by Ed James
‘My stomach started eating itself.’
‘Another hipster monstrosity. Ay caramba.’ Finlay collapsed in the seat next to him and thumbed back at the ward. ‘The girl been seen yet?’
‘Just in the middle of it now.’ Hunter stuck his lunch box on his lap as he finished chewing the last mouthful. ‘Lauren’s handing this off to the Rape unit in Bathgate.’
‘Aye, good luck with that. Twats will only touch it if the boy looks like a future serial killer.’ Finlay got out his smartphone, big and shiny, the sort of thing that cost half your monthly wage on a contract. ‘Lawyer’s still not turned up.’
‘He’s got one?’
‘Aye, some big shot. Stuck in court just now.’
‘Dirty bastard needs the best he can get.’ Hunter peered over to the nurse’s station, still empty. He got to his feet and dumped his box on the side table. ‘Bugger it, I’m—’
‘Craig Hunter.’ A deep voice from behind, all too familiar.
He spun round and nodded. ‘Elvis.’
‘That again…’ DC Paul Gordon stood there, rubbing his long sideburns, black triangles. He wore a dark grey suit, the pale grey shirt underneath matching his complexion. The sort of pot belly you could only get from eight pints of premium lager a night with Finlay Sinclair. ‘The uniform suits you, mate.’
‘I prefer a bit of camouflage, if I’m being honest.’ Hunter glanced down at his black ensemble. ‘This is itchy as hell.’
‘Classic. Serves you right you being in uniform, Hunter.’ Elvis stroked his chin, a few shards of stubble in among the clean shave. ‘The MIT management must spend a lot of time working out how we could’ve let a talent like yours slip through our grasp.’
‘Clearly don’t know what they’re doing if they’ve kept you on.’
‘DCI Cargill said I’m a rising star.’
‘Sure she didn’t mean arse?’
‘Just messing, mate. Long time no—’
A hand grabbed Elvis’s shoulder from behind. ‘Come on, Paul, the doc’s…’
Hunter’s heart fluttered.
Yvonne Flockhart. Tall, dark hair, scowling at Hunter. ‘Come find me, Paul.’ She let go of Elvis and stormed off down the corridor.
Elvis stood next to him. ‘Another of your conquests, mate?’
‘In a manner of speaking.’ Hunter slumped forward in his chair, thick mucous sticking in his throat. ‘What brings you here?’
‘Proper work, you know?’ Elvis shook his head at Hunter’s uniform again, laughing anew. He pulled his jacket tight, frowning at Finlay. ‘Pint tonight, Fin?’
‘The Elm at the end of the shift, bud. I’ll be propping up the bar.’ Finlay gave a cheeky grin to Hunter. ‘Saved a cat this morning.’
‘Aye?’ Elvis planted a hand on Hunter’s shoulder. ‘Keep up the heroics, maybe one day they’ll notice that you too are full of promise, Craig. Who knows, you might even get to trade in the uniform for a cat suit.’
Hunter nudged him away before he stuck the nut on. ‘Is Yvonne your carer now, or what?’
Elvis raised an eyebrow, his cheeks puckering into a dimple. ‘You hear about that shooting in Dumbiedykes?’
‘You’re working that?’
‘Sure am. Witness ended up in here. Someone clocked him on the head when he got home from giving his statement.’
‘Sounds suspicious.’
‘Aye, and then some.’ Elvis’s eyebrow danced up. ‘What are you pricks here for?’
Hunter glared at Finlay. ‘Domestic abuse case.’
‘Nasty.’ Elvis gripped Hunter’s shoulder tight again. ‘Sure you’ll put the punk away.’
Finlay batted Elvis’s hand away. ‘Here, Craig, we’ve got a doctor to speak to once you’re done flirting.’
Finlay leaned against the window overlooking the car park and nodded at the doctor. ‘Have you managed to examine Miss Ferguson yet?’
‘Well. I’ve performed most of the standard tests, yes.’ Dr Helen Yule got up from her desk, stethoscope dangling from her neck, folded arms cracking the starch of her white coat. She took her glasses off and blew on the lenses. Half of her right eyebrow was missing, an old scar intersecting it. She stood up tall and put her specs back on, the strip lights turning the round lenses into mirrors. ‘I’m afraid the rape kit’s negative.’
