CHAPTER EIGHT
At or around 8.30pm that evening, four different events occurred independently. Each event would have a profound effect upon all of those involved.
By choosing a dining table by the restaurant window of Clennel Hall Hotel, Alwinton, which afforded spectacular views over the rolling Northumbrian countryside, Hodder had sought as much privacy as possible. The hall, a historic manor house dating back to 1541, was populated with the ghosts of many a High Sherriff of Northumberland and Hodder had a few ghosts of his own to exorcise as his thoughts turned to the difficult conversation that he was about to have with Grace.
This wasn’t made any easier by the southern aspect of the windows because that was where he really needed to be…back on Tyneside dealing with his problems. But, Tyneside, just like the solution to his problems was way out of his immediate reach. He had considered talking to her in their room, but knew from similar situations in the past, that he was probably better off doing this in public, because as angry as she would quite justifiably become, he believed that she would restrain herself as much as possible whilst in public.
He was a coward and he knew it. He was also a lying coward, about to lie to the woman he loved and that’s what hurt him the most.
Lauren was rushing around the house cleaning up. Since her parents had been away she could not rely on them to pick up the dirty laundry, crockery and magazines which littered just about every square foot of available floor space in the Hodder household.
The only real urgency was to get these things out of sight as quickly as possible, and the garage seemed as good a place as any in the short term. Her guests would be arriving soon, and she desperately wanted to convey a good impression. A few of her friends had thrown house parties in the past. These were largely disastrous affairs, usually interrupted by parents’ returning unexpectedly, or by neighbours and or the police ‘popping around’ for a quiet chat…As the daughter of a Police Officer, she was determined that the party would be a disaster free zone and to ensure that, only her closest of friends had been invited.
Not for her, WKD wielding hooded yobs looking for free drink and a quick feel up. No, she had assured herself that this party would be different…it had to be if she was to stop her parents finding out. She was very excited. Ricky would be staying the night and they were going to be shagging in her parents bed.
On the other side of town, Baxter, ‘Gee-Gee’ and Steve Benfield, a housing enforcement officer employed by the local authority, entered Tamblin’s first floor flat. The front door handle was thick with grease from countless unwashed hands, and as Baxter slipped on more latex gloves, he mused that as this was happening all too frequently for his liking, then perhaps, he should get some moisturiser. As he led the way, through the thickening atmosphere, the electric buzz of flies came from the kitchen. He flicked the nearest light switch which had probably once been white. It had probably been white about the same time as it had once been connected to the national grid.
In the darkening twilight of the evening, Baxter walked gingerly over mounds of unopened mail and once in the gloominess of the kitchen, the constant ‘drip-drip’ of the tap seemed to form a metronomic backdrop as if it was counting out time as a reminder to him to get in and out of this shit tip as quickly as he possibly could. Stacks of half empty foil containers littered the worktops, mould and maggots flourished everywhere. There was nothing in the cupboards. The fridge, now enjoyed an existence independent of a power source, and had in fact now been reduced to being no more than an empty, putrid smelling metal box. The stench was chokingly bad, but this place, the place that Tamblin had once called ‘home’ had to be searched.
Like Baxter and ‘Gee-Gee’, Steve Benfield had seen this all before. Typical bolthole of a typical pisshead. Benfield would have the unfortunate job of spending public money bringing this dump up to a habitable standard only to watch the whole sorry process of neglect and destruction start again. ‘Gee-Gee’, mindful of his sartorial elegance, stood by the badly damaged living room door, doing what ‘Gee-Gee does best. Nothing.
Baxter had lost count of the number of holes that he had seen punched through internal doors of homes that he had visited over the years. Why did people do that? Was it a substitute for domestic violence? If it was, the figures would suggest that as a crime prevention strategy, it clearly wasn’t working.
Baxter threw ‘Gee-Gee’ some large clear evidence bags and directed him to the living room, the centre of which was dominated by an impressively engineered pyramid of plastic supermarket bags. The bags contained dozens of empty three litre bottles of ‘Chain Lightening’, an industrial strength cider. This delicate little tipple, an invention of scientists, had never seen an apple in its life, and it was rumoured to have the same corrosive effect on the human brain as it had on paint.
Minutes later, Baxter joined ‘Gee-Gee’ in the living room, and it was clear that all of Tamblin’s ‘living’, if indeed, that’s what it could be called, had been done in this room. There was a faeces stained duvet on the sofa, with countless cigarette burns upon it. Half eaten tins of high protein food littered the floor. This culinary gem was a kind of multi-vit form of adult baby-type food. It was given on prescription to combat the effects of alcohol induced malnutrition, to those whose system could not deal with the normal digestive process. Yum yum…most definitely, not!
Save take away food, this was the staple diet of a professional pisshead, the main advantage being that they did not pay for it, thereby, having more benefit money left to spend on drink. Oh how civilisation had advanced through the centuries!
Lying amongst the detritus were a number of empty bottles of ‘Snirmovv’, Vodka. Baxter had never seen this brand before and as he examined the labels he saw that they were badly printed, uneven, misspelt and they did not give an abv, country of manufacture or have a tell-tale barcode. Baxter asked ‘Gee-Gee’ to seize a couple of these bottles as the ‘best dressed man in a flea pit’ made his way through the room with the evidence bags.
The bedroom was nothing more than a room full of old clothing scattered on the threadbare carpet, a very fine example of early twenty first century ‘Floordrobe’. Junk mail, take away menus and a freshly dead cat filled one corner…perhaps the cat had been Tamblin’s carer. Well, its work here was now done.
Despite having developed a tough outer shell, Baxter wondered who would actually mourn Tamblin. Who actually missed the invisible people? His small circle of drunken friends would for a day or two, the bloke in the off licence would, for a day or two, his family certainly wouldn’t. Maybe the bloke at the dole may eventually ‘twig’ that he had not been around recently as their letters and claim forms remained unsigned.
‘Gee-Gee’ left the flat ahead of Baxter and Benfield and was waiting at the car when they got outside the building.
Now it was over to Sykes’s place for more fun.
Would she turn up? It was the question that Dean Parks had been asking himself all day. Katy, a girl whom he had met in the university library, whilst he was posing as a History of Art student called Martin, had agreed to go out with him that evening.
He was excited. It had been a while.
There was a part of his personality, the part that took care of self-preservation that was telling him that he should lie low. But another, far more compelling force told him that because he had changed his appearance by having a complete Goth makeover, that there was no way that he was going to be identified by the police. Unless the wheel really did come off, he felt that he could walk around the town with impunity, especially now that he had used his junior hacksaw to cut off the handcuffs that he had been earlier forced to conceal up the sleeve of his hoody.
