This story makes reference to a lesbian relationship and also to issues of self harm, often in a little bit of detail. If this is likely to offend you, please turn back now rather than clock up my inbox with abuse. Much obliged.
“You’re a good man Jim, and a good…” June paused; she couldn’t finish that sentence, not now, maybe never. But he didn’t let it drop.
“Good what June?” He flung at her, his usually placid eyes hanging on the edge of a place she didn’t want to follow.
“A good…friend” she finished lamely. She watched as his eyes registered her denial, the way anger flared briefly in his face, and then as the rejection hit the blank mask that battened down his weathered features. He turned sharply and she deflated, shoulders sagging. Damn. At times she hated her life.
***
His lips were uncharacteristically tender against her cheek, a gesture of comfort, friendship, innocent and gentle, but he hadn’t quite pulled away, his breath was hot as it fanned across her skin, down to her neck. She shivered and drew a ragged breath, turning her face. He was too close, radiating heat into her cold bones, numbed by too many hours on the warehouse floor, trussed. He was too close, she was too lonely, too drained, too many years on the job, too many hours, chances, one too many lifetimes. Too many riots, too many times she should be dead. It sometimes surprised her when she woke up on a morning, to find she was still alive, still breathing. There was no reason she could see for her still being alive, except some great cosmic sense of humour. She’d pinch herself sometimes, just to check she was still vivified, could still feel. There was no other way to verify it, no other reason for her living, no one to care if she was home early or late. He was too close, too comfortable, too comforting, too Jim.
She had smiled as he’d lifted his hand to her face, capturing her jaw, drawing a lazy thumb over her lower lip, did her really need to hold her? Didn’t he understand she wasn’t going to run from this? Darting her tongue across her lower lips, she licked the calloused skin, swirling its metallic taste across her palate and smiled lazily as his eyes darkened. And then his lips were on her, full and demanding. Yet still tender. And she took a step backwards, her torso slamming into the cabinet, the combined weight of two bodies. A low moan of arousal seeped from the back of her throat and she felt Jim respond, his hand snaking up her back, resting on her neck, his large hands splayed across her skin. He was pulling her into him again. He didn’t understand, she wasn’t going to run from this.
***
June sighed and dropped the paper file onto her steadily overloading desk. She shook her head in frank astonishment as the powers that be and idly contemplated which cosmic force she’d managed to offend with such alacrity they deemed it necessary to unravel her life to quite this extent. Damn Jim Carver, damn insecure women and damn CSU to hell and back again. She slammed her body into the grey chair and paused to gather herself for a few moments. The corridors seemed quiet today, well quieter than they used to be, but that was to be expected she supposed, the fire and the deaths had subdued everybody. A ghost of a smile edged at her lips. Everybody but Jim it seemed, even after the memorial service he’d seemed a little brighter than the others around them, he did tend to walk with a little bounce as well now she thought about it. The smiled broke into a grin for a few seconds as she thought about the man boy she’d puppy walked all those years ago and the battle scared man she knew now. Time can do so much. And so little she mused, her eyebrows hiked at the absurdly crass comment and the absurdly true wisdom. Things had changed, friends had moved on, some dead, some in other countries, other lives, with people she’d never know, her father had finally died. She knew new people, new relationships. And yet through it all there were still the walls of this station, Tony, Matt, the cuts, the scars and Jim. She dropped her head into her hands and gave herself a mental shake. She wasn’t going to even go there. The old arguments rattled around her head, command structures, friendship, fear, her father. She stopped the train of thoughts again as the isolation and empty bed began to creep into consciousness. She moved her right hand slowly to her ribs, the raised lesions clear and rough even through her shirt. Caressing them briefly for a moment, the warmth of her skin comforting against her hand, the swell of her breast a welcome weight as it rested on her thumb. She sat up purposefully. Momentary weakness was no reason to cause her and Jim any more grief. She blinked back the tears which threatened and opened the first case file.
***
200 hundred and twenty miles away, as the crow flies that is, Katy Black, a clerk at the Halifax Building Society, Morley, punched her security clearance code into the keypad and leant wearily against the door of the locker room. Loosening her neck muscles she reached into her locker, slung her coat on, grabbed her keys and slammed the door shut with a satisfying clang. Another shift over. Another day another dollar. That was the saying wasn’t it? Making a mental note to pick up more cat food she headed out of the side door, into the cobbled alley that was there and smiled as the weak March sunshine hit her face. She exited into the bustle of Friday lunchtime, cast a quick eye around the small shopping plaza and began the uphill struggle to the supermarket. It was pensioners mostly, the odd truant from school, but those who’d coped with the week usually managed to make it through Friday afternoon, at least there was the reward of the weekend, that odd rush as you know there’s nothing but doing nothing for two whole days. It was a feeling she remembered well. She smiled ruefully, perhaps if she’d hadn’t liked being free from school so much she’d still be there, rather than a trainee employee in a Building Society. She smiled at an elderly couple as they made their way past her, arm in arm, progress slow, halting even, but it was nice to see them together. Most of those here were alone, and the strain showed on their faces, perhaps they had a spouse, waiting at home, too ill or too lazy to come out, but she suspected that most were alone. That was her worst nightmare. Loneliness. She was saddened for a minute, imagining all those people who would be alone on nights, cold, perhaps depressed, on the streets. Somehow it put her life into sharp perspective. And walking into the supermarket her train of thought was broken by the once bright yellow of the décor and she turned her mind to happier thoughts as she stocked up for the cat, retrieved a few luxury items and headed to the checkouts. At least I’ve got Amy she thought, and smiled as she joined the express queue. A man came and stood in line behind her, tall and gangly. His clothes well made but ill fitting, hair balding and recently styled at a salon three doors down. He reached for a tin of baked beans someone had discarded earlier in the day and placed it on the belt carefully. He reached for the ‘next customer’ divider and also placed it carefully on the belt between the can and Kate’s shopping. He quickly reached for another and placed it on the other side of his can, scarcely hearing as the customer thanked him, noting with quiet pride how the can was equidistant between all it’s confines, the side of the belt and the two dividers. Also lost in her own thoughts, and later, on the bus ride her book, Kate also failed to notice her fellow shopper, or the fact he followed her onto the 52 bus, and shadowed her as she disembarked.