‘Seriously?’ Hunter slumped back against the wall and frowned. ‘What do you mean by “most of the standard tests”?’
‘Unfortunately, the girl wasn’t particularly co-operative.’ Yule pointed out into the corridor. ‘She’s at the more feral end of the scale of what we see in here. And the mother isn’t exactly helping, either. She’s supporting Stephanie’s attempts to block the tests. Doesn’t want anything to happen to her wee angel.’
Heard that too many times today…
Hunter let out a sigh. ‘Are you saying she wasn’t raped?’
‘Look, it’s not that clear cut. I got Stephanie to start speaking while her mother was out of the room taking a phone call.’ Yule snorted and took a few seconds to think things through. ‘She told me she’d had a shower after the latest attack.’
Hunter bit his bottom lip, tearing off a thin strip of skin. ‘So there are no signs of rape?’
‘That’s still not conclusive. If Mr Ferguson didn’t use a condom, then there should still be traces of semen in the standard test regions. I need to do more tests, but I’m not convinced it’ll be easy.’
‘Want me to have a word with her?’
‘That’ll be fine, so long as you get her to comply without trying to bite.’ Yule held up her closed fist and flexed out the fingers. ‘Luckily she’s not made contact yet.’
5
The hospital room had that boiled-cabbage smell, as sweet as it was sour. Christ knew where it came from.
Stephanie lay back, staring at the ceiling, ignoring her mother. She was hunched up in a hospital gown, the bedsheets the same gleaming white as the walls. Hunter stood his ground in the doorway until she finally became aware of him and looked his way, though only for as long as it took her eyes to come into focus. Then they flicked back to the ceiling.
The glass of orange Lucozade by the bed gave off a peppery tang. Not sure how that’d help with a rape.
Pauline Ferguson was sitting on the chair next to the bed, withdrawn and dabbing a tissue at her eyes. She twisted round and spotted Hunter. ‘Have you put him away yet?’
‘I need a word.’ Hunter smiled at her and beckoned her out into the corridor. Once she’d left the room, he closed the door behind him and leaned against it, blocking her re-entry, though not as subtly as hoped. ‘How’s Stephanie doing?’
‘Her bloody stepfather’s been raping her. How do you bloody think she’s doing?’ Pauline rested against the wall, her expression as foul as the hospital smell. ‘My poor wee angel…’
Hunter got out his notebook and opened it, focus on Pauline. ‘Have you witnessed any instances where your husband could’ve—’
‘No.’
Hunter almost snapped the end of his pen as he pressed it against his notebook. ‘You’re sure?’
‘Calling me a liar?’
‘We need to establish a list of events where Ms Fe— where Stephanie confirms she was abused. All the who, where, when stuff. Okay?’
Pauline ran a hand across her forehead, smearing the beads of sweat. ‘You need to give the lassie time…’
‘Time is critical in this case.’
‘And that Doctor keeps trying to do things to Steph…’
Hunter clenched his jaw and tried to stare her down. ‘Dr Yule has been unable to perform a full physical examination on your daughter.’
‘Should’ve done her job when she had the bloody chance.’ Eyes locked tight, mouth twitching silent incantations. ‘She must’ve got enough to put that animal away, right?’
‘She didn’t find any evidence.’
Pauline’s eyes shot round, lips pursed tight, a snarl distorting her nose. ‘After all that, she
can’t do her bloody job?’
‘You weren’t obstructing Dr Yule, were you?’
‘What?’ Pauline turned away from Hunter, her forehead creased. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying that, if we are to stand any chance of convicting Mr Ferguson, we need evidence to support Stephanie’s allegations.’
‘You saying my daughter’s a liar?’
‘I just need the truth.’ Hunter let it sink in. ‘We need to get a full statement from you. And one from Stephanie. We need them as soon as possible. And, perhaps most importantly, we need those stories not to merge together.’
‘Fat chance of that.’ Pauline focused on the shining floor tiles and wiped a tear from her blotchy cheek. ‘She’s not speaking to me.’
‘Do you mind if I have a word with her?’
