Ok, Chapter 9 of this one. I feel I've neglected a certain aspect of this story that I introduced earlier: the suspect – Conrad James. I brought him in, and then just left it. I just forgot about him – how bad is that? So I'm gonna wrap that up here, plus keep the action going. So the first part of this will be set the night of Conrad's arrest, but then the next part will be set at the crime scene with the discovery of a new body. I do apologise that it is this way; I just failed to tie up the Conrad part of this story, so that WILL be rectified in the next few chapters. Sorry again guys. Enjoy xx
Chapter 9 – Reflections
Night. Conrad's Cell. 4 hours after questioning.
He lay, encased in his own thoughts, re-living that same moment over and over again. Rape. That's what the officer had said. At first Conrad just thought the old geezer was messing with him, but nope. He had been arrested and questioned under suspicion of rape, but Conrad hadn't done anything! Not like that anyway. Yeah, sure, he'd nicked a car, driven it round the city for a bit, but that's as bad as it got. He certainly wasn't a…someone filthy like that! He had a baby sister! He would have died for her, and knowing that those women had been….knowing what had happened, seeing them photos….he coulda cried. And he was a bloke! He never cried, not even when he was getting his bollocks kicked in by Toby Fisher and his mates! This was big; too big for him, and he wasn't gonna go down for it. He had to tell them the truth – that he'd had no part in any rapes – but that'd mean giving himself up for the car theft, and he was already on probation for the same thing!
Conrad sat up and stared at the blank walls of his cell. Pale, cream coloured stone walls – harsh and unforgiving, the silence pounding in his head; almost as if the cell itself were judging him.
"I didn't do it! I didn't fucking rape no one!" He yelled, top of his lungs style, the sound reverberating off of his four suffocating walls, to be heard by the custody sergeant only. But no one came. No one listened to his pleas; his pain, and the anger mounting up in Conrad was soon quashed by sheer desperation and sadness. How could they think he would do that? At that moment, he thought of his mum; her smile, the way she would pick him up and cuddle him if he cried, and the way she would cut his sandwiches into triangles because that was the way he loved them. Rubbing his hand along his forehead, he sighed; the sound shaking as his emotions became too much. He knew what they said: you always see your past through rose tinted glasses. Well, if that's how he chose to remember his mum, then he'd stick to that. The past didn't need dredging up, because that's what it was: the past.
As he lay back down, Conrad could feel the sadness in him easing, as extreme tiredness took over. Even the hunger he had been feeling – when did he last eat? – had eased off, and instead he could begin to feel his eyelids pushing down, the unmistakable sting of tired eyes. Succumbing to the fatigue growing on him, he put his head back and slid his eyes shut, desperate for it all to be over.
"So you understand Conrad? You're being bailed, to return on the 14th. Got that?"
Callum's strong, assertive tones seemed to sink in, because Conrad chose to look demure, rather than smug.
"Yep. Got it."
He just stood, desperate to get out that station soon as was humanly possible. To be perfectly honest, the place gave him the creeps. Ever since he'd been a kid, cops scared him - he never knew why – and so he vowed that he'd do his best never to end up in one. Obviously, given his past record he'd FAILED in that mission, but that didn't mean he'd conquered the fear. No, he'd just been stupid and got caught.
"Right. Here's your stuff. PC Ryder, can you show Conrad out of the building please?"
Mel stepped forward and stood by Conrad's side.
"Of course Sir. This way." She led him through the double doors and on the journey round to the front office. As the double doors closed behind her, Callum busied himself with tidying the custody files, positively ignoring the drunkard shouting coming from Cell 3.
A few days later.
Hi, this is Rashid Kapoor, reporting for BBC News 24. I'm here at Canley Common in Canley, London, where a discovery has been made in connection with an ongoing rape investigation. Metropolitan Police officers can confirm that the body of a young woman has been found curled up in the grass. When asked for details, the officer simply said to me that she was a young woman from the local area, but intelligence says she is that of 24 year old Patricia Taylor, an aspiring young model who also happened to be studying a prestigious law degree at Cambridge University. (A picture flashes up on screen. She is wearing a floaty floral dress and is posing in a supermodel stance. She is laughing at whatever the camera bearer has said to her.) Family and friends will be informed in due course. Back to the studio.