***
June heard the door click behind her and kicking her black, sensible regulation shoes to one side, letting them join the untidy heap by the stairs, she felt herself sag into the weekend. She had 3 days, three whole days, without any of that shit to bother her. No job, no crime, just bad telly and Toto. She padded into the kitchen studiously ignoring the bloody tissues that she’d never cleaned up this morning and flicked the kettle into unwilling life. She needed a new one, had for months now, just never really seemed to get around to buying one. She sighed wearily as it boiled, could make the trip into town on Saturday, and if the worst came to the worst there was always the Argos catalogue. Passing through the lounge to pick up the paper from the doormat she humphed out a quick laugh. ‘No! Not really ready for Argos home delivery yet girl, she told her self sternly and glanced through the front page. She scooped up the tissues as the passed by the coffee table again and tossed them into the bin. Caught by the vibrancy of the blood she held the swing lid open a few seconds and took in the saturated mass, still damp after the hours of her shift. Okay so maybe it wasn’t Argos home delivery .she needed, but it was damn sure something. Dropping the lid she flicked off the kettle which was boiling away merrily in the corner, quite content to boil dry unless she stopped it. Tipping a generous helping of coffee into a mug June sloshed the boiling water over the granules, watching as the dark liquid rose. Picking it up she carried it into the lounge and settled into the blue sofa. As she did so a stray lyric wound its way through her head, ‘and it’s sad that we weren’t born like horses and sheep, to know where we’re going to know what we need’. Marvelling at the quirks of her mind she sipped the liquid. Sad indeed not to know what you need.
***
Jim glanced down at the fax he held in his hand and then back up to the two commanding officers before him.
“You’re serious?”
Gina Gold smiled and he could see the barely concealed mirth, but all that came out of her mouth was a succinct “Absolutely.”
Jim turned to Jack Meadows and raised his eyebrows expectantly, “Is there no one else who can go guv?”
“I’m sorry Jim, Yorkshire have asked for you personally and for the head of the new CSU unit, which means June. I know it’s a bit odd not to ask for CID, but that’s what they seem to want. So if that covers it” he raised his head as two perfunctory nods were directed at him “I have some detectives to sort out. Gina if you could come up to my office in about half an hour…”
“Sir.”
“…And Jim, I’ll see you in a few weeks.” He finished with a short smile in his direction and walked smartly out of the door, leaving a somewhat flabbergasted Jim and an amused Inspector Gold, the smile now fully etched on her features. She sidled over to him as he sat down heavily in his chair.
“Never mind, I hear June is lovely, really…I think.” She dropped her body lower, her mouth by his ear, “Or should that have been “I hear you think June is really lovely…” Audibly chuckling to herself she also headed out of the door leaving Jim even more bemused than before. Picking up his tea he opened the dossier Meadows had given him and began to read. He closed it thirty minutes later, rose to his feet, and picking up the mug of cold tea tossed it into the sink. Turning round he leant back against the worktop and contemplated exactly how he was going to explain this one to June. She wasn’t going to like it, not one bit. Well they didn’t have to be there until Wednesday, that gave her forty-eight hours to calm down at least. She would calm down, eventually, she always did. Not that he necessarily minded her angry; she was rather cute with it, when it wasn’t directed at him. The slight tinge of pink that came to her cheeks, the way her eyes were suddenly fiery, how her sole attention was focused on one task. Rather as he’d imagined her aroused actually, aroused and in a nice two piece bra and panties set, the deep colour setting off her pale skin…
He started as the object of his fantasy strode into the room. ‘Damn we need a door in here’ he thought, ‘if I could have had the warning given by the handle turning at least I wouldn’t have been caught leaning against the sink day dreaming, could at least have been half way to my desk…’. He grinned lightly as she smiled at him, and then sobered up as he remembered that smile would be wiped from her face soon. Pity, she looked nice when she smiled.
“Morning sarge, good weekend?”
June shrugged as she headed over to her own desk and then wined slightly as her ribs protested at the movement.
“Yeah not bad. Hardly packed with fun filled excitement I bought a new kettle.”
She turned away and began to flick through the paper work, for some reason this morning she really didn’t feel like she wanted to talk to anybody, her head felt dull, almost as though she hadn’t slept and concentrating was getting to be a real problem. Well truth told it was a mood she’d been in for weeks; it was just getting a little harder to ignore it recently. ‘I need a holiday’, was the only thought she managed before she was aware of Jim standing at her side, a red cardboard file in his hand. She automatically reached out to take it but he dropped it to the desk. The sound as it hit the wood shook her out of her reverie a little.
“Well if it’s excitement you want this might help.”
She raised her eyebrows as skimmed through the file, one ear turned to Jim’s explanation.
“We’ve been seconded to the West Yorkshire Police, we’re in Leeds for the next two weeks at least, as of Wednesday. They’ve had some reports recently of the attacks on gays in the area, women mostly. Apparently it’s the same person we had down here a few months back, Tony and I dealt with the cases, they’ve been aware of his movements, or at least tracking his movements with incident reports, but it seems he’s settled up north for the time being. And before you ask…” he said, holding up his hand to forestall the question he knew would be on her lips “they want you because they’re thinking of setting up a new CSU and want pointers on ‘integration and innovation’ I believe the phrase was.”
He hazarded a glance at his superiors face and wasn’t surprised by the look of grim determination he saw there.
“Whose idea was this?” She demanded.
Jim fell back slightly under the steel of her blue eyes and then consciously reasserted himself. “Well Inspector Gold and the DCI gave me the file, but I suspect it has something more to do with Chandler.” And as she exited the office as his last words died away that was the last he saw of her until after lunch.
***
Katy inserted the Yale key into the latch on her front door, pulling it back out a few millimetres and using the handle to lift the door, relieving some of the pressure on the lock and allowing her to open it. She stumbled over a tiny ball of fur which wound itself around her feet excitedly as she entered.
“Napoleon!” She yelled, trying not to kick the cat as she struggled to regain her balance. The noise brought the familiar site of her partner Amy, fresh from the shower, down the stairs. She greeted her with a brief kiss and took the shopping bag out of her hand and Katy divested herself of coat and shoes.