Pauline’s gaze swept up again, water filling her eyes. ‘Can’t you see how traumatised she is?’ She gasped, her lips quivering as she stared at the door behind Hunter. ‘She just needs space.’
That’s how she’s playing it, is it?
Hunter tried the smile again. ‘In that case, I’m afraid Stephanie’s going to have to vacate the room.’
‘You can’t be… What? Why? She’s been raped!’
Hunter nodded. ‘Is there anyone who could give you a lift home?’
‘What, you drove us here!’
‘You’ll need to make alternative arrangements.’
‘Christ…’ Pauline blinked hard and fast a few times, her shoulders slumping low. ‘Ailsa. She lives next door to us. I can call her.’
‘Might be an idea to get her to bring a change of clothes for Stephanie.’
‘Sure, sure.’ Pauline reached down for her handbag and retrieved a basic Samsung mobile. ‘Just a second.’ She wandered off, hitting buttons on her phone.
Finally…
Hunter re-entered the room and perched on the chair nearest the girl, letting her acclimatise to his presence.
Stephanie glanced over at him, her mascara now just a faint shadow under her eyes. She started fidgeting with her thumbs, pushing them together until one forced the other over, like they were no longer parts of her body.
‘Stephanie, I need to ask you a few questions.’ Hunter left a long pause, filled with the girl’s short breaths. ‘It’s about what you told your mother earlier.’
Stephanie rolled over to face away from him, the gown crinkling and bunching up tight around her.
‘I need to write down your account of events, which we’ll have to present in court at a later date. It’s important you tell me what happened as soon as you can.’
She curled up into a tight ball.
‘I just want to help you, Stephanie. Then you can have some time to yourself. But I need to do this as soon as you’re able to.’
No reaction.
‘Is your mum stopping you from speaking to us?’
Her body loosened off. ‘What?’
‘I want to help, Stephanie. Whatever’s going on, you can tell me. If your mother’s—’
She let out a deep sigh and shuffled round to face Hunter, eyes brightened by tears, glistening under the strip lights. ‘Mum keeps going on at me. Is it a lie? Am I lying? Keeps nipping at my head. I just need a break, man.’
‘I understand that, Stephanie.’ Hunter shifted back on the chair, close to falling off. ‘Are you able to tell me what you told her?’
‘I just want everyone to get off my back.’
‘Stephanie, I’ll give you all the space you need once you’ve told me what’s happened.’
She blinked slowly, lost and scared, looking a lot younger than sixteen. ‘What do you want to know?’
He got out his notebook and eased off the pen lid. ‘Can you tell me what you told your mother at lunchtime?’
A long pause, like he’d lost her again. Then she gasped.
‘Steph, Ailsa’s going to give us a lift—’ Pauline grabbed Hunter’s arm and tugged him to his feet. ‘What the bloody hell’s going on here?’ She barged him out of the way and reached over to massage her daughter’s back. ‘Are you okay, sweet pea?’
The girl flinched away from her mother’s touch. He’d lost the eye contact.
Pauline twisted round and scowled at Hunter. ‘Were you hassling my daughter?’
Hunter raised his hands, noticing Finlay in the doorway. ‘I understand your concern, Mrs Ferguson. I managed to—’
‘I told you to stop calling me that.’
Give me strength…
‘To stand any chance of convicting your husband, we need to get your daughter’s statement on the record, okay? She was just starting to open up to me there. You need to give me space and let me help. Do you understand me?’
Pauline slumped against the wall and gave a slight nod. ‘What do you need from me?’
‘Just keep away.’ Hunter returned to the bed.
Stephanie was crying, the sheets rocking in time with her ragged breaths. Her glistening eyes stayed locked on her mother.
Hunter tried to make eye contact, but she wasn’t playing that game any longer. ‘Stephanie, can you continue?’
She shook her head.
‘It’s important.’
She shut her eyes. ‘Is that true?’
Pauline paced over to the bed and started stroking her daughter’s bare arm. ‘Is what true, Toots?’
‘He said he might not be able to put Dad— Doug away?’
‘Don’t you worry, petal. It’ll all be fine…’
Stephanie was pleading with Hunter now. ‘I mean it. Is he going to get off?’
‘Stephanie, we’ve barely started this case.’ Hunter swept his quiff over in a vain attempt to stop his hands shaking. ‘We just need to be able to do our jobs.’
