Dead Inside

by Noelle Holten

  ‘Routine questions. That’s all. We’re trying to eliminate anyone who may have come into contact with, or had a reason to harm, these men. I’m going to level with you, Sharon. More than one person has commented on some of the things you have said about Millard and the other individuals we monitor.’

  Sharon leaned across the desk, and Maggie sat back. ‘You listen to me. I have never hidden what I think about the people managed in this unit: they are the scum of the earth. Am I upset by what happened to them? Not really. But I am also the one who has to deal with their victims on a daily basis. You’ll have to forgive my unprofessionalism when I sometimes say that soandso deserves a good kicking. Karma is a bitch. But I would never take the law into my own hands. As shit as the criminal justice system can be,’ she narrowed her eyes into slits, ‘it’s not my place to mete out whatever punishment is due. Now if we’re done here …’

  Sharon stormed off without waiting for an answer.

  Returning to her office, Maggie flopped into her chair and sighed. ‘I really don’t need this shit.’ At that moment she really just wanted to be sitting in front of the TV, sharing a pepperoni pizza with her brother. Tapping her pen on the table, she didn’t want to admit that this case was getting to her. But it was. She rubbed her forehead hoping they had a break soon as she didn’t know how much longer she could keep it together. She replayed the conversation in her head. Sharon had a strong dislike of domestic abusers, but Maggie put her words down to passion and not revengeseeking. She would give it a day and then ring Sharon to apologize. She didn’t want any animosity in the team and they still had a killer to catch.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

  Lucy woke feeling groggy and slightly nauseous. After hearing Patrick come in last night, she’d lain awake until she heard his snores. Desperate for a coffee, she crept out onto the landing and listened. Patrick was still snoring; it was at times like this she was grateful he could sleep through an earthquake.

  Lucy hurried past, careful not to wake him as she brewed herself a cup of strong coffee. The kitchen was a mess, cans littered the counter and lager spilled on the floor. While waiting for the kettle to boil, Lucy grabbed a cloth, knelt down, and began wiping up the mess.

  She felt his hot breath on her neck, ‘I’ll have a cuppa if you’re making one.’ He wrapped his arms around her waist and tried to kiss her. Lucy wondered wearily how she missed his approach.

  ‘Patrick, not now. I’m not feeling too great and I have to get ready for work.’

  He shoved her away. ‘Always fucking work. What about me? This relationship is a fucking joke.’

  Lucy could tell he was still drunk and didn’t want him to kick off before she had to go to work.

  ‘Sorry, look, I’m just tired. Didn’t sleep much.’ She touched his hand and noticed some cuts. ‘You OK? What happened?’

  ‘What is this? The third fucking degree? I went out. Is that a problem?’

  Lucy wasn’t convinced.

  ‘I was just asking. Never mind. I’ll make the coffee.’

  ‘Fine. Can you make it quick? I need to pick up Siobhan from school.’

  ‘Oh, I forgot to say, Maria called last night and said she’d take Siobhan to school. I didn’t know what time you’d be back, so said that was OK. You weren’t answering your phone.’

  Lucy wasn’t surprised when Patrick grunted, ‘I was busy. You could’ve said something earlier. I would’ve stayed in bed.’ Before she could answer, he stomped his way up the stairs.

  Lucy put her questions to the back of her mind for now and got ready for work. She had enough on her plate at the moment; everything else could wait.

  Lucy was barely through the door at work when Sarah rushed over, her eyes wide with excitement. ‘Oh, my god! Have you heard what happened?’

  ‘I just got here, Sarah.’ Lucy laughed. ‘Can you give me a minute to drop this at my desk?’

  ‘Of course! Sorry. I just can’t believe it! I thought you’d know anyway since your Patrick was involved.’

  Lucy stopped dead in her tracks. She turned around slowly. ‘What do you mean my Patrick was involved? Involved in what, Sarah?’

  ‘You really don’t know?’ Sarah was no longer smiling.

  Lucy could feel the colour draining from her face as Sarah pulled her into the staff room, looked around and then whispered, ‘Patrick was arrested last night.’

  Lucy couldn’t hide her shock. ‘Arrested? He was home last night, and I spoke to him this morning. How do you know all this before me?’

