Dead To Me (25 page)

‘You did good, kid, with Sean.’ Gill held out her glass. They clinked. ‘Cheers.’

Janet took a swallow. ‘Is that vodka?’ She looked at Gill’s drink. A huge wine goblet, filled with clear liquid. ‘Am I going to be sick monitor again?’

‘Cheek!’ Gill jabbed her in the ribs. ‘It’s tap water – I’m driving.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Early start.’

‘They were good, Mitch and Lee,’ Janet said.

‘Need a drummer. Hey, Andy,’ Gill shouted across to him, ‘you not fancy drumming with them?’

‘No sense of rhythm.’

Not true, from what I recall
. Janet shook her head, giggled. Should slow down herself.

‘Right, I’m off. Be good,’ Gill said.

Janet saluted. Andy moved closer, offered her a drink.

‘I’m fine.’ She pointed to her glass.

They talked, heads close so they could hear over the music. He persuaded her to dance too. The floor was crowded and people were really letting their hair down now. One guy doing some northern soul moves, a circle of admirers around him, his limbs like rubber. When had she last danced? It felt good, she swung her hips and turned, couldn’t keep the grin off her face. Bit of fun.

Another drink and she saw Rachel leaving. Wondered how she’d found the party. Couldn’t have been easy in the shadow of what had happened. An inquest into Rosie’s death had been opened and adjourned, pending further investigation. When it reopened Rachel would be a key witness, though it could be months till then.

Pete was making a complete tit of himself with a woman from CID. A mix of air-guitar and heavy metal rocking. Janet got a stitch laughing.

Andy was attentive and witty, making her feel … real again. She was flushed and warm with the drink and the dancing and his interest when he said, ‘Come outside, I want to show you something.’

‘I’ve heard that before, officer,’ she joked, trying to make light of the butterflies inside and the depth of his gaze. She let herself be persuaded. Outside through the double doors on to the wide terrace. And it was snowing. Big, fat, soft flakes of snow and a winter’s moon, full and bright. The gardens muffled thick and white.

‘It’s beautiful,’ he said, ‘you’re beautiful.’ And his breath was warm on her cheek, his mouth firm on hers. Just a kiss, she promised herself, that’s all, just a kiss.

‘I’d better go,’ she managed when they came up for air. Her heart beating too fast.

He touched her face, she could feel his hunger. She wanted him so much.

‘Don’t go. Please. Stay with me, Janet.’

She closed her eyes, felt snow, tiny fingerprints of cold on her eyelids, on her cheeks.

‘Janet,’ he whispered her name again. She knew it was wrong. She had Ade, she had kids, for chrissakes.
She
looked at him again, his lips, his eyes. She couldn’t speak. This was stupid, dangerous, destructive. She was going home. This minute. Now.

She nodded her head. And she saw him swallow, the movement in his throat.

She texted Ade – easier to lie that way, no chance he’d hear the deceit in her voice.
Staying at Rachel’s x
. The kiss seemed to screech hypocrisy and she almost changed her mind until she looked over to Andy at the hotel reception desk, and pressed send before she could back out.

It was so strange, making love with Andy after all the years of only knowing Ade. Strange and exciting. The way he looked at her, drinking her in with his eyes, the tenderness he displayed and then the passion. She was lost for those hours in some parallel universe where she could be impulsive, instinctive, abandoned. As though she had shed her skin and emerged a different being.

The guilt came on waking. As soon as she opened her eyes to the unfamiliar room, Andy beside her, looking younger in his sleep. A shrivelling inside, like a stomach full of burning acid. A weight across her shoulders. What have I done? Knowing it was a dreadful mistake. She was not wild and impetuous, that wasn’t the person she was at all. She was careful, sensible, responsible. She was the one who stuck to the rules and made wise decisions and slept easily at night as a result.

Outside, the snow had gone, the magic wonderland
dissolved
by heavy rain, clouds still hovering low. Brooding. How could she do this to Ade? The thought of him ever knowing brought her out in a cold sweat.

33

‘KEYS,’ JANET SAID
as they reached the car park.

‘How long you going to keep that up?’ Rachel said.