Superintendant Meadows just stood, eyes staring fixedly at the screen, almost as if he were willing the screen to burst into a huge ball of flames. Behind him, a nervous Detective Constable Mickey Webb stood, unsure whether alerting the Superintendant to this broadcast had been a good idea or not. He could just imagine the aftermath: funeral, flower wreaths, pictures of a happier, smiley Mickey – with all his limbs still attached. It'd be a beautiful service, with GOOD music blasting out of the stereo (not that soppy stuff most funerals had!). There'd be cakes, sausages and crisps, and plenty of beer to go round, and people would be crying, so many people devoted to the wonderful, never-forgotten Mickey Webb! They'd all remember Mickey fondly, back in the days when his dinners weren't administered intravenously. 'Mickey Webb' they'd say 'was a wonderful, prosperous young man, who was taken from us too soon. He had his whole life ahead of him; wife, kids, sex scandal(!)' his would be followed by uproarious laughter at Smithy's witticisms. Ah, he could see it now…..
"Mickey!"
He shuddered, brought crashing back to earth with a thud; visions of his dream funeral having vanished in a single motion. As he blinked to refocus, he was met with the angry – if not slightly amused – eyes of Superintendant Meadows.
"Sir?"
"Mickey, I SAID we better phone Smithy to come here and see this. That's if he hasn't already seen the bastard press hanging around anyway." Shaking off some of his stress, Jack grinned bemusedly at Mickey.
"You alright Mickey? Seemed you were miles away there."
Mickey suddenly remembered. His limbs! He looked down and – to his immense relief – noticed they were all still there. He assumed that meant the foot-shaped dent in his head wasn't there either.
"I'm fine Sir. Just….thinking."
Jack tried a wry smile.
"I'm not mad. Not at you anyway. But somebody leaked information to the press, and I wanna know who."
He picked up his desk phone and quickly dialled a set of digits. It rang for a few seconds, before finally he was connected.
"Smithy, it's Superintendant Meadows. You need to get back here now. Yeah I know you're busy, but this is important! It is linked, yes. What's that? Okay. Yeah. Right, my office, soon as you can."
He hung up, instantly feeling guilty about snapping at Smithy. This wasn't his fault either. None of it was their fault. He'd just feel better once he had someone to blame for all this mess!
"Right, when Smithy gets back here, he needs to see this. Then…?" He looked imploringly at Mickey. "Any ideas who could've done this?" He rubbed his forehead in frustration. "The thought that any officer in this place would be so…amateur…it's a scary thought."
Mickey just stood, unsure what to do. My money's on this being a Max Carter cock-up! He thought, deciding not to drop that into the mix just yet. For the minute the Super wasn't in tune to Max's…habit, and that suited Mickey just fine. For now.
"Great(!)" Smithy growled, already in a shit mood from earlier. The day had only just begun and already he'd had to deal with ANOTHER dead body, an irritable journalist that had been denied access, a traffic jam on the way back to the station, and now this. He wondered at what point God would admit enough was enough and just strike him down.
"Mickey let me know as soon as he saw it. Smithy, I need to know: what officers are down at the scene?"
Smithy frowned at his question.
"Hold-you don't think that one of our officers would have leaked this?"
Meadows sighed.
"I'd hope not, but how else would the press have gotten her name? You'd have to be prrretty talented to pluck that out of nowhere."
Even Smithy – ever supportive of his team – had to admit that this smacked of an inside job. But why? Surely they wouldn't be stupid enough to take money for it? Would they even get money?
"Okay then, say someone here did do it. Who are we thinking?"
"Well I asked who's down at the cordon?"
Smithy tried to recount everyone in his head.
"PC Stamp – who came straight from home. PC Roberts, PC Huddersfield and PC Forrest. Plus Eddie, DS Moss and….." He strained to remember anyone else. Then it clicked. Over by the body with Eddie. "DS Carter."
Bingo!
Mickey had no doubt in his mind that this was down to Max, and he was determined to prove it. But in his own time. Verbalising his suspicions now would only lead to issues later. So for now, he chose to remain silent.
"Right, well then we need to speak to each one individually."
Smithy held a hand up in protest.
"Not now surely! That crime scene is hectic, and I need as many officers down there as possible to contain it."
As if in recognition of this fact, Meadows looked at his wall clock.
"Definitely. Okay, so we say….2 hours time? They'll be back by then, and will have had refs. That gives us time to try and clear up this scene, and get Eddie to hard labour down in the lab."
Smithy and Mickey nodded, both feeling as antsy as the next. This was getting disastrously out of hand, and no one could feel the clock ticking more.
End of Chapter 9.
(p.s. not entirely sure about the last couple of chapters, maybe needing to consider where this story is going and get a picture in my head. As always, reviews and comments – good or bad – are extremely helpful. Thanks.)