  ‘An email came through for the duty officer – that’s me today – and you were copied in because Mick O’Dowd was also arrested—’

  ‘What the hell? With Patrick?’ Lucy’s mind was racing.

  ‘Yes! I’m supposed to call the police back. They want some information on Mick—’

  ‘Leave it with me, I’ll sort it. Thanks, Sarah. Does anyone else know?’ Lucy cut Sarah off before she could finish.

  ‘Not yet. Andy isn’t in until later, and I’m not about to spread any office gossip about you. Is everything OK?’

  Lucy nodded. ‘Don’t worry. This must all be a misunderstanding. I’ll sort it.’ Lucy was torn: she didn’t know whether to contact her boss now, or wait until she heard the full story. She didn’t want to be caught out. Lucy knew who could give her some answers. She picked up the phone and dialled.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN

  Lucy set her palms down flat on her desk. She couldn’t breathe, her chest tightened. Before she even had the chance to hear what Mark knew about Patrick’s arrest, he had other news to share. She listened through the headset as Mark explained the limited details they had on the Vicki Wilkinson assault. Lucy again relayed the conversation she’d had with Mick and Vicki on the day of the attack. Mark advised Lucy that they may need to speak with her further pending enquiries.

  Lucy was shaking as she hung up the telephone. Sarah must have spotted she was upset and came over.

  ‘Hey, are you OK? You look a bit shaken up.’

  In a daze, Lucy hoped that Sarah couldn’t see how uneasy she felt.

  ‘What is it, Lucy? Do you want a cuppa?’

  Lucy shook her head. ‘No … no, I’ll be fine. I’ve just got some news about Vicki Wilkinson and now I’m worried that I should’ve seen this coming.’

  ‘Oh, my god, has something happened to Vicki? What? Why didn’t they contact me?’

  ‘According to the police, Vicki has been attacked. Apparently, it’s pretty bad – she’s in a coma. I guess they let me know because I emailed them about that home visit.’

  Sarah gasped and squeezed Lucy’s shoulder. ‘Oh no! Did they arrest anyone?’

  ‘No, but I think Mick O’Dowd might be involved. Remember, I’d spoken to them, and I warned Vicki to be careful. I warned her. What if my threat triggered him off?’

  ‘You can’t think like that. If Mick was involved, he made the decision on his own. And no matter how vulnerable Vicki is, she is also capable of making her own choices. You can’t blame yourself for any of this.’

  Lucy knew Sarah was right. It still didn’t stop her from feeling guilty. At least Sarah understood, but it was everyone else she was worried about. People outside of probation didn’t get the stressful decisions they had to make. Without really knowing what the job entailed, assumptions from others often caused good officers to lose confidence in their abilities.

  Lucy thanked Sarah and composed herself. She needed to update her records and then speak to her line manager. This would no doubt end up as a serious further offence investigation. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

  After informing her manager of the situation and being reassured that her decisions were defensible, Lucy was desperate to call Mark again, to see if there were any further updates on the case. She hesitated, her hand above the phone. What would calling Mark achieve? He might grow suspicious and start asking questions that she was not ready or prepared to answer. She shook the idea out of her head, logged off her computer, and
locked away her paperwork. When she was feeling like this, she didn’t want to go home.

  CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

  The dark circles under Mick O’Dowd’s eyes told Maggie that he had barely slept a wink. He was slouched on the bed in his cell looking annoyed at the flickering fluorescent light above him. She heard from the custody sergeant that every now and again he’d shout abuse through the steel door to anyone within earshot. Significantly sober now, Maggie guessed, he would be recounting the goings on of the night before, preparing himself for questioning.

  ‘Can I get some fucking paracetamol in here? How can you interview me if my head is pounding!?’

  Maggie stood back as the officer accompanying her unlocked the cell door. The officer situated himself in front of Mick with a tray full of something that was supposed to pass for breakfast. Maggie could understand the look of distaste on Mick’s face.

  ‘I can’t eat that shit. Do you have any headache tablets?’

  ‘You’ll have to wait for the doctor, I’m not—’ the PC replied, looking at Maggie for some assistance.