‘While I live and breathe.’ Looking ratty.

Rachel threw them to her.

The day was grotty, wet and gloomy. ‘Did I miss anything last night? Anyone throw a punch or get their kit off?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Janet snapped.

‘God, who pissed on your chips?’ said Rachel.

Janet didn’t answer, maybe she’d drunk too much and was fighting a hangover but not wanting to let on.

At the children’s home, Janet introduced Rachel to Marlene.

‘Oh, yes, you rang about Martin Dalbeattie,’ Marlene said. ‘Was he any help?’

Janet’s smile froze in place and she turned to Rachel. Rachel, not feeling all that good any more, said, ‘We’ve not spoken to him, yet.’

‘You’ve heard about Rosie Vaughan?’ Marlene said, obviously not knowing Rachel had witnessed the whole thing. ‘So awful. That poor girl. Everything stacked against her, relentless – we just couldn’t get her to access mental health services.’

Janet murmured something back and Rachel studied her shoes. She didn’t want to think about Rosie, with her spindly arms and that pathetic ring of junk like a charm bracelet round the sofa. Though every time the cut on her hand throbbed, it all came rushing back at her. Rachel felt the bile of revenge. I didn’t do it, she told herself. The bastard who raped and beat her – this is on his head. And before him the mother who abused her, who made her do things that no child should ever suffer
. The mother had done her time, punishment served, but Rosie’s rapist was still out there. Rachel wanted to get the bastard now more than ever.

Once they were settled in Marlene’s office, Janet said, ‘We want to find out if any of the boys who’ve been here since 2008 had a reputation for sexual violence?’

Marlene raised her eyebrows in a question mark.

‘We’ve got some forensic evidence suggesting a possible link between Rosie Vaughan’s rape and Lisa Finn’s murder.’

‘Oh, God.’ Marlene closed her eyes for a moment. ‘What a waste,’ she said, ‘both of them. You do everything you possibly can, but … they didn’t deserve … no one deserves—’ she broke off, upset and angry. Rachel felt awkward, suddenly too hot in the room.

‘You’re right,’ Janet said. ‘But anything you can do to help …’

‘Of course.’ Marlene sat up straighter and swivelled round to the computer on a workstation at right angles to her desk. ‘Nobody springs to mind, but I’ll just have a look.’ She keyed some strokes and peered at the monitor.

There was a climbing frame in the garden and Rachel could see a toddler scaling one of the sides, bundled up in a bright red padded all-in-one. She had a sudden rush of fear that the child would fall, felt sweat break across the back of her neck and her mouth fill with saliva. Get a grip.

‘Of course, once our kids move out we wouldn’t necessarily know what’s going on,’ Marlene said. ‘Some of them move away or lose touch, even though social services have a duty of care to continue assisting the most vulnerable.’

‘It wouldn’t be anyone with a criminal record,’ Janet said. ‘Whoever this person is, they’re not on the database.’

‘I can’t see anyone here I’d have any doubts about,’ Marlene said, turning back from the computer.

‘Would you be happy to send us the names,’ Janet said, ‘so we can double check?’

‘Sure.’

‘Did Rosie and Lisa know each other?’ Rachel asked.

‘Yes. Not friends, though. Rosie was chummy with a girl called Angela – they were the same age, and Lisa was a couple of years younger. In fact, Lisa and Angela had a few scraps.’

‘Where’s Angela now?’ Rachel said. Rosie knew her rapist, Rachel was sure. If Angela was close to Rosie, perhaps she’d have an idea who it might have been.

‘I can get her last address for you.’

‘Could you send us a list of all the girls who were resident here, same dates, 2008 onwards?’ Janet asked.

‘And those that are here now?’ Marlene said.

‘Yes, please: names and dates of birth,’ Janet said.

Marlene nodded in agreement.

‘Can you think of anyone from outside the home who knew both Lisa and Rosie? Boyfriends, hangers-on, dealers?’ Janet said.

‘No one I knew about. There are a lot of problems with gangs targeting care homes, grooming girls for sex, but so far we’ve escaped that.’

‘What about the staff?’ Rachel said baldly. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Janet wince, heard her draw in a short breath of air.