“Evening.” She said as the pulled apart, “Good day?”
“Oh you know, the usual, customers come in, customers go out, customers are arse holes, money comes in, money goes out and the shift progresses onwards. You?”
“Yeah not bad” came the response from the kitchen “Relatively quiet shift, got partnered with Paul on the beat which at least kept me away from the Troublesome Two.”
Katy ambled into the lounge and flopped into her old grey chair, letting out a short huff as the cat followed her, curling up into a welcome lap. “Those two still bothering you?” She asked quietly.
“Uh hu”
“Report them.”
Amy rolled her eyes as she joined her in the lounge her tone tired and flat “we’ve been through this one Katybug, it just doesn’t work like that. Some people don’t like me because I’m bossy, some people don’t like me because I’m gay, that’s life, and you don’t deal with it by running to your superiors at the first sign of trouble. I need to show people that I can stand up for myself.” She stood up, and headed back into the kitchen as the oven signalled its cooking time was over, and paused by Katy's chair absently stroking the soft fur ball. “I know it’s hard for you to watch this, and I know how much you want to protect me but I work with these people and I’ve got to handle this my own way.” She leant down and kissed the thick dark curls of her lover’s head. “Dinner’s ready.” She said simply and left Katy to follow her.
***
June took one last glance around her bedroom, picked up the checklist she always made herself when she went away, reviewed each item and picked up the red travel case. Idly fingering the envelope of blades which lay open on her dressing table she contemplated taking them. It would be hard with out them for two weeks, but then again there was no way she was risking Jim seeing them, there may not be much of her dignity left where he was concerned, but she was clinging to the last of it with both hands. The digital clock flicked smoothly onto 8.30. Time to pick up Jim. She slung the weighty bag over her shoulder and made her way downstairs. Dumping the bag by the front door she toured the house switching off the sundry electrical items she wasn’t going to be using for the next few weeks. No point in being a fire hazard, loosing another house and another cat to flames was not her idea of a welcome return. Hesitating at the top of the stairs she headed back into her bedroom and grabbed the white envelope, shaking the small blades to one side, flicked the flap down and then folded it twice into a tight package. This she slipped into the side pocket of her bag and stepped out into a drizzly morning without so much as a thought to the wisdom of it all.
Three hours later they were half way up the M1, Jim had finally fallen quiet, thanks most likely to the fact he was dozing merrily, his head lolling against the seatbelt in a manner likely to cause him gripe later on. June smiled involuntarily at the sight of his peaceful face and inserted a CD into the machine, relaxing almost visibly as the familiar sounds of Nanci Griffith filled the small space. Ignoring the basics of good driving she removed her right hand from the wheel, and rested her left, using only the strength in her wrist to steer the car, and automatically reached for the cross which was hanging around her neck. Pulling it out June arranged it over her black polo neck jumper and brought it to her lips, kissing it briefly before letting it fall once again. She contemplated it as her hand once again would its way under her jumper to caress the scars there, almost an unconscious movement nowadays. It wasn’t a piece of jewellery she wore often, it was too precious to her to risk wearing on the beat, and she was too guarded of what it symbolised to really want to wear it openly at work. She did pause momentarily to wonder why then she was happy to wear it in front of Jim, but carefully sidestepping the glaring answer, filing it in the part of her mind which read ‘Explosives. Do not touch’. At least she tried, but just as had happened often lately the idea kept nagging at the back of her mind, and it was somehow getting missed up with her father. She cursed her own mental state as her childhood raised it’s ugly chest again and taking a shuddering breath she could feel the heaviness crash into her chest, and the unsettling urge to clench her hands as the tension slowly invading her body. Perhaps it was a good thing she’d brought the razors after all.
She stole another quick glance at the man sleeping fitfully beside her, and sighed as a wave of compassion and loneliness over took her. She could still see the young man behind the lines and time scars his face held, a man she’d watched grow, picked up from a few dangerous places. Old friends.
“So when the hell did I fall in love with you then Jim? Hmm?” She addressed the question at the sleeping figure as the bright colours of the motorway blurred into fractured shapes as tears sprung unbidden to her eyes. Swallowing hard she let out a frustrated breath and swiped at her eyes with her free hand.
“See what you do to me? It’s not good, not good at all. Three hours in close confines with you and I don’t know if I’m coming or going. And you know how much I hate that.” She huffed out a small laugh. ”You pushing really doesn’t help either, not that I’m complaining too much mind, it’s nice to have someone pay me a little attention.” She smiled again, a contented, lazy smile, “You make me feel good Jim, it’s a long time since I felt that, shame I don’t know quite what to do with these feelings isn’t it?” Feeling her tears rise again June gave up the treacherous line of thought. She took one last glance at his sleeping countenance and turned her mind back to the road, consciously picking up the pace to a dangerous point, no way for her mind to wander then. But her skin could still remember the feel of his lips against her own, and as the white carriage lines blurred into a hazy grey she whispered “Don’t give up on me, please, I am trying.”
***
June and Jim arrived at their destination just after 2pm, and checking in with the front desk were escorted to the DCI’s office. As they wandered the corridors, in need of a lick of paint Jim noted and smiled at the familiarity between stations. It wasn’t often they got to look at the inside of other districts nicks, but with the same posters, and likely the same characters in each relief he doubted it changed much. They were soon led into a brighter part of the building, an annex to the old concrete building they had just left. Here there were plenty of windows, to his right Leeds market place arched up to the old Victorian buildings of Briggate, odd scraps of paper blowing idly around the tarmac, and to his right, lying in the basin of Quarry Hill were the never parts of the city centre, The Playhouse, offices, money, finance. Leeds, second only to London now for its growth and wealth. At the end of the corridor their young guide who had been happily conversing with June knocked smartly on a door and upon hearing the muffled
“Come” swung the door open and stood back to let them pass. Jim smiled his thanks at her as he walked past her into the room, brushing against her slightly. He turned round to apologise but as he did so, the WPC merely raised an eyebrow at him, quirked a quick grin at him and shut the door. Spinning quickly again he followed June as she approached the desk. The office was large, much larger then anything Sun Hill had to offer, and set in front of the desk were four chairs. Sat behind it was a tall, thin man, with dark hair but highlighted in the late sunshine were flecks of grey. He smiled at the pair and gestured to the two unoccupied seats. As he obeyed the indication Jim finally took note of the other two occupants of the room, he started in shock and let out a surprised shout of “Guv!” and then a belated “Liz?!”