Besides that, he needed somewhere to sleep and where better than the arms of an unsuspecting student girl from the middle classes of middle England.
He was getting more excited. It had been a while.
Midway through her main course of Kielder Deer, Grace put her glass of win
e down and quietly said to Hodder…’What’s wrong.? You’ve hardly spoken all evening. Come on, get it off your chest’.
The fact that she appeared to be so reasonable hurt Hodder even more, but he knew that he was going to lie to her none the less. In his perverse logic, he figured that because he had never been unfaithful or done anything (until now) that may put his family in jeopardy, that a whole raft of small, in themselves, inconsequential lies, were not nearly as bad as some massive whopper. How wrong he was. Although he had not intended to hurt or deceive, he had clearly not factored in the cumulative effect of the ‘serial liar’.
And so began one of the worst nights of their life together…’There have been some developments at work and all leave has been cancelled’…he winced expecting an immediate outburst. When none was forthcoming he continued…’Well, you know about all of the cutbacks and things, well, it seems…he paused…(suddenly engrossed by his River Tweed Trout as if it were about to leap from his plate)…that when the balloon goes up they just call people in no matter where they are. Courses are being cancelled, the sick are being hounded back to work and unfortunately if you are in this country they can call you back from leave’…still no response was she actually buying into this bullshit?
Grace picked up her fork and concentrating on the plate, one by one moved some organic garden peas into a sea of red wine jus. Her shoulders gently began to rise and fall in unison with the sharp intakes of her breath which got increasingly rhythmic and disturbingly stronger. She was sobbing.
As she looked up at Hodder, a single tear dropped from the tip of her nose, joining the peas in the jus. He watched as it exploded in slow motion on impact, immediately becoming diluted and invisible in the sauce. In that instant, Hodder hoped that he too could disappear.
‘I knew this would happen. I knew that this was too good to be true…I married you, not your job…why do you always do this to me?...Other people would just forget about work. Why not you? Unless you haven’t noticed there are other Police Officers’ you know…but I don’t have another husband…why is it that you have this unique ability to fuck everything up’?
Now that really took Hodder aback. Grace never, never, ever, swore…she didn’t even know what was going on yet, she could still see through him…were his lies really that transparent? Yet again his flawed logic surfaced…he figured that because he had embarked on this course of action he had better stick with it for now at least.
‘Look, honestly, it’s not my fault (he lied) I hoped against hope that they would not call me…I had to give Jeff a mobile number (he lied) …I was told to stay in touch (he lied)…We were lucky to get away at all (he lied).
‘Take me home’.
‘Lets’ try to enjoy the rest of the evening’.
‘Take me home’.
‘Grace, I have had a drink’.
‘Take me home now’.
‘Come on please be reasonable…let’s just stay overni…’
Grace stood up, called to the waiter and asked him to order her a taxi. The clearly embarrassed waiter asked her the destination, and when she gave their home address, Hodder knew that she was serious.
He could not drive…he was well over the limit. She was so angry that she would probably do to him what he had so recently done to Francis Randall-Ord. But at least, unlike Hodder, she would have had some justification. Hodder made to follow her out of the restaurant. She turned on her heels, her tears now gone she said ‘Where are you going?’
’With you…I will come back for the car later’.
‘You are not coming with me…you are lucky that I am leaving the car with you! You could even get one of your precious friends from the station to come and collect you, but I do not expect to see you again tonight! Don’t forget to pay the bill before you leave…Do not follow me!’
The attention of the other guests shifted from Jim to Grace and back to Jim as he tried to compose himself. He made his way to the room where Grace was hurriedly throwing her things into a bag. She calmly said ‘If I forgotten anything bring it home with you when you come’. She then left the room without another word.
Hodder sat on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. ‘Why, oh why, do I always mess things up?
After five minutes of brooding and feeling sorry for himself he got his mobile and decided to call Baxter. What with? There was no signal. Just great! He hurried from the room after Grace just in time to see the taillights of the taxi leaving the rain sodden hotel grounds. Great.
Hodder, thought for a micro-second about calling Baxter on the hotel payphone. He thought again. He decided against it, opting instead to do what he always did in a crisis. Get shit faced. He headed for the bar. Fuck the other guests.
Baxter, ‘Gee-Gee’ and Benfield made their way to the ram shackled bedsit in a large Victorian Terrace that Sykes shared with a variety of Asylum Seekers, Registered Sex Offenders and the recently estranged.
This was as depressing as Tamblin’s place, the only advantage being that as it was smaller they thankfully would not have to spend too much time there.
Whilst searching through a small bedside cabinet Baxter found a number of used mobile phones. Assuming that they may be stolen Baxter seized these along with a couple of bottles of ‘Snirmovv’ Vodka…one empty the other full.
There were no other items of value in the room so, it was locked securely. Sykes was not dead yet so, Benfield and his team would, for the time being at least, be spared the pleasure of fumigating this particular palace.
Whilst en-route to the office, Baxter’s phone rang. Was this Hodder? He sighed loudly as he answered fearing the worst from his increasingly paranoid colleague.
‘That’s a charming way to greet a girl’.
Baxter immediately flushed. ‘Gee-Gee’ was driving and there was absolutely no way that he was going to talk to Hannah whilst that imbecile was around and listening.
‘Oh Hi, there. Are you okay? He asked in a rather boyish way. He was about to ask if Sykes had come around when a glance at his watch revealed that this was very obviously not a business call.
‘What are you doing tonight? I know it’s a bit forward I just wondered that if you were not too busy or at a loose end then perhaps we could…’Baxter interrupted…’I’ve got to nip back to the office for a short while. If I can get away can I call you’?
‘You had better’…the line went dead.
‘Who was that?’ asked ‘Gee-Gee’…’It was the car park attendant from the hospital asking how you are’, responded Baxter dryly.
‘You are joking aren’t you’?
‘Oh yeah, now let’s get back to the nick, get this property through the POFP (Property Other Than Found) I have some things to do tonight.’
Once out of the car Baxter entered the mobile phones and bottles through the POFP register and left it on ‘Gee-Gee’s’ desk expecting him to enter the property that he had seized. As usual, a tidal wave of indifference had swept over ‘Gee-Gee’ he had not bothered to seize any items from Tamblin’s place. I was too late now because in all probability, the flat would be gutted by lunch time tomorrow if not by the council fumigation team, then by the local parasites who would strip it of everything from the fridge to the radiators and copper piping.
