“Let’s hope the next few months are hell for him. I just hope the girls will be strong enough to face him in court.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Six months later.
Lorne raced around before the sun rose up in the morning sky. This was the day Gibson would hopefully get his comeuppance.
There was a lot of work to do around the Rescue Centre before she could set off for the courthouse. Although her father had said that he would see to the day-to-day running of the centre, the past few weeks, he’d struggled to stay on top of the daily chores. She should never have put the onus on him at his age. She’d taken some well-deserved flak from her sister, Jade, for putting their father under too much stress.
Lorne ran across the courtyard and back into the house. “Come on, Tony! What’s keeping you?” Lorne called up the stairs.
A disgruntled Tony slowly made his way down the stairs. His face was pale, and beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. “I’ll do what I can, love, but I’m not feeling a hundred percent.”
He reached the bottom step.
She felt his cheek and forehead, turned him around, and patted his bottom. “Go on back to bed. Let me go finish with the animals, and then I’ll come and tend to you and Dad. Looks like you’ve got the same bug Dad picked up.”
“Well, if you’re sure. I’ll see you later,” Tony croaked.
Lorne forced herself up a gear. By seven thirty, she had all the dogs fed and watered. The kennels could be cleaned later, after she returned from her day in court.
At eight o’clock, she rustled up some cereal and toast and took them in to her father. His ashen face creased in pain as he sat up in bed. Lorne placed the cushioned tray in front of him and refilled the water glass by his bed. “Feeling any better, Dad?”
“Worst bug I’ve ever had. It has drained me of all my energy. I’m sorry to let you down, love. I know you were relying on me, especially with what’s going on today. Tony’s lending a hand though, right?”
Lorne shook her head. “No worries, Dad. Everything’s in hand. Tony seems to have come down with the same bug. He looks awful as well. I sent him back to bed. Look, eat what you can to try to keep your strength up. I’ll take Tony up his breakfast and call back to get your tray in a little while. Do you need anything else?”
“Not for now. Thanks, love. Sorry I’m so useless at the moment.”
She pecked her father’s cheek. “Nonsense, Dad. I’m sorry I lumbered you with this place at your time of life when you should be taking things easy. See you in a few minutes.”
Lorne left her father and rushed through to the kitchen to prepare Tony’s breakfast, but the ringing telephone interrupted her.
She didn’t hesitate to answer it; there hadn’t been any threatening calls since they’d visited Gibson at his place of work. “Hello?”
“Hi, Lorne. It’s Katy. All set for the big day, are you?”
Lorne carried the phone through to the kitchen and continued to prepare Tony’s breakfast. “Just about, Katy. There are no last-minute hiccups on your end, are there?”
“Stop worrying, everything will turn out fine. We have him by the short and curlies on this one. I’ve never been more confident about a case.”
Lorne laughed. “Oh, yeah. I forgot how experienced you are. You’ve had hundreds of cases go to trial, haven’t you?”
“Smart arse! You know what I mean. DCI Roberts is confident that this will have a positive outcome. I wanted to check in to see what time you’ll be at the courthouse.”
“At the moment, I’m running behind schedule. Both Tony and Dad are ill in bed. You know how it is. Something always comes up to wreck well-laid plans. I’m just going to take Tony his breakfast up before I jump in the shower.” She glanced up at the clock on the wall above the back door. “Shit, it’s almost quarter past. I better get a move on.”
“You go. I’ll see you there about nine thirty?”
“Count on it, Katy. Thanks for ringing.”
After hanging up, Lorne dropped another two pieces of bread in the toaster and reboiled the kettle. She tapped her foot impatiently for the next three minutes. Finally, she buttered the toast and poured the water onto the instant coffee and set off up the stairs.
Tony moaned as he propped himself up against the headboard. “How’s your dad?”
Lorne kissed him lightly on the lips as she placed the tray in front of him. “He looks as bad as you. Crap, I wish I could stay at home today to look after you both, but I really need to give the girls my support. You understand, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I’ll have this and move downstairs to the couch. That way I’ll be near your father if he needs me.”