DCI Rawton nodded in acknowledgment of the pair, her North East accent cutting through the still office “Long time no see Jim. June.” And from the far corner Burnside smiled warmly at then, “Hello Kid.” he said, eyes twinkling.
“Well now we’re all here,” Commander Stephen Hunter smiled awkwardly at the group and passed round four of the fives files which were sat patiently on his desk. “Frank and Liz, you know what’s going on and I apologise to you two for dragging you all the way up North, but needs must. Now what is inside those files is on a strictly need to know basis, I assume you two Southerners have familiarised yourself with the information we gave you?”
Jim didn’t answer, he was too busy staring at the Commander trying to work out exactly who he reminded him of, the Yorkshire accent wasn’t helping matters but there was an uncanny resemblance to someone he knew. Knew well for that matter.
“Yes sir. But I…” June answered
“Good. Now then, June, as you are no doubt aware the reason you’re up here is to liase with Sergeant Alan Drake about the new Community Unit, however that should only take you a few days, two at most, the rest of the time you’ll be working with Burnside and DCI Rawton on this case. We have reason to believe that Robbie Kenny is involved with a much larger gang of well know individuals, several of them residing in this area, but scattered across the country as a whole. At the minute we are liasing with seven different regional forces across the country in the hope of figuring out exactly what is going on here. There are also reasons to believe this could well be an international group Special Branch Officer Burnside has the information on that side of things. Now the one thing I wish to make very clear before I hand this over to Liz is the seriousness of this investigation, we have an appalling record at dealing with hate crimes particularly within the gay community. There’s no media pressure with this case, and I’d like to keep it that way please, that means you all have a chance here to deal with this case thoroughly and comprehensively. Any questions.”
Unsurprisingly June was the first to respond. “Not wishing to be disrespectful sir, but might I ask why we’ve been dragged two hundred miles…”
“One hundred and ninety four.”
“Excuse-me sir?”
“It is one hundred and ninety four miles from Leeds to London.”
“…One hundred and ninety four miles to deal with a simple hate crime, no matter how far reaching. Now I fully understand the seriousness of hate crimes and the impact they have on a community and the police within that community, but I really fail to see how this effects us.”
“I think I’ll let SBO Burnside answer that one, it was he who requested the pair of you personally. However I am glad to see you so concerned about hate crimes. I can see why your Chief Inspector made you head of CSU. However I think that concludes my part in all this. Liz, it’s your baby.”
“Thank you sir.” She deferred as they all stood up to leave. They filed out of the room demurely and were marched off to CID. June walked stiffly, her back ramrod straight, still annoyed at being summoned so presumptuously from London and very confused as to the true nature of what was going on. Her consternation was only deepened as she watched Liz sidle over to Jim and utter one word.
“Reg.”
***
Amy headed quickly down the landing, carefully avoiding Napoleon’s toy mouse and walked into the bedroom to find Katy seated on the bed deep in thought, headless to the fact her partner was running late.
“Who was that on the phone?” she inquired breathlessly.
“My mother.” Came the blank response, coupled with a grim smile.
Amy paused in her ablutions. “Oh,” she said flatly, “what did she want.”
“Nothing,” Katy wrinkled her nose,” at least she didn’t say she wanted anything.”
“Odd.”
“Mmm.”
“You okay?”
“I’ll be fine. You know how I get when she calls.”
“Oh I know” Amy agreed “But she hasn’t called for over three months.”
“Mmm.”
Kneeling on the bed Amy wriggled her way over to Katy and dropped a light kiss on her lips. “I’m running late. We’ll talk tonight when you get back from work.” Ruffling Katy’s hair she smiled warmly at her. “Later,” She promised, “I’ve got bad guys to catch.”
Katy rose from the bed as she heard the door front door slam and watched the retreating back of her girlfriend with a heavy heart. She felt ill at ease and had no idea why, it was more than just hearing from her mother after so long, something was up. Her mother had been on edge, she couldn’t put her finger on exactly why she knew that but she just did. It was that odd relationship they had, almost symbiotic, if her mother was ill at ease, so was she. Often reaching to the point where if her mother was ill, so was she. She was sure any psychologist would have had a field day with that information. Refusing to let herself dwell on it she wandered down the stairs to fix her breakfast before she had to head out to work. Later as she wandered to the bus stop to begin her journey to Morley she again failed to notice the tall, lanky man who took such careful note of her movements.
***
June peered at the world from over the rim of her teacup and watched quietly as Frank and Jim conversed animatedly a few desks away from her. Liz was busily tapping away at the computer keyboard next to her, pulling up the old incident reports from Sun Hill, barking a few short questions at June every now and again, often greeted with monosyllabic responses as June remained silently inside her head. She still didn’t quite have a handle on what was going on, now they’d been properly briefed she had more understanding of the nature of the investigation, but even with a suspected drug trafficking angle and implications of involvement at Whitehall it sounded more like a far fetched crime novel than anything she needed to be uprooted for. She could remember the city, from years back; they’d taken a family holiday here once, her and her parents. It was cleaner now, new money being pumped into it, the buildings sandblasted, the dark hue of their industrial heritage wiped clean. The coal and industry long gone, finance was cleaner in the literal aspects anyway. She raised a hot hand to her head, the building for all it’s newness was stuffy and her head was beginning to pound, and it was starting to spin slightly as well. She cursed mentally at that one, she could feel her energy almost draining out of her, the room was becoming slightly grainy, as though she were watching it through a grimy screen and everything was coming at her half the speed it should be. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. She didn’t need this now, not here, in an alien city miles away from anything she knew, one hundred and ninety four miles that was she reminded herself bitterly. Two weeks, that was all she had to cope with, two weeks and she could fall apart in peace. She raised her head and tried hard to concentrate on the words that were being spoken to her by Jim as he sprung over to the desk she was perched on, jostling the lukewarm liquid in her cup as he was brought to a full stop by the hard wood. She realised gratefully that Frank was offering to show them to their hotel and not bothering to reply more than a half smile walked two paces behind the two as they continued their reunion conversation in front of her. She idly supposed it should bother her that neither was paying her the slightest bit of attention, and in truth it bothered her a bit that Jim was being so distant, but as her head began to pound with a greater might she was simply glad for the opportunity to sulk in peace.