They would probably even use the soiled duvet cover to take things of no earthy use and even less value away from the scene.
To cover all the necessary bases, Baxter completed the search register for both addresses and made a brief call to the D.I. who by the nature of the background noise, of uncontrollable giggling was either in a brothel or out with the temps.
It was obvious that there had been no major developments but the D.I. asked Baxter if he would remain on call just in case anything happened. Baxter was not one to argue. Overtime was hard to come by. Overtime spent with a member of the health profession was certainly an unexpected bonus. However, the D.I. made it abundantly clear he did not expect to be disturbed. Yeah. That was it then…he was def
initely with the temps.
Katy met Martin in the Five Swans, a new JD Weatherspoon pub in the centre of Newcastle. She was really quite nervous about meeting a virtual stranger, but as they would be going to her friend’s house for a party she felt reasonably safe.
After a couple of drinks she began to relax and Martin warmed to the idea of meeting some of her friends. This was all part of the act, but he hoped that none of them would ask him about his non-existent course. He resolved as he always did in such situations to get the girl, in this case Katy, caned as quickly as possible, and he knew the bottles in his pocket would see to that.
Parks was so confident that his ‘new look/disguise’ would not be rumbled that he was comfortable sitting in full view of a bank of CCTV cameras. Part of what excited him about what he was going to do was the cat and mouse aftermath. All he would have to do was to change his appearance again and ‘hey presto’ he had licence to do pretty much what he wanted.
Deep down though, it felt ‘normal’ to him, Parks saw his behaviour of less to do with physical domination, than mind games with his adversaries. He was certainly not concerned about leaving a few clues behind, and as long as they conflicted with any evidence he had left at a previous crime scene, he was comfortable that his Barrister could throw enough doubt into the mix so that the morons’ who populated the jury would acquit him.
In short, Parks had so much confidence in the inefficiency of the legal system that he felt that he could ‘buck it’ yet again. He had been around the block enough times to believe that the only persons who wielded any power, and who took the justice system seriously were the jurors, and that they were the amateurs.
Getting arrested held no fear for Parks. Getting convicted did. However, as he was still technically ‘on his heels’ he could not afford to take any unnecessary risks, though what he was going to do was extremely risky. Parks prided himself on meticulous planning and, as on so many other occasions, he would simply evaporate after he had done the dirty deed.
The alcohol that he had consumed before meeting Katy had fuelled his confidence, and he was feeling good about the work that lay ahead. When Katy suggested that it was time to make a move to the party he confidently took her by the hand. Little did he know it that he was heading straight into the lions’ den. The Lion was not home that night, but unknown to the Lion cub the Lioness was on her way home.
Baxter noticed that his hands were shaking as he brought up the ‘received calls’ menu on his mobile. Was he doing the right thing? Was he heading for trouble? It really didn’t matter because he was going to do it anyway. He was going to do it because if he didn’t he would be asking himself possibly for years to come, what would have happened if he had made the call.
And so it was he pressed the send button. She answered almost immediately. What he asked himself should he read into this? ‘Nothing’ it’s a mobile telephone she could be absolutely anywhere, the clue is in the name you idiot. He always reproached himself when he was nervous.
‘Hi, it’s Jeff. I hope that it’s not too late’?
‘No. Not at all. I called you earlier because I wondering…er, do you fancy going for a drink?’
‘Well, I’m still technically at work. I’m on call until midnight or so, It’s probably best that I don’t wander too far from the office…you must know what that’s like’?
Hannah sounded a little disappointed and said ‘Well, if it’s not convenient…I er…’
Baxter who sensed that the opportunity may escape him, jumped in…’We can meet somewhere equidistant. Why not? I could do with cheering up after the day that I have had’.
‘Okay...where’? So, off he went, getting some cash on the way, not knowing what the night held in store for him.
When Parks and Katy got out of the taxi, he made his way towards the house where all of the noise was coming from, leaving her to pay the fare. Well, it’s not as if he intended seeing her again after tonight, and she seemed so polite that she probably wouldn’t even mention it anyway.
That was why he targeted ‘posh lasses’…they had been brought up properly and would not dare complain, it was not the done thing. But, girls from his social circle, well, they were something quite different altogether. They would have had him by the balls within seconds. He knew which side his bread was buttered on.
The house was large, clean and very well furnished. He made a mental note to himself to ‘come back on another occasion and check it out’.
The one thing that he did not like about these ‘posh birds’ was all of the cuddling and false sincerity that they seemed to display towards one another, forever thanking each other ‘Sooo Much’. But, looking on the bright side it was a small price to pay for getting fed, pissed and shagged.
Parks could barely hear himself think over the pounding riffs of Nordic Goth as Katy introduced him to her friends Lauren and Ricky…they were the hosts. He had better steer clear of them because they looked like ‘real Goths’ and if he was drawn into conversation with them they would soon discover his short comings on the matter.
He also reminded himself to stay off the subject of ‘History of Art’ or any other academic subject for that matter.
He left them to it and made his way to the kitchen where he took out his bottle of ‘Snirmovv’ poured a liberal amount in a tumbler for Lauren before adding some Rohypnol and blue WKD to disguise the dye that the manufacturers put in the drug. He then chose a Hiball glass for himself which he filled with a generous helping of Smirnoff…’Not drinking any of that cheap shit…No one ever told me that you have to drink your own stuff at a party anyway’!
When he returned, Lauren and Ricky were talking to some newly arrived guests, thank God. He gave Katy her drink, ‘clinked’ glasses with her and watched nervously as she began to drink. She was fucking sipping it…He knocked his back in one and told her to do the same saying that they should sample some of the other drinks on offer…the good thing about ‘posh birds’ is that they nearly always did as they were told.
He was secretly pleased that the music was so loud that he was barely able to talk to her…he was after all, not here to talk. At his insistence Katy finished her drink…just like the taxi fare, he did not care what she thought about him…she would think even less of him when he had finished with her. They went off together to get more drinks.
Parks was nothing if not generous and to show his appreciation he poured two large Smirnoff’s and found a quiet corner from where he could watch the comings and goings of the room. Over time, he had learnt that it’s always wise to know your way around a place, but especially the way out, so, after a few minutes he decided to explore upstairs.
Large family bathroom. Four bedrooms all tastefully furnished. Hearing Loyd Grossman’s voice he said to himself ‘Now, who lives in a house like this’?