  ‘Forget it, I don’t want to hear your procedural shit. When am I going to be interviewed?’

  ‘Mr O’Dowd, my name is DC Maggie Jamieson. I’ll be interviewing you shortly. I just wanted to see that you were sober enough to answer our questions.’

  ‘Fuck’s sake. Are you going to be long? Take that shit with you … wait … leave the coffee and the juice.’

  Both Maggie and the PC ignored Mick as the door was locked behind them. Looking through the small window, Maggie watched him guzzle down the orange juice like it was the first drink he’d ever had. Maggie noted the injuries on O’Dowd’s knuckles, as he held the cup of coffee to his mouth. She’d certainly be asking about them.

  Before going in for the interview, Mick was allowed to see his solicitor. The tall, grey-suited man entered and took a seat in front of Mick.

  ‘Hello, Mr O’Dowd. My name is William McCabe.’ He pulled out some paperwork and laid it on the table. ‘I see the police want to question you about a criminal damage, affray, as well as the more serious offence of grievous bodily harm.’

  Mick pretended to be shocked.

  ‘Whoa, whoa … whoa! I get the criminal damage and affray – and pretty much hold my hands up to them – but what the hell is the GBH charge you’re talking about? No one was seriously hurt in that fight last night and no weapons were used. Just my hands.’ Mick showed his solicitor the cuts on his knuckles as proof.

  ‘I see. Well according to this,’ he gestured at the paperwork, ‘the GBH relates to a serious assault against someone by the name of Victoria Wilkinson. Do you know her, Mr O’Dowd?’

  ‘Vicki? Oh, my god. What’s happened to Vicki?’ His acting skills were better than he hoped, because the solicitor looked genuinely concerned.

  ‘It seems, Mr O’Dowd, that Vicki was beaten and left for dead in her flat. On the same day that you got into a fight with a Mr Patrick Quinn. The police suspect you’re involved with the serious assault on Vicki, because you have a history of domestic abuse. It says here that you’re currently on licence for an offence against an ex-partner. Is that correct?’

  Mick nodded.

  ‘I swear I had nothing to do with Vicki. We cooled things off after my probation officer warned me that I could be breaching my fucking licence.’

  The two men discussed Mick’s whereabouts during the time in question and he explained the incident in the pub as an unfortunate misunderstanding.

  ‘Right. Well, from what I see here, the police don’t seem to have much evidence to charge you in the case of the GBH at this moment in time. It seems you have an alibi, if what you’re saying checks out. You’ll likely be charged with the criminal damage and affray – but given the circumstances, I think we can get you out on bail.’

  Mick smiled. ‘Thanks, Mr McCabe. Can we get this over and done with? My head’s pounding.’

  The solicitor nodded. Mick knew that a lesser charge might just keep him in his nice, cosy flat, and he’d make sure nothing would affect that.

  The solicitor stepped out for a moment and returned with the two officers from earlier. A digital recorder was switched on by the woman. She reminded Mick he was still under caution and explained how the questioning would go. Mick nodded his understanding. Keep it together Mickey boy …

  CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE

  Maggie tapped her pen on the table – a habit she’d had since her teenage years – and talked Mick through the preliminaries. She was sitting beside Mark in the interview, opposite Mick and his solicitor.

  With all the information the police had on the affray and criminal damage, Maggie knew those would be the easier crimes to get Mick to own up to. Sure enough, he recounted the events of last night and held his hands up, stating he was ‘guilty as charged’. Maggie could see that Mick had something further on his mind, though.

  ‘Excuse me, officers, my client wants to know a few things before we proceed.’

  ‘Go on, Mr McCabe,’ Maggie responded.

  ‘He wants to know if the other man involved in the affray has been charged, whether Mr … erm … Quinn is pressing charges, and what would happen if my client didn’t want to pursue the assault charges against Mr Quinn.’

  Before Maggie had the opportunity to say anything, Mark answered, ‘Mr Quinn has not made any indication whether he is going to pursue the assault charges. I can’t tell you anymore than that. It will be up to you, Mr McCabe, to pursue once you’re finished here. As for what would happen if you didn’t pursue charges … in all likelihood, the matter would be dropped. You both would still be libel for the criminal damage charges, because the owner of the pub whose window you smashed is pressing charges. The CPS will make the decision on how to take that further. Does that answer your question, Mr O’Dowd?’