***
“No.”
Frank smiled apologetically at her “It was one of the conditions of having you two up here, sorry, budgets.”
“All right I’ll pay for it myself” she made a move for the door but was halted by Frank’s gravely tones.
“It’ll only come up on Sun Hill’s expenses then, and I have orders from your Inspector Chandler to keep you two in check. Come on June it’s only for two weeks, and it is a nice room.”
She surveyed the spacious hotel room with a critical eye, glancing at the cheerful soft furnishings and reproduction prints on the walls, her eyes coming to rest back on the two twin beds, side by side against the far wall. “No. I’m sorry Frank but I just can’t.” She let out a short breath, trying to keep the rising panic she felt at bay, unsure of its exact cause, but already feeling nauseous her heart rate fast and strong in her neck.
“I really am sorry June, I didn’t think it would be that much of a problem. You’ve been friend’s for years,” June, caught up in her own world missed the wink Frank tossed in Jim’s direction “and like I said, there’s nothing I can do about it.”
Still feeling queasy, no fight left in her June dropped her bag onto one of the beds. “Okay.” She acquiesced, not seeing much else she could do, and then followed suit, dropping her body onto the heavy bedspread as Jim walked Frank to the door and he took his leave of the pair.
Feeling slightly calmer without Frank around she raised her head and smiled weakly at Jim as he came to join her on the bed, sitting awkwardly beside her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “It’s hardly my first choice either.”
“I know, I…” She trailed off, suddenly exhausted, “It’s been a long day.”
Jim cocked his head to one side and cast a critical eye over her, only now noticing her pale face and slightly shaking hands.
“June are you okay?” he asked, genuine concern colouring his voice. She smiled weakly as her took one of her hands in his own, able to feel the slight trembling that ran through her body.
“Just tired and I haven’t eaten since this morning.”
“You’re shaking.”
“I had noticed.” She snapped suddenly and then her shoulders sagged and the tears were once again pricking her eyes “Oh Jim, I’m sorry. We’ve got nothing more to do today have we?” He shook his head, “Well in that case I think I’m going to take a nap.”
“You should eat something.”
She shook her head, “Don’t feel like it.”
He glanced at her and she could see an argument brewing behind his smoky blue eyes but then his face relaxed and he nodded at her for which she was immensely thankful and giving her hand a brief squeeze he stood up, hesitating briefly, hovering above her, before he disappeared into the bathroom.
By the time he returned she was already asleep, curled up delicately in the bed throw. Caught off guard by how small she seemed like that he bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead, brushing some of her hair away from her closed lids. Standing up brusquely as if offended by his own display of affection he wandered to the sturdy writing bureau and penned a brief note before closing the door quietly behind him.
***
“June,” he rested his hand on her arm lightly and tried again, “June?” This time there was a response from beneath the covers, “your hour’s up. I’ve got you a sandwich.”
Raising herself on slightly unsteady elbows June shook her head sharply and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her afternoon naps had become a regular feature over the last week and although she felt awful for the thirty minutes following it at least allowed her to cope with the days. Ambling into the bathroom she ran a bowl of cold water and splashed a few handfuls onto her face. Rubbing her eyes with one hand she groped for a towel with the other and cursed as she knocked over her toiletries bag. Feeling the terry cloth under her fingers she grasped at the towel and pulled it towards her, further scattering the bags contents cursing yet again. Once her face was dried she surveyed the mess and sighing began to throw it all back into the small bag. As her fingers closed around her lipstick she felt something slice into her little finger, and after a quick examination saw one of her blades lying on the counter top. It was old, slightly rusted but otherwise clean, she’d had no idea it was in there. Her newer blades were in the room and with a conscious effort not to dwell upon it she tossed it back into her bag. Running a brush through her hair, her mind toyed with the idea, and then before she could change it she walked to the door and called out to Jim.
“Could you pass me my dark top through please?”
She heard drawers opening as he hunted, colour rising in her cheeks as she realised her underwear was out there too.
“Short or long sleeved?”
“Short.” Seconds later a hand insinuated its way around the door.
“It’s okay I’m decent.” Seconds later again a head followed it, the hand still proffering the black top. “Thanks Jim.” She muttered turning away from him. Pulling the cream jumper she was wearing over her head she dropped it to the floor and fingered her way to the bottom of her bag, in search of the tiny blade, wishing to hell she didn’t have to do this.
Pressing the metal against her skin she felt the excitement beginning to build inside her, the adrenaline rush she new would soon come tempting her deliciously. But the fear was there too, her stomach suddenly flipping and she jerked her hand away, just nicking at the skin. Taking a deep breath she placed the blade back against her skin. ‘Come on June’, she told herself, ‘just do it.’ Quickly, before she lost the urge again she dragged the blade across her left ribs and then steeling herself she pressed it firmly into her skin, pressing with more force as the first cut began to bleed. She let out a sharp hiss of breath, the pain rendering her speechless for a few moments, and then as it really hit her she fought to keep from cursing out loud, aware Jim would hear her. Making a few more cuts she switched the blade into her left hand and began repeating the process on her other rib. This was the unpredictable part, not quite enough control in her hand to apply consistent pressure, the cuts to the right side of her body often varied from superficially to very deep. Grabbing the towel rail with her right hand June made several quick slashes to her body, using the cool metal grasped tight under her skin to help deal with the pain. Sinking to the seat of the toilet she reached for the tissues and began wiping at the blood flow, assessing the damage. It wasn’t too bad she supposed, well they’d definitely been worse anyway.