Once back downstairs, he set about the task of plying Katy with drink and looking for the first signs that the Rohypnol, may be taking effect. Experience had taught him that he had to get her upstairs one way or another, so that they could be alone. It was then a simple matter of finding an unoccupied room. He had also learnt that ‘posh birds’ really could drink when they applied themselves to the task, and that he could be in for a long night. He had however, prepared himself for that.
Grace’s taxi seemed to be taking an age. Had the driver deliberately decided to give her a conducted tour of every contra flow, diversion and set of temporary traffic lights in all of Northumberland? Further to that, he wanted to talk endlessly about his holidays, her holidays, the disgusting parking costs at Newcastle Airport and the cost of fuel.
Should she go back and surprise Hodder? She knew that she could not remain angry with him for ever. They could just forget about it all. She knew he was married to the job too. It was just that she resented being second best to a mistress that she could not see or argue with. She could feel herself wavering, and was about to ask the driver to turn around and head back to the hotel…even a night of
silence with Hodder would be better than listening to this idiot prattling on.
And then she thought…‘No. Let him stew’.
Paradoxically, Hodder was propping up the bar, speaking to the Ukrainian barman about football when a thought occurred to him that he should get in a taxi, go home and make up with Grace. She knew that he was committed to his job. He would just have to try to convince her that she was not second best.
He was about to ask the barman to order him a taxi when he thought …’No. let her stew’.
As Baxter walked into the ‘Quay Taphouse’, he was surprisingly nervous. He kept telling himself that she would not turn up and that it was all a ‘wind up’….’I mean. What does she see in you? She doesn’t even know you, but as soon as she gets to know you, she will drop you like a hot stone, stop kidding yourself…she could have the pick of any man that she wanted’.
Quickly scanning the bar and seating area he could not see her. He knew it. He was a fool for even thinking that she may show up. He spun on his heels, eyes and spirit downcast, he headed for the door, nearly knocking over someone who was entering the pub.
He had to do a double take. Was this because he was now seeing her out of context? He had only ever seen her in uniform before. In the micro-second that followed, his mind began to process the fact that some men were fixated with women in uniform. It did not have the same effect on him. He was around women in uniform all day long, it did absolutely nothing for him. He knew that uniforms were designed to mask the female form, now, civvies they were a different matter altogether. And boy, were they working on this occasion!
He instinctively apologised. ‘No. No’, she interrupted, ‘It’s me who should apologise, I had to get some petrol, and I’m on early shift tomorrow’. As she spoke, she smiled broadly, not one of those ceramic/lazered ‘pay on the never-never’, walking advert for the cosmetic dentistry industry kind of smiles, but a quite beautifully, brilliant, natural smile.
‘Think on your feet, think on your feet’. He flushed, ‘I was just going outside to call you’.
‘No need. I’m here now…can I buy you a drink’? Baxter mentally pinched himself. ‘She is gorgeous, apologetic and she buys her round…there must be a catch somewhere…if this ends now, l can die a happy man’.
Being a bit of a traditionalist Baxter headed for the bar, and was most surprised to be recognised by the large jovial man behind the bar. ‘Your Mate not in tonight then?...thought you may be having a re-union with Francis’. He smiled wryly and nodded over Baxter’s left shoulder, where a very drunk Francis Randall-Ord was swaying behind him, looking every bit like one of those strange anorexic inflatable figures that explode from the ground at the end of football matches.
‘Francis’ took one look at Baxter and growled ‘I’m going to start drinking somewhere else’.
Recognition at last!
Once served, Baxter and Hannah walked away from the bar, and finding a secluded corner table, he briefly briefed her on the brief details that he had of the brief. He wanted to steer the conversation away from his work and learn more about her.
Watching her eyes closely Parks saw that Katy’s pupils were beginning to dilate…it was working and it was only a question of time now before he would take her upstairs, because he knew that the combination of alcohol and Rohypnol would soon render her helpless.
Time to get things ready. Parks headed off to the kitchen where he retrieved the still three quarter full bottle of ‘Snirmovv’…that was something else about these posh people…they would only buy and drink the expensive stuff. More fool them. He on the other hand, bought the cheap stuff but drank their expensive stuff. It seemed like a perfectly satisfactory arrangement to him.
Back with Katy, he could see that she was ‘nearly ready’ and he knew that she would comply with his simple request to go upstairs with him. As they did so, Lauren and Ricky came across the room and asked how Katy was. She was in no condition to answer for herself, so he made drinking gestures with his hand and ‘glugging’ type sounds.
They looked at each other, laughed, nodded in acknowledgement and walked on.
Lauren and Ricky who were pretty well served themselves, looked around the room to see that most of their other guest were in ‘advanced states of refreshment’…so Katy did not look in the least out of place.
It was time to make his move, he just hoped that he could find an empty bedroom, but if ‘push came to shove’ the bathroom or even the garage would have to do, though the prospect of dragging her downstairs again did not really appeal to him. One thing was certain though, he did not want to be seen leaving the house with Katy…that was taking an unnecessary risk, because they could be stopped by a police patrol or spotted by an inquisitive neighbour.
Certainly this was risky, he knew he could not eliminate the risks, but he knew how to reduce them.
Once on the landing, he went into a couple of bedrooms. The dirty bastards…had they no respect?…there were people shagging everywhere. Finally, he made it to a third room. Bingo. Obviously a girls’ room, it was empty. He led the now semi-conscious Katy into the room and onto the bed where once he had removed her trousers and knickers he put on the condom that had been ‘burning a hole’ in his pocket since he met her in town hours earlier.
Parks showed no compassion…why should he…there was no need, she was absolutely out of it. As bizarre thoughts go, he asked himself if Katy was a virgin and how many other virgins he had taken without their knowledge. Strangely, he did not enjoy this…on the rare occasions that he had had consensual sex, it felt far better than this.
Warmer, nicer, kinder.
He was brutal, forceful and animalistic, but as he was finishing, he mused that warmth, niceness and kindness had nothing to do with this. This was all about power.
When he had finished…he left the condom on and pulled his trousers up. He did not even afford Katy the dignity of covering her up, in an effort to make it look like she was sleeping.
No. His work here was nearly done. He took a pillow from the bed, toyed briefly with the idea of suffocating Katy, and immediately dismissed it. Better to be a rapist than a murderer. Like so many serial offenders, Parks like to keep trophies and on this occasion he used his mobile to take a photograph of the comatose Katy as she lay helpless on the bed.
He took a long shot of her focusing on her genitalia, providing himself with a permanent reminder of his triumph. He emptied the pillow from the case, and set about ransacking the room for anything small and valuable.