‘Right.’
Hunter motioned for Finlay to join him in the corridor. He closed the door and peered through the safety glass. ‘This isn’t getting us anywhere.’
‘You’re telling me.’
‘The mother keeps obstructing. You saw what happened, right? I had the girl talking.’ Hunter leaned back against the door, arms folded. ‘Finlay, I need you to—’
‘So you’re in charge of me, is that it?’ Finlay stood there, hands on hips, face like a skelped arse. ‘You’re not my boss, jabroni.’
Here we go again…
‘I’m not saying I am.’ Hunter pinched his nose, heat rising up his neck. ‘Look, we need to divide and conquer here, okay? I’ll get the mother’s statement. You stay here with Stephanie and make sure Yule gets the physical finished.’
Finlay shrugged, phone already out. ‘How long you going to be?’
‘As long as Yule needs. You okay to do it?’
‘I’ll keep an eye on her, don’t you worry.’ Finlay let out a wide yawn. Could practically see his tonsils.
Hunter stood up tall and smoothed down his T-shirt. ‘This doesn’t bother you?’
Finlay’s eyes shifted around the glowing screen. ‘What, taking orders from you?’
‘No, what that girl’s been through.’
‘Seen it all, mate.’
Hunter spotted his sandwich box on the table at the side. ‘Terrific. Almost forgot that.’ He opened the door and entered the room.
Pauline was propped against the wall, shaking her head slowly and muttering to herself.
Hunter joined her, a tight hand on her arm. ‘I’m going to take your statement now.’
The family room looked recently decorated. Tasteful colour scheme, all beiges and browns, contrasting with a strong purple couch. Fresh flowers sat next to the box of Kleenex on top of the chunky oak table.
Nice to see someone still has money to spend these days.
Hunter nudged the tissues across the table, past Pauline’s sleeping mobile. ‘I know how troubling this time is for you and your family.’
‘Do you?’ Pauline stuffed a hankie up the sleeve of her jumper. Yellowed bruises encircled her wrist. ‘Do you really?’
‘Where did you
get those bruises?’
She pulled her sleeve back down. ‘Nowhere.’
‘If your husband has been—’
‘I was helping that doctor and Stephanie kept grabbing hold of me.’
The iceberg’s in danger of tipping up here…
‘I find that hard to believe.’ Hunter crunched back in the chair. ‘Has your husband been—’
‘Where is he?’
Hunter smoothed down his notebook, adding the date and time. ‘We’ve detained your husband ahead of a formal interview, so no further harm’s going to come to Stephanie.’ He clicked his pen and laid it on the blank page. ‘But we need to take your statement and ensure it stays consistent throughout the process.’
She snuffled into a tissue. ‘What are you saying?’
‘I mean, you can’t get Stephanie to change her statement to further incriminate your husband. It has to stay the same. And we need to substantiate the allegations to support a prosecution.’
‘You think she’s lying, don’t you?’ Pauline dropped the hanky on the table, where the tight ball slowly blossomed. ‘I can see it in your eyes. You think she’s made up a pack of lies.’
‘I’ve got an open mind, I can assure you.’ Hunter jotted the attendees on the fresh page, just him and Pauline Ferguson. ‘I know this isn’t easy.’
‘I blame myself for what’s happened.’ She took out another hankie and blew her nose. ‘Letting Doug into our house.’ She dabbed at her nostrils, shaking her head. ‘She’s just a bairn and I’ve let her down.’ She tossed the bunched-up tissue across the table. ‘Stephanie’s a bright girl, in the top class for everything. I want her to go to uni, get a proper job and not end up like me. Can’t believe this…’ Another honk on the tissue. ‘Doug’s been … abusing her.’
‘Did she say how long?’
‘I got the impression it was at least a year.’
‘So since she was fifteen?’ Hunter drew two timelines on a separate page, one for that morning and the other going back years. ‘How long have you and your husband been together?’
‘Since 2010. Married the following year. I wasn’t pregnant or anything, I just needed to settle down for Steph. She was ten.’ Pauline stared into space, her eyes glazing over with a layer of fresh tears. ‘Christ, that’s almost half the girl’s life.’