Exiting the bathroom, her head still spinning with the rush she grinned at Jim as he munched happily on his own lunch, seated in one of the low basket chairs by the window. Retrieving her own sandwich from the coffee table she joined him, pausing only to pick up the fresh cup of tea he had brewed.
“What would I do without you?” She asked lightly raising the mug in a mock toast as she sat down and balanced the sandwich on her knee.
“Probably starve to death.” He responded in all seriousness watching as she tensed at his words, “June I’m serious you’re not eating enough.”
“I’ve not missed a meal.” Her voice was defensive a fact not lost on either of them.
“No he responded calmly, it’s how much you eat I have problems with, last night you didn’t eat anything more than a third of your lasagne.”
“Like I’ve said before, I’m not that hungry”
“A piece of toast at breakfast, half a Boots’ sandwich at lunch, an apple the…” he trailed off slightly voice returning with full force with his next words “what have you done to your finger?”
Turning her hand June realised the cut was still bleeding, and she curbed the urge to raise her hand to her ribs to check whether her shirt was damp or not. “I knocked my make-up bag over, nicked my hand on my nail scissors as I was putting it all back.” The lie came easily as she raised her eyebrows and tried to look rueful, thankful of the change of topic.
“You’ll need a dressing on it.”
“It’s hardly hit a main artery.”
“Even so, it’s still bleeding and you don’t want it to get infected.”
Sighing deeply as he searched through his bag for plasters June took the time to assess the other damage. Her shirt was damp, noticeably so around the wounds, and lifting the hem slightly her stomach flipped as she realised a steady rivulet of blood was staining her pale trousers. Dropping her shirt she carefully arranged it over the growing stain before Jim turned to face her one again, sticking plaster in one hand, germaline in the other. As he used tissues to stem meagre the blood flow June contemplated the irony of it all. Here was Jim eager to take care of the smallest nick on her finger, when there were several gaping wounds on her chest and a few other scars besides that which needed a lot more attention. It saddened her deeply that even with him so willing she couldn’t reach out and let him in, and yet at the same time a part of her looked down on him. He had no idea what real pain was like; he couldn’t do this to himself. She mentally berated herself. Correction, he could and had. He’d had his own problems, his own destructive coping mechanism, he knew all about rock bottom. As he rubbed gently on the bandage seal, ensuring it was stuck firmly she felt an odd affinity with the man beside her and the tears welled up in her throat. That was all she seemed to do these days, sleep and feel tearful. He hadn’t let her hand drop, but instead moved his thumb across her skin, stroking gently at her palm, almost unconsciously, unable to meet her eyes. Transfixed by his sudden vulnerability she swallowed hard against the lump in her throat and placed her fingers under his chin, gently lifting his face to her own. Closing her eyes she kissed him tentatively and as his lips opened beneath her own she relaxed into the kiss moving her hand to cup his face. Raising himself to his knees Jim reached out to her, his hands resting on her slim waist as their tongues clashed heatedly. Slowly, unsure of his actions he slid his left hand up her body, dropping his right to a more comfortable position on her thigh. Even through the thick top she was wearing he could feel the start of her ribs protruding from her skin, proof enough to him she wasn’t eating properly at all. As the top his thumb glanced across her lower rib she jumped back as though burnt and stood up hurriedly, chest rising and falling rapidly, caused more from the sudden panic than his actions.
Bowing his head slightly he forced himself to look at her, her face was flushed and she was tense, her eyes darting around the room, never settling on one thing.
“June, I’m sorry…I…” She cut him off with a wave of her hand.
“No,” she said with a deep sincerity as she laid a hand on his shoulder, “I’m sorry.” She smiled at him weakly as she wrapped her lunch in its greaseproof paper and he knew there was more to her words than the obvious. “I’m going for a walk, and I promise I’ll eat my sandwich.” She kissed him briefly on the cheek as she sidestepped lightly around him. “I’ll see you back at the office.”
***
As she entered the CID office June quickly picked out Liz Rawton made a beeline for her desk. She had long ago given up trying to make sense of this investigation and had instead settled for doing what was asked of her to her best ability and letting somebody else, namely Liz and Frank figure out the connections. As she passed a wastepaper basket she tossed the remains of her sandwich into it, surreptitiously checking to make sure it couldn’t be seen by Jim, no point in giving him any more ammunition to work with. Liz barely glanced up as she approached, knee deep in several sheets of paper which she seemed engrossed in.
“June, would you mind heading down to the LGI for me? There’s a girl down there who came in this morning, she collapsed at school, uniform are down there at the minute but it looks like it could be one for us.”
“She’s gay then?”
“Seems to be, we’re getting mixed signals from various sources, PC Springer had a word with her friends at school who seem to say she is, her father denies all knowledge and says she’s only just split up with her boyfriend.” Liz paused there and began leafing through the papers before she glanced up a puzzled look on her face, “Where’s Jim?”
“Lunch, I think. You seem surprised, he told you he was going out?”
Liz let out a laugh, “Oh I’m not checking up on him, it’s just never seen you two apart since you got here, seemed a little odd!”
June rolled her eyes, and chose to ignore the comment. “Do we have a name?”
Liz reached across her desk and lifted a hand written incident report from her tray “Catherine Laurence,” She read carefully, “at least I think it’s Laurence. There’s an Area Car waiting down stairs for you, I’ll tell Jim to join you when he gets back.”
June nodded her assent and headed down to the yard for the first time in a few weeks with a spring in her step and a sway to her hips.
***
June peered through the glass into the small room which housed a single bed, it’s occupant pale and drawn against the pillows, her short dark hair emphasising her high cheek bones and slender face. Catherine Laurence, seventeen, in her second year of A Levels, bright student, Oxbridge application. Middle class family from the suburbs, involved in local Guide pack, plays flute and piano, middle class professional parents, model citizen from model house. Why then was she lying in a hospital bed with damage to her liver and kidneys from repeated kicks and punches? As she watched a slim girl of average height slipped quietly into the room and approached the bed, glancing curiously at the monitors. Catherine opened her eyes and smiled at the visitor who dumped a plastic bag onto the bedside table. She watched their exchange with interest, the two were easy around each other, relaxed, even joking slightly, but she doubted if they were anything beyond friends. As she turned away from the window intending to sit down on the plastic chairs propped against the far wall a nurse brushed past her and entered the room. Drawing the curtains around the bed shut she shooed Catherine’s visitor out of the room.