Jewellery, sixty pounds in cash, a debit card and a laptop (and charger). Soon, he was out of the room and heading downstairs with the pillow case concealed beneath his jacket, as Lauren and Ricky started walking up towards him.
Lauren slurring said ‘Where is Katy’…he stuttered and faltering said ‘She’s downstairs I have been to the toilet.
‘No, she isn’t we have been looking for her’…sensing Parks unease she said ‘What are you hiding under your jacket’?
Parks was thrown off guard for a second, and made to push past them but Ricky put his hand on his chest to prevent him going any further. Ricky immediately felt the hard casing of an unknown object, obviously the laptop, and he attempted to grab it.
Parks reached inside his jacket and pulled out the ‘Snirmovv’ bottle and smashed it against the banister, shards of illuminated glass falling onto the floor together with the Vodka which soaked his shoes and the carpet. He thrust the broken bottle towards Lauren’s throat, provocatively waving it from side to side and said quite coldly ‘Fuck off to your posh friends tough boy…get out of my way, me and your little fuck buddy here, are going for a walk outside…if you try anything…she won’t have to wait until middle age to lose her looks. Now fuck off’!
Ricky was about to start to reason with Parks…’Look Martin…no worries take what you want, we don’t want any troub…’ ‘You’re not fucking listening. Get out of the way’. With that, Parks pushed Lauren to the bo
ttom of the stairs, followed her and kicked the base of her back as she crouched on all fours in the hallway.
The impact was such that Lauren fell onto her front and lay spread eagled and motionless on the floor, her face taking most of her weight as she dropped. Her nose burst immediately, the blood on her face and carpets making her injuries appear to be far worse than they actually were.
This was not going to plan. Parks sprinted for the front door just as the deafening music died. He pulled the door open, ran along the short drive and turned left and sprinted out of view, leaving chaos behind.
Whilst serving his apprenticeship as a criminal, older more experienced ‘operators’, passed on the golden rules of escape. So, in keeping with his survival instinct, and his training, he kept off all main roads, open ground and selectively chose when to walk and when to run. The last thing he wanted to do when he had escaped the initial scene, was to draw attention to himself for all the wrong reasons.
This practice had held him in good stead in the past, and so it did again. The worst thing about this escape was the ten cubic centilitres of semen oozing from the pendulum like condom that he was still wearing on his flaccid penis.
Grace’s phone rang. It was Lauren she was crying hysterically. Grace could barely make a word out amongst the sobs, but it was clear from the background noise that something chaotic had occurred.
‘Where are you darling? Are you hurt? Who is with you? What has happened?
Barely able to get her words out, through uncontrollable almost asthmatic panting Lauren said something about having been kicked by someone who had got into the house. She also mentioned something about one of her friends being unwell ‘She may have collapsed, I can’t wake her up. You and Dad have got to come home …Now’.
Dealing with one crisis in a day was bad enough, but now this! What should she do? She instinctively rang Hodder’s mobile, it went directly to voice mail…’Oh Fuck’. ‘What’s up’? asked the taxi driver. ‘Nothing just get me home as quick as you can…I’ll pay any speeding tickets you get’.
Grace tried Hodder’s phone again. Voice mail again. As she had booked the hotel she knew that she had telephone number in her ‘dialled menu’. She got through and it was answered on the third ring by a disturbingly cheerful receptionist. She explained that she needed to speak to Mr Hodder a guest in room 337 as matter of urgency. She was put through to the room immediately. No reply. She was then forwarded to the bar. It was empty. Close to tears she asked to be put through to the room again. No reply.
As she told the receptionist that it was imperative that she speaks to Mr Hodder as matter of urgency, she gave the receptionist her number, asked her to pass the message on as soon as she saw Mr Hodder.
Meanwhile, Mr Hodder who was in a drunken coma in the room was blissfully unaware of the knocking on his door, the handwritten note that had been slipped under it, or more importantly, the shit storm that was brewing up outside it.
However, he would know soon enough.
‘What to do’? ‘What to do’? Grace searched through the numbers dialled menu and found an unfamiliar number and rang hoping against hope that it was Baxter’s’…and that Hodder had been honest enough with her when he borrowed her phone earlier in the day.
This was certainly turning into some kind of day…straight to voice mail…’What is it with people? Why have a phone if you don’t answer it’? She kept on trying…’Come on Jeff’ thought Grace, ‘Please answer’.
Baxter and Hannah were engrossed in conversation. This was great, she was great…the only problem that he had was to ignore the phone which though it was on vibrate only was constantly going off in his pocket. He hoped that she had not noticed this and misinterpret his look of slight irritation as boredom.
He had to give in, he shuffled uncomfortably and rummaged through his pocket before pulling the phone out and looked at the display, he was sure that it was the number that Hodder had called him from before. He apologised to Hannah saying ‘I really ought to take this it may be important’. Before the word ‘Hello’ had left his lips all he could hear was hysterical screaming down the line. ‘Jeff, Jeff is that you…its Grace something has happened to Lauren’.
As he nervously eyed Hannah, he found himself saying ‘Grace please calm down’…She didn’t and he could barely make out a word that she was saying. He raised his voice and said as strongly as he could muster without giving the wrong impression to his new companion…’Stop it!’
Hannah shuffled uncomfortably in her chair, and after what seemed like an age of silence to her, she quietly picked up her bag and without a word made for the door. Baxter got to his feet and followed in her wake to the door, phone still clamped to his ear, looking for all the world like someone who had just delivered the vilest, most foul mouthed insult to an Anglican Bishop whom he had just met in a railway station toilet.
Grace was bawling uncontrollably down the phone. Hannah was making her way to her car…he called after her ‘It’s not what you think’. As she reached for her car keys she turned around and shouted ‘You don’t want to know what I think’!
With that she sped off along the quayside, thinking that her colleagues who had advised her not to get involved with a Police Officer were correct.
‘Just like Doctor’s’ they warned her ‘Here today gone tomorrow, unreliable and dysfunctional’. ‘Yeah’, she concluded, who was I kidding to think that I would find anyone who was any different from my mates who are involved with copper’s…I should just thank my lucky stars that I found out so soon…Fuck him’.
All things considered, the wine chilling in the fridge offered a much better alternative. At least she knew where she stood with the wine… headaches were much easier to deal with than heartaches, and on average they did not last quite as long.
On reflection, she thought that the ACAB tattooed on Sykes knuckles were a pretty accurate assessment of the world as she was beginning seeing it right now. Yes, she was in total agreement with him…‘All Copper’s Are Bastards’.