Lorne stripped off and put her mucky clothes in the washing basket. “I could call next door to see if the neighbour would pop in periodically during the day.”
“I’ll be fine. Don’t fret.”
She knew he was ill because his gaze stayed focused on her face instead of roaming her naked body like it usually did. “It’s all very well saying that, but we need to make sure your wound isn’t infected. You might think you’re suffering from what Dad has, but we also have to consider your wound, too. I’ll call the doctor during the day, see if he can come out and see you both.”
He tore at a piece of toast and chewed it for a second or two. “You worry too much.”
She waggled her backside at him and ran into the bathroom. After showering, she dressed in her black skirt suit, the one she hadn’t worn since leaving the force. It felt both strange and invigorating at the same time. To her, wearing a suit was a statement of power. She hoped she could recapture the way she felt as a policewoman today. It was important for her to show her strength of character to boost her client’s morale. They would be frightened by the day’s events. She prayed that the court case wouldn’t last longer than a day or two. The longer it was drawn out, the more the girl’s nerves would likely be torn to shreds.
“Did you hear me?” Tony’s voice brought her out of her reverie.
“Sorry, hon. I was miles away.” She stepped into her shoes and walked over to the bed.
“That much is evident. I said you look amazing. At least, you will once you comb and dry your hair.”
“Damn. I knew I’d forget something. Oh, and thanks for the compliment.” She tore off her jacket and blow-dried her hair. “How’s that?”
“Much better. Now give me a kiss, then go knock ’em dead.”
Lorne kissed his lips and stroked his damp hair back off his forehead. “I still feel bad about leaving you.”
“Nonsense. Take the tray for me, would you?”
“Of course. Would you like me to help you down the stairs?”
Tony shook his head. “You go. I’ll manage. What time will you be back tonight?”
“I suppose around six thirty to sevenish. Shall I pick up a take-away?”
“Might be an idea. Not sure your dad and I will be up to much. We could share one, maybe.”
“Good idea. See you later.”
Lorne left the bedroom and took his breakfast tray downstairs, then went to pick up her father’s breakfast dish. He had half nibbled at his toast but had managed to eat a
ll of his cereal. She told him that Tony was going to spend the day on the sofa, so he’d be close at hand.
Lorne quickly rinsed the breakfast things and left the house five minutes later.
She was halfway into London before she realized she hadn’t drunk or eaten anything herself all morning. You’ll have to wait till later, stomach.
Lorne’s heart was racing as she approached the city. Thankfully, the traffic was much lighter than she’d anticipated, and she made it to the courthouse with five minutes to spare. She parked in the multi-storey car park a few streets away and trotted in her high heels to meet the others.
On the steps of the old courthouse, she found the three girls waiting for her. Lorne had telephoned Fiona a few days before and instructed her on what the girls should wear. Both Ami and Linda had chosen to wear black trouser suits, while Fiona wore a cherry-coloured tailored skirt suit that stopped just below the knee.
“Hi. How is everyone doing?” Lorne asked as she came to a stop beside Fiona.
“We’ve been better,” Fiona replied her smile a little strained.
“We’re on the final stretch. Stay strong and focused, and we’ll make it over the finish line together.” Lorne heard footsteps behind her and turned anxiously. She blew out a relieved breath when Katy joined them.
“Bloody hell, I thought I was going to be late,” a breathless Katy said.
Lorne smiled and patted her on the arm. “I’ve only just arrived, myself. I’m so glad you could make it, Katy.”
“You can thank Sean later. I put in extra hours last week, so I could have the day off today.”
“We can’t thank you enough for both being here. Without your support, we couldn’t have made it this far,” Linda said, her eyes a little misty. Both Ami and Fiona nodded their agreement.
“What happens now?” Fiona asked.
“Why don’t we talk inside—”
A commotion behind them interrupted Lorne. She turned to see a jostling crowd approaching the courthouse. In the centre was the smug-looking Gibson. To his left were a tall grey-haired gentleman and an elegant, thin lady. To his right was his solicitor, his QC, dressed in all his finery and ready for action. Surrounding them were at least twenty to thirty journalists and photographers.