“Excuse me,” June approached her, warrant card flicked open with practiced ease, “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”
“Oh more questions. Fun.” The girl smiled sardonically.
“And you are?”
“Jodie Chadwick.” She stated simply and then as June raised her eyebrows she added, “mate from college.”
“Look…” June began, taking her arm and leading her over to the row of brown chairs indicating they should sit, “…there have been a few incidents in the city recently where certain groups of people have been targeted due their identity…”
“Yes.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“I said yes. She’s gay.”
“And you’re her…”
“Friend from college.” Jodie repeated slowly and clearly her eyebrows raised in amusement.
“She has no girlfriend?”
“Nope.”
“Has she ever? Her father said she’d just split up with a boyfriend.”
Jodie laughed, “If you can call him that! She was going out with him for four days.” She suddenly sat up with an air of purpose. “Look, I’m not going to repeat this to any more of you lot but I will tell you this once. Catherine is gay, but she’s only just come to realise it herself, she literally only came out to the people at college last week. I’ve suspected for a while, and she’s been aware of it but chosen to ignore it, I don’t think it sits well with other aspects of her life.”
“Family?”
Jodie nodded her face serious, “I don’t really know what goes on but I know there’s something going on with her and her mother. Her family’s religious and if you want to judge their reaction from the one the God Squad at college gave, it wont be good.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing too much at first, a few raised eyebrows, two people went drip white and walked away, but then things blew up a bit, at some CU meeting she was called ‘The Devil’s work’ and kicked off the leadership. Twats the lot of ‘em.” She glanced at a thin watch on her wrist and stood up. “I have a train to catch. Goodbye.”
June stood up with her and smiled at the forthright girl before her. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful.”
Jodie grinned at her “Well it makes a change, usually you lot accuse me of being distinctly unhelpful!” And with that she turned tail and walked determinedly out of the ward. June smiled after her. It was something she’d noticed about the people up here; they did tend to be more forthright. It could take you back a little at first but once you’d got over the initial shock it was a breathtaking change. The longer she’d spent up here the more comfortable she felt, even the initial issues over the room and the close quarters didn’t bother her as much. What was it people say? ‘It’s grim up North.’ Well June didn’t believe it.
Catching the eye of the nurse as she left the room she asked, “How is she?”
“Oh she’ll live!” Came the blunt reply. “One of her kidneys is still going to cause her a few problems, but the livers okay now we’ve stopped the internal bleeding, and we’ve pumped antibiotics into her so the mild septicaemia should be gone in a couple of days. She’s a great lass though, taking it quite stoically. Seems a shame…” She trailed off and June eyed her carefully.
“Would you happen to know if there are any other wounds on her body?”
“A few old scars, looks like there could have been minor incidents over a number of years, there’s a hairline fracture to her left ulna, some indication that there could have been muscle damage at some point.”
June winced in sympathy “That’s not quite what I meant, anything self inflicted?”
She watched as the nurse faltered, “I’m not sure I’m at liberty to disclose that kind of information.”
June nodded, suspected as much, “Thanks you’ve told me what I need to know.”
The nurse dipped her head and proceeded into the room next door to Catherine’s, drawing the curtains in there and beginning the same procedure.
***
She was dozing fitfully by the time Jim joined her almost an hour later, looking annoyed and rather red in the face. “Should I ask?” She quipped.
He glowered at her, “I had to walk here, and most of it’s up hill….” As he continued on her attention was caught by a sudden movement from within the room, an older woman with short hair dressed smartly in a trouser suit was gesticulating wildly from within the girl’s room. “…And not only that but I was waiting around for half an hour before somebody saw fit to tell me that there wasn’t going to be a bloody car available! Had they told me that form the outset I…” He was silenced as June held up her hand and moved quickly towards the window. Curious he followed her and watched her tense as the scene in the room played out. From what he could see the girl and a woman he presumed was her mother, were embroiled in some kind of argument, well it was more like a diatribe from the mother as Catherine lay quietly sullen in the bed, mouth opening every now and again but closing quickly as her mother’s flow never stopped. “So that’s Catherine…” he began, stopping as June glared at him, her attention fixed on the mother and daughter. They seemed quieter now and she saw the mother reach into her briefcase and pull out a handful of books which she tossed onto the bed, landing on Catherine’s legs if her wince was anything to go by. Suddenly June moved back from the room, pulling Jim rather roughly with her.
“What…!” he exclaimed, but she simply glared at him again and he fell in step with her as she moved further down the corridor. She paused as they reached the double doors and then walked calmly back up the corridor.
“June?” he tried, exasperated, but she was striding ahead of him to where the girl’s mother had exited the room.
“Mrs Laurence?” She questioned as the grey clad figure paused and turned towards the sound and watched the approaching figures. “How is she?”
“And you would be?”
“Sorry, I’m Sergeant Ackland and this is PC Carver. We’re investigating the attack on your daughter.” The woman nodded, and June marvelled at the similarity in looks between them, Catherine was definitely her mother’s daughter. “There have been a few similar attacks on women in the area. Did she mention this to you?”
“No.” The woman’s tone was clipped, and if you were going to describe it accurately then it was almost exasperated. “But then again she never tells her father or I anything.”
June stored the comment for further reflection later. “Has she been seeing anyone unusual lately…been out anywhere...that kind of thing.”
Mrs Laurence sighed laboriously and looked at June with barely disguised irritation “And how would I know that? No to my knowledge she hasn’t been acting at all out of character, she’s home every night of the week, sometimes spends the weekends at her friends’. I expect it’s just something she picked up from Guides. She’s a clumsy girl, and they do play a lot of games there.”
June nodded and let Jim take over the questioning, “Would you happen to know which friends’ house Mrs Laurence?”
“Jodie’s.” The venom with which the name was spat out shocked the pair of them, and noticing the effect the woman toned down her next comment. “But like I said, it’s probably some injury she picked up at Guides or in the playground, the doctors did say it was days old.” Mrs Laurence raised her eyebrows slightly and questioned, “Have you finished with me? Only I have another daughter to pick up from dance and the shopping to get and I am already running late.”