Baxter had no time to feel sorry for himself, he turned his attention back to Grace and releasing some of his anger on her he shouted ‘Stop. Tell me what has happened. I can’t help you otherwise’. There was silence on the other end of the phone and seconds later a sobbing Grace told him that something had happened at home and that Lauren was hurt. She failed to mention that Katy was unconscious.
Still barely able to conceal his fury he asked her where she was…’I’m about twenty minutes from home’…’When you two get home, Jim will know what to do’…A nervous silence followed as Grace began to sob again…’He’s not here, we had an argument he is still at the hotel…I need your help…you will know what to do. Can you go over to our place and wait for me’?
With what was left of his already evaporating good will, Baxter felt that he was having an out of body experience when he heard himself say completely against all logic …’Yeah okay. Just be quick’.
Whilst driving to Hodder’s house he was not even considering what he may walk into when he got there, he was too replaying the disaster that had been probably his first and last date with Hannah over and over in mind. Should he ring her? Should he trace her using facilities at the office? This was strictly against the rules, and she would probably make an official complaint against him or should he just forget about her?
In keeping with all other emotional crises that he had ever had, he resolved to do nothing for now. As he got out of his car, his mind focused on the job in hand. There were youngsters milling around the front garden as he walked in through the open door looking for Lauren. Baxter did not know Lauren, but he recognised her from a photograph of her mother and her which occupied pride of place in the bottom drawer of Hodder’s desk.
He found Lauren lying on a sofa in the living room, with an apprentice undertaker, obviously her boyfriend, holding her hand. Her face had dry smudged blood around her nose and mouth. He introduced himself and said that he was there at the req
uest of her mother who was on her way. Lauren in turn introduced the youth helping her as her boyfriend Ricky.
Lauren was clearly in considerable pain, telling Baxter that she had been kicked in the lower back by a guy called ‘Martin’ who had attended her party with her friend Katy who was ill upstairs. Lauren was clearly worried about what her parents may say about the impromptu party, but it was equally clear to Baxter that none of that was his business, and that she would have to get herself out of that particular hole. He hesitated telling her that Hodder would not be returning with her mother. That too, was none of his business.
Ricky took Baxter to Lauren’s bedroom where he saw that the young girl who was identified as Katy was lying under a duvet. He checked her vital signs she was unconscious, her pulse was weak her breathing shallow and she had a very unpleasant pallor to her skin. He reached for his mobile dialled ‘three nines’ and requested an ambulance.
For a brief second he hesitated about calling the police, then realising that he had to ‘cover his back’. This was after all, Hodder’s problem and not his, he thought better of it and also requested the police, mentioning the assault on Lauren and providing the address details.
It was fairly obvious to Baxter that most of these young persons had been drinking, but he suspected that Katy’s condition was not entirely down to alcohol alone though her breath did smell of the stuff.
He asked Ricky to go downstairs and get one of the other girls to come upstairs to look after Katy…he did not know what had happened to her. He did not know Ricky, and was not going to leave Katy alone with an unknown male whilst she was this vulnerable.
Ricky came back upstairs with a girl who identified herself as Valerie Simpson, a friend from Uni. He left them together telling her to get him if she deteriorated in any way. He then went downstairs to try to establish the facts and find out the names of all those who had attended the party, whether they were still present or not.
Whilst he was in the garden taking details, a taxi screeched to a halt outside the house. Grace jumped from the car and ran past Baxter and into the house. Hot on her heels was an irate taxi driver demanding the fare. Baxter stopped him going into the house, calmed him down and said…’I will get your money for you’.
Meanwhile in the living room Lauren and Grace were in floods of tears. It was a very touching, but somewhat pathetic scene, that Baxter felt embarrassed to interrupt…’Er hmm, sorry Grace but the nice taxi driver would like to be paid’.
Composing herself for a second she said ‘How much does he want?’
‘The figure of fifty pounds was mentioned’.
She went ballistic ‘How much!’ she screamed at the top of her voice, ‘I’ve only come from Northumberland not fucking Narnia’. Her mood was clearly not helping the situation, so fearing that the taxi driver may also be in need of an ambulance if he hung around much longer, Baxter paid him with the money that he had earlier earmarked for spending on Hannah. Easy come, easy go.
A thought occurred to Baxter…’Get the fifty quid off Hodder…then kill him’.
Moments later, uniformed officers and an ambulance arrived in tandem. Baxter explained to his colleagues that he was a family friend of the Hodder’s and as D.S. Hodder was out of the area at this time, his wife asked him for assistance.
Baxter was more concerned about Katy than he was about Lauren and took the paramedics upstairs to where she still lay. Her condition had not deteriorated but the crew were concerned enough to suggest that they should admit her. It was only at the point where they were putting her into a chair to take her to the ambulance that Baxter noticed that she was naked from the waist down.
He immediately feared the worst having earlier been told of ‘Martins’ rapid exit from the house.
Returning downstairs he suggested to the uniforms present that it may be as well to consider that Katy had been recently sexually active, but that unfortunately, she may not have been aware of it. He therefore suggested that the duty D.I. was informed, and that complete details of those attending the bash should be obtained.
He advised them to ‘secure’ the whole house but especially the bedroom, which for the time being at least should be viewed as a crime scene. It appeared to Baxter that he was now ‘back at work’, and he was not in the least bit happy about it.
Both Grace and Lauren had calmed down sufficiently, so that Baxter was able to take them to the General Hospital. He was pretty confident that the injuries were not serious. He had no idea if Lauren would be detained overnight and gently suggested to Grace that she may want to take some money for a taxi home.
Baxter, like all officers, regardless of department, spent far too much time hanging around hospitals. Furthermore, he had seen enough of these featureless corridors for one day. Plus, he had his own pressing problem to sort out.
After calling out and informing all of the ‘appropriate individuals’ he asked himself…’What should I do’?
He contemplated calling Hannah to apologise. He reasoned that even if she didn’t accept his apology then, at least, he had tried.
He decided to give Hodder a call at Clennel Hall so, he returned to the office, obtained the number, and asked to be put through to Mr Hodder’s room. The phone seemed to ring for an age and he was just about to hang up when a groggy, vaguely familiar, but obviously intoxicated voice answered with a gruff ‘Yeah’.
‘Jim? Is that you?’
‘Yeah what do you want? Do you know what time it is?’
‘Yes I do, and I could do without getting involved in your domestics’.
‘Well, just keep your nose out…Anyway, how do you know we had an argument?’