Outrage sparked in Marlene’s eyes and her face set like a mask. ‘Our staff are all CRB checked and trained to rigorous standards,’ she said frostily.

‘Martin Dalbeattie was their social worker,’ Rachel pointed out, ‘both of them.’

Marlene looked as if she’d explode. ‘Martin worked with us for almost twenty years. He was an exemplary worker, hugely well respected. You can’t barge in here, making libellous and completely groundless allegations on some sort of fishing expedition—’

‘I’m sure Rachel didn’t mean—’ Janet started her peacemaker routine.

But Rachel wasn’t going to let it drop. ‘If he had an alibi …’ she said.

‘Rachel!’ Janet glared at her. ‘I do apologize,’ she said to Marlene.

‘Not on my account,’ Rachel said. The kid outside was on top of the climbing frame and bawling.

‘Will you just—’ Janet shot at her.

‘Look, having a fistful of qualifications is no bar to crime. The world’s full of nutters who deliberately work in places like this—’

Marlene leapt to her feet. ‘We have never, ever,’ her eyes glittered, ‘had one allegation of sexual impropriety brought against any member of staff. I live in the real world, I know what goes on. Hell, half the kids in here come from that sort of horror show – and we look after them.’ Really losing her rag.

Janet spoke quickly, ‘We’re aware of that and we are not here to ask about staff. I’m sorry. If you could send through those names, we’d appreciate it. You’ve got my email. We can check if any others have come to harm since leaving care.’

Marlene’s eyes were hard, her nostrils flaring. Like a horse with a cob on. Rachel half expected her to whinny and start pawing the ground. ‘Certainly,’ she said, squeezing out the word like it’d kill her.

‘Jesus! What charm school did you go to?’ Janet muttered as they reached the car, out of earshot of Marlene, who stood on the front steps, arms folded, lips pursed, obviously intent on seeing them off the premises.

‘She shouldn’t be so touchy,’ Rachel said.

‘Rachel, you were suggesting, without any grounds, that her colleague, a man she respects and admires, is a potential rapist and murderer. That’s outrageous. You know what it’s like when someone accuses a cop of being dirty?’

They got in the car. ‘Sometimes they are,’ Rachel pointed out.

‘Yeah, but we hate it, don’t we? The possibility that someone’s joined the other side. It’s sickening.’ Janet started the engine, buckled her seat belt. ‘And if someone starts putting it about that a good cop is corrupt, it’s a total nightmare. Try and see it from her point of view.’

‘Why?’

‘Because a bit of bloody empathy’ – Janet was riled now – ‘will get you a damn sight further than slinging your weight around. We want her cooperation. I know Marlene; she’s brilliant at what she does, so your little party piece won’t put her off doing the best she can to protect those kids and get justice for them, and she’ll come through with the list. But a different face, a different day and we’d be whistling for it. Acting the way you did is like cutting off your nose to spite your face. You need to improve your communication skills.’

Rachel stifled a yawn, stared out of the window and let her drone on for a bit, wondering how she could establish Martin Dalbeattie’s whereabouts on the day of Lisa’s murder without anyone finding out.

34

‘MUM?’

‘Sammy?’ Expecting him to ask about a sleepover or money to go to the cinema.

‘I’m at hospital.’

‘What?’ Gill’s heart bucked in her chest. ‘Why?’

‘I’m OK – broke my wrist.’

‘How? What happened?’

‘Argument with a car.’

Her blood ran cold. I should have been there
. ‘Which hospital?’

‘The General, A and E.’

‘Right, stay there. I’m on my way.’

Gill asked Andy to step up. Hopefully she’d be back in the saddle soon enough.

‘Anything I can do?’ Janet asked when Gill gave her the news on her way out.

‘No, ta.’

Her mind was spinning fantasies as she drove: what if he had internal injuries too? They didn’t always present themselves immediately. What car? Some pillock taking the lane too fast, fifty-five in a thirty-mile zone? Had they even stopped? Which hand? If it was his right hand, how would he cope at college? Hit and run? Had anyone else been hurt? Oh, God. He’d have said, wouldn’t he? Would he?