“Certainly, thank you for your time Mrs Laurence. We may be in touch.” Jim said.
Looking as though she highly doubted that comment the woman walked smartly down the corridor, her heels tapping with a steady rhythm on the linoleum, dying away sharply as she rounded a corner and exited the building.
“Charming woman.” Jim observed as he followed June to the door of the hospital room.
“There’s no way a seventeen year old girl get injuries like that from the school playground.” June said, her temper thoroughly irked, although she did pause a moment to realise that it had more to do with her feelings of kinship with the girl than the brief interview with her mother.
“I suppose the next thing to do is to interview this Jodie?” Jim observed.
“Done it.”
If Jim was surprised he didn’t show it, “And?”
“And nothing, yes the girl’s gay.”
“So it is one for us then?”
“No I don’t think so.” she mused as she turned the handle of the door and stepped into the dim room, cutting off any protest from Jim.
The pair of them approached the bedside cautiously, Catherine was lying still, here eyes unfocused staring at the ceiling. She turned to look at them as they approached, her face falling as they introduced themselves, a firm mask settling over her features.
“Catherine we wont to ask you a few questions. Will that be okay?”
She nodded her assent and June watched as Jim carefully questioned the girl. June was impressed with what she saw, the girl was holding up well considering the circumstances, damn well if they were the circumstances she suspected. She seemed a little unnerved by their presence, and more than once June caught her glancing at the window as though expecting somebody to be there, seeming satisfied every time it turned out negatively. June watched Catherine’s face carefully as Jim questioned her about the origin of her injuries. Skirmish in Huddersfield over the weekend she claimed, and June could see that Jim was satisfied with her answer, but she’d seen the slight twitch in her face and the way she set her eyes firmly on Jim’s chin, glancing only momentarily upwards.
“…Silly I know,” she said apologetically “But it didn’t feel too bad afterwards, and I didn’t think there was anything wrong.” She raised her eyes to meet Jim’s “my stomach hurt a bit but I thought it was just bruising.”
Jim smiled comfortingly at her and snapped his small notebook shut. “Thank you Catherine you’ve been most helpful.”
The girl in the bed flicked her eyes up to his face and then back down at the bed covers, she chewed her bottom lip slightly and then asked tentatively “you’re not going to press charges are you?”
Jim shook his head at her, “Fighting and underage drinking? I don’t think so, and I think we can close the investigation here.” He glanced back at June for confirmation as the pair of them stood up, but instead she turned to Catherine and eyed her for a few seconds, watching as the girl fell back from the stare.
“Are you happy?” She asked the prone girl and as Catherine looked puzzled June let her eyes wander over the girls upper arms, now covered by the hospital gown, and then back to her face, her intention clearly communicated to everyone but Jim. Catherine paled slightly and June watched as the mask once again fell over her features.
“Perfectly. No reason why I shouldn’t be is there?” And then her face turned and she gave a slightly sadistic smile as a flash of something shot across her eyes and she cocked her head to the left deflecting the question back at June, and finished her sentence with the words “as I’m sure you well know sergeant.”
Shutting the door carefully behind him the pair walked out into the main lobby and the August sunshine. “Do you want to radio in for a car?” June asked him.
“Oh what the hell it’s mostly downhill, it’ll do me good.” And he sighed laboriously as they set out onto the Headrow. “I think you’re right you know, it’s not one of ours. Though she might be less eager for a bar fight from now on.”
“Intelligent middle class girls don’t get into bar fights.”
“You didn’t believe her story?.”
“No I didn’t. She was lying through her teeth”
Jim let out an incuriously laugh. “I disagree. She wasn’t lying, why would she have been worried over charges if she was lying.”
“Oh she’s clever I’ll give you that, she was definitely lying about how she got those injuries.”
“I disagree!”
“Oh come on Jim, she couldn’t even look you in the eye, she was staring at your chin the whole time she was explaining that, surely you noticed.”
“Just as I’m sure you noticed she never looked either of us in the eye the whole time. Well apart from you at the end. What on earth was that about anyway?”
“Don’t change the subject. All right so she evaded our eyes all the time but I’m telling you she was definitely lying about where she received those injuries.”
“Well how do you explain the pressing charges issue then?”
“She wasn’t worried you were going to charge her. You assumed that was what she meant and she let you assume it.”
“Oh, okay Sergeant what was she worried about then?”
“You pressing charges against her mother.”
“Her mother! No.”
“Well who else do you think she kept looking for all the time you were talking to her, she’s scared rigid of her.”
“You’re pulling rabbits out of hats.”
“No I talked to Jodie, she told me that her parents wouldn’t be exactly happy if she came out to them.”
“So what, her mother beat her up just because she’s gay, I know the woman was scary but somehow I don’t think she’d do that to her daughter. And that’s not the issue anyway, the fact that she happens to be gay is just coincidence. This wouldn’t have been brought to our attention otherwise.”
“True and I agree with you about the coincidence, but it’s not that she’s gay which is coincidental it’s the fact she’s been attacked that is. I agree that it’s not linked with our investigation, but its doesn’t mean there’s nothing there.”
They paused just past the Art Gallery and waited for the crossing, the buzz of the busy city hanging in the afternoon air, and June took in a deep breath revelling in the noise and the movement. Pausing the argument for a minute she turned to Jim. “Don’t you just love the city?”
He nodded in agreement. “Result of a city upbringing, the countryside always tends to unnerve me, too many sheep, not enough concrete.”
June laughed at his comment as they crossed the double road, the argument re-surfacing once they reached the other side and their feet picked up the pace.
“Look her parents are Christians.”
“So?”
“So I would have thought it was obvious.”
“June, not every religious person is a bible bashing radical.”
Picking her radio off her belt she activated it “Four Eight to Sierra Oscar.” And glared at him meaningfully.
The crackling answer was only just audible above the roar of traffic and the easy murmur of conversation, “Sierra Oscar go ahead Four Eight.”
“Can you do me a PNC check on an Amanda Laurence? Lima, Alpha, Uniform, Romeo.”
“Sierra Oscar