‘Well Jim, it’s pretty difficult to avoid when your wife rings me up in hysterics’.
‘I’m going back to sleep…she’ll get over it’.
‘Don’t flatter yourself. She was not in hysterics over you. Lauren has been assaulted, Grace was miles from home and she asked me for help, so I went round to your place’
‘What happened?’
Baxter filled the now rudely awake Hodder in on the facts relating to Lauren, and only scant details of Katy. Baxter knew that Hodder deserved to know everything, but it was obvious from the slur in Hodder’s voice that he had been drinking heavily, and that he would only get in the way if he came home tonight especially with everyone’s feelings running so high.
‘I’m gonna drive down tonight’ said Hodder.
‘No. You are not. You are in no fit state to drive. Have some sleep and come down early in the morning’.
‘Come and get me Jeff’.
‘Sorry, I’ve been on all day…I still have things to do and to be honest, well, I’m pretty pissed off with you…This whole thing has caused personal problems for me. I will see you in the morning after I have finished covering your back’. Without another word Baxter ended the call, updated the computer regarding the minor assault at the party. However, it was the not the comatose girl but the girl of his dreams which stopped him dreaming that night.
When he was about a mile from the scene of the party, and his dirty deed, Parks got onto a bus and headed for the 24 hour Tesco supermarket upon Norham Road, in a rather anonymous part of North Shields. He figured that it was time for a change of look. He put the pillow case and contents in a bin adjacent to the door before entering this shopaholics’ paradise.
He had a quick walk around the clothing department, selected two identical tee shirts, two jumpers and two pairs of jeans. He took them to the fitting room. He bit through the security tags on one item of each, and put them on under his existing clothes. God it was hot!
He then replaced, the tagged items back on display and CCTV footage, though it would never be checked would show him doing just that. He was nothing if not thorough!
Calmly walking to the hair products aisle, he chose two bottles of strawberry blonde dye, one of which he removed from the packaging and pocketed before placing the empty box back on the shelf behind the b
ox that was still intact.
He then made his way to the ‘in door’ and calmly walked out as a family of four came in for a late night shop. Saves the cost of babysitters’ thought Parks as he collected the pillowcase before he made his way to the charity skips at the far side of the car park. He then removed his outer clothing and condom before putting them in the skips, emerging ‘butterfly-like’, born again.
A glance at his watch, reminded him of two things a) there is just enough time to get to a bus to Newcastle and b) he needed a new watch because you can never tell what evidence of identification a witness or victim would remember. Once in the centre of Newcastle, he boarded another bus which took him along Scotswood Road getting off in the region of the Business Park. He had had rich pickings here in the past. The park was filled with call centres and other office blocks. The contents of parked cars were not for him tonight as he made his way to the riverside where he threw his watch into the fast flowing River Tyne.
Parks then made his way to Elswick Road, where a once grand town house had morphed into a low-life, low-cost, no questions asked doss house. The main advantage for Parks was that he was miles away from the scene of his wrong doing.
More importantly, to fuel his ego he could watch the Tyneside based television stations to see if he had hit the big time and whether or not was safe to remain in the area. It really rankled with him that he had not made the headlines in the past with his previous actions. There was a perverse kind of esteem being associated with being openly wanted by the police.
In truth, he really just craved the attention, though that would change in time.
Once in his room, it was time to dye his hair to complete his new look.
After a fitful sleep, Baxter was in the office early the next day and immediately rang Grace’s phone, it went directly to voice mail. He did not leave a message. He rang her at home. There was no reply and the answer service activated. Once again, he did not leave a message. Baxter then checked the incident log and saw that both Lauren and Katy had been detained. Lauren for observation to a lower back injury and Katy, more alarmingly, remained unconscious. Reading on, he saw that Hodder’s entire home was now being treated as a crime scene.
‘That’ll please him, but not as much as it will please the D.I. and some of the other idiots in the office’ thought Baxter. ‘Just what he needs. Scenes of Crime Officers’ and god knows who else trawling all over his home and his private life’.
Baxter couldn’t delay it any longer. He rang Hodder’s phone. It was answered almost immediately. ‘Grace’?
‘No. Me’ said Baxter ‘Where are you’?
‘About twenty minutes from home’, he lied.
‘Don’t go there and don’t come to the office and don’t argue with me. See me at the General Hospital car park…there is nothing to worry about (He lied). I will be there soon’.
The choice of the car park served a number of purposes. One, there was a cash machine outside the main entrance, and he wanted the fifty quid taxi fare that Hodder owed him.
Two, he could update Hodder on what had happened and assure him that Lauren was not badly injured.
Three, he had to warn him that SOCO and Co, would all over his house like a rash…’I bet Professional Standards will have a field day with this…nothing they love better than to watch a career going down the shitter. It serves as a universal reminder for everyone else to stay in line’.
Four, he had to mention the condition of Katy, and far more importantly, as far as he was concerned, Baxter hoped to see Hannah and offer some form of explanation and hope that they could get things back on track. Of no importance to him whatsoever, was the reason behind Hodder and Grace’s domestic though he would be involved in that soon enough.
Hodder had a history of not taking advice, and a matter of minutes later, he parked his car a few streets away from his home. He walked to his house half expecting there to be a marked car outside to secure the scene. There wasn’t, so he walked to the door and gingerly knocked upon it, again expecting a uniformed officer to be inside preserving the scene. Bingo! It was at moments like this that he thanked the lord for the incompetence of the police.
Hodder entered and through the dawn light saw a scene of some devastation, broken glass on the stairs and drinks abandoned everywhere. A quick scan of the downstairs rooms revealed nothing more than scenes of general chaos and disorder…just a normal party then?
Hodder went to the bathroom, nothing obvious there.
He then entered Lauren’s room the bedding had been removed, and as he looked around the room he saw a number of love heart sweets lying on the floor at the foot of the bed.
‘The bastard! Parks has been here’ he said loudly and angrily to himself. Hodder went into automatic pilot and with hardly a conscious thought in his head he went to his wardrobe reached into a jacket pocket and took out a small evidence bag containing the cigarette ends that Parks had so carelessly abandoned in the exercise yard whilst he was in custody.
From another jacket he retrieved his digital voice recorder.
He secreted the recorder in his pocket and deposited the cigarette ends on the floor of the bedroom a couple of feet away from the sweets.
This was war and Hodder was about to rage it. He then left his home.
Baxter made it to the Hospital car park and stood next to the main entrance where Hodder would be sure to see him when he entered. He was preoccupied and mentally rehearsing an imaginary conversation that he may have with Hannah, when he was brought back to reality by the sound of a car horn. It was Hodder.