  Mick nodded.

  Mark sighed. ‘For the benefit of the tape, Mr O’Dowd has just nodded his agreement to understanding.’

  ‘So, Mr O’Dowd, what caused the physical altercation with Mr Quinn?’ Maggie stared, maintaining eye contact and hoping to make him slip up.

  ‘Like I just told you. Someone pointed out that his wife was a fit bird.’ Mick slid his tongue over his nicotine-stained teeth and Maggie cringed. ‘Maybe she doesn’t like to be associated with an arsehole, which is why I’ve never seen her with him. Anyway, I said a few choice words about his missus and what I’d gladly do to her if he couldn’t satisfy her needs … that’s all. He said something back that I didn’t particularly like, some bullshit rumour.’ Mick puffed his chest out and leaned back in his chair. ‘So I thought I would teach him a lesson. Seems he didn’t like that much either!’

  Maggie rolled her eyes and, much to his displeasure, interrupted him. ‘But there’s a reason for that, isn’t there, Mr O’Dowd?’

  ‘Yeah. There may well be. But that has nothing to do with what I’m here for, lady. I did my time, so why don’t you move along.’

  Mick’s solicitor nudged him. ‘DC Jamieson, can we just stick to the facts of the current matters, please?’

  The look of contempt Maggie fired at him did not go unnoticed by the others in the room, but she didn’t care. ‘Mr McCabe, I’m trying to establish the facts, and in terms of Vicki Wilkinson, the facts are: (a) she was severely beaten to within an inch of her life (b) she was in a relationship with Mick O’Dowd (c) Mick O’Dowd has a history of domestic abuse. And he’s currently on licence for an assault against a previous partner … so what part don’t you understand as factual?’

  Mick’s solicitor wouldn’t meet her gaze and, instead, directed his answer to her colleague.

  ‘I understand the points raised. However, unless you have evidence that places my client with the victim at the time of the assault, all this is irrelevant.’ He smiled at Mark. ‘What he’s previously done, and what he’s on licence for, has nothing to do with these matters.’

  ‘I’m over here, Mr McCabe.’ Maggie waved her hands about. ‘Speaking
to my colleague rather than me won’t change my line of questioning. Can we get on with this now? And in future – look at me when you have something to say. I’m the lead detective in this case … OK?’

  CHAPTER SEVENTY

  Shell contacted the hospital to check on Vicki. The nurse who answered the phone sounded sympathetic, but told Shell that she could only share information with family members. She must have heard the distress in Shell’s voice, because she whispered into the phone that, if Shell were to turn up at the hospital, she’d find her friend in a stable condition. Shell breathed a sigh of relief and thanked the nurse for her understanding.

  Shell had made a copy of Vicki’s spare key a while back; Vicki was always prone to losing things when she was under the influence, so it had seemed like a good idea. Given that the assault on her friend happened a few days ago, Shell was fairly certain that the police would have cleared out by now and she didn’t want her friend coming home to a bomb sight.

  She packed her car with cleaning supplies and headed over to the estate. Letting herself into Vicki’s flat she surveyed the mess and shook her head. She couldn’t tell whether the chaos had been caused by the police, or by whoever had trashed the place. Fingerprint dust covered various points in the room and clothes were strewn all over the floor. Starting with the kitchen, Shell began what was likely to be an all-day task.

  Hours later, Shell found herself in Vicki’s bedroom. The room had barely been touched, because the majority of the crime had taken place in the living room and kitchen. Shell wanted the whole place to feel cosy, so Vicki didn’t struggle coming back … and she’d be back. Shell wasn’t ready to accept the possibility that her friend might not wake up. That would be too much to bear. Shell gripped the mop tightly and tried to control her anger.

  Shell cleaned faster, removing the bedsheets and searching Vicki’s closet for some fresh ones. Finding some in a plastic bag at the back of the closet, Shell started to make the bed. Her hand touched something on the left side of the double bed. A notebook. Shell debated whether to look inside and was surprised that the police hadn’t found it. Maybe they looked inside and found nothing of interest.