Baxter walked to the passenger side and got in. The car smelt like a Drayman’s apron. Or, to be more specific, Hodder smelt like a Drayman’s apron. They found a parking space, and as they walked over to the main building, Baxter told him all what he knew about what had occurred at his home. Baxter then guided him to the cash machine where he did a little debt recovery.
Hodder was furious. Baxter was unsure whether it was the money or the situation that was causing this outburst. No matter, he was in no position to adopt the moral high ground…Hodder was going to have sort this thing out for himself.
Baxter, on the other hand, had business to attend to at Ward 7 and he was not looking forward to it.
Early in his career, Baxter had been told to prioritise his workload, and not being one to let his mentors down he was going to see Hannah followed by Katy. As he made his way to Ward 7, Baxter was hoping against hope that he may meet Hannah coming in the opposite direction…the last thing he wanted was to have to start a difficult, not to say potentially embarrassing conversation in the presence of her colleagues at the Nurse’s Station.
He was in luck, she was alone at the Nurse’s Station typing on a keyboard. It occurred to him that like police work, nursing was all about keeping the computer system happy and less about keeping the customers satisfied. Still, they had probably both kept countless faceless individuals gainfully employed behind the scenes for years.
She looked up from the screen as his shadow fell across the keyboard. Her face was devoid of emotion and her eyes were cold. ‘Yes Officer…what can I do for you…have you come to see Mr Sykes if so you shall have to wait until the ward rounds have been completed’. She did not wait for a response, turned back to the keyboard but he could see that she had completely lost her composure.
‘I’ve come to apologise for last night’.
‘Oh, that’s no problem at all Officer. I’m sure that it just slipped your mind to tell me that your wife, girlfriend or possibly even both of them were waiting patiently at home for you. Tell me…how is Grace today’?
‘She’s in Ward 5 with her daughter who was assaulted last night along with her friend. I’ve just brought her husband…my boss, in to see them…she rang me because her husband was in Northumberland last night. She called me in a panic…for help’.
‘I’m sorry that I did not have time to explain, but I can understand how you came to the
conclusion that you did...why don’t you give the Ward a call and ask to speak to Grace Hodder. She is the mother of Lauren Weston, my boss’s step daughter. Once again I apologise. I did not mean to offend you in any way’. With that he walked away and headed off to check on the condition of Katy.
It appeared that she had made some good progress and had regained a degree of consciousness overnight. The Public Protection Unit Officer had established that Katy (Surname: Bostock) was from the Manchester area, and was studying at the Uni and lived in ‘halls’ in the Shieldfield part of Newcastle, ‘studentsville’.
Katy’s parents had been informed and were travelling to Tyneside.
Following analysis in a recently acquired Centrifugal Concentrator, a sophisticated device designed to separate toxins from naturally occurring bodily substances, traces of Alcohol, Methanol and Royhpnol had been found in samples taken from her body.
The alarm bells were ringing. It was essential that intimate samples were taken, but not without her fully informed consent. And, as she was constantly drifting in and out consciousness, it was possible that the police would be seen to be on a ‘sticky wicket’ and the samples to have been unlawfully obtained under those circumstances. It was imperative that her parents arrive soon.
Katy’s clothing had been seized and a round the clock police guard had been mounted on her. There was little that Baxter could do here, so, sometime later, he made his way to Ward Five where ‘The Hodder’s were congregated around a bed in the corner of the ward.
As he made his way to the bed one of the Nurses at the Station asked Baxter who he was. When he identified himself he was given a yellow ‘post it’ with an extension number written upon it. He borrowed the phone at the station and dialled the number…Hannah answered.
When she spoke she said ‘I’m Sorry…I’ve done a bit of digging about you…it seems that you are a Knight in Shining Armour after all…I have met Grace…I stupidly just wanted you to feel how I felt last night. I am very sorry. Can I call you later’?
‘Of Course’….he put the phone down. ‘Well that’s one of the hurdles out of the way…time for the rest of the steeple chase’, he thought as he made his way over to ‘The Hodder’s. Lauren was sitting up in bed and like her parents, she wore an expression that suggested fatigue and distress.
Baxter was conscious that he was in danger of crossing the boundary between friend and colleague, and in truth he felt a little uneasy being so close to the epicentre of such a personal and potentially embarrassing incident. Hodder explained to Baxter that they were waiting for the ward doctor before Lauren was going to be discharged.
Just at this point, Ben Heath walked into the ward. Under normal circumstances, the D.I. would have attended but, out of friendship or the D.I.’s obvious loathing for Hodder, and his clear lack of backbone, Heath attended in his absence to deliver a killer blow to Hodder.
Heath explained that as Hodder’s home was now effectively now a crime scene. He would therefore, not be allowed back in the short term, and that because of an obvious conflict of interest Hodder would not be involved in any aspect of the investigation. No amount of protestation would change Heath’s mind. In truth, Heath was doing the sensible thing to protect the integrity of the investigation, the police and even Hodder himself.
The final blow came when Heath told Hodder to resume his ‘holiday’…’You must be joking Ben, how can I do that…look let me return to normal duties…I will stay out of the way. On the plus side, you will know where I am…so, I can’t interfere’. Ben Heath who knew Hodder almost as well as Hodder himself, did not believe this for a second, but at least if Hodder did force the wheel to come off he would at the very least, be within an arm’s length.
In a huddled conversation with Heath, Hodder explained that if he had to tell his wife and daughter that their home was effectively a ‘no-go zone’ for them then he would have to attend to collect some clothing and personal items so that they would require whilst ‘homeless’. Hodder also pointed out that as the ‘injured party’ it was essential that he attended the scene to advise the police as to what if anything was lost stolen or damaged.
Heath tentatively agreed on the condition that Baxter would accompany him effectively as a chaperone/supervisor. Heath knew that this too would attract criticism ‘from the other side’ in any eventual court case, but, as a veteran of many bruising encounters in the witness box he knew that he was more than capable of intimidating the most able of advocates.
Hodder of course, had another together more personal agenda…he was out for revenge.
In an instant, Hodder was faced with a number of obvious questions that Grace and Lauren would have, that he could not answer immediately. Where would they go? How long would they stay there? Were they in danger? And the universal unanswerable question…Do you know who did this and will you catch him?
And so it was with a heavy heart that Hodder turned away from his colleague, to face his family, his face ashen grey, with a look upon it which said…there is no situation that a Police Officer can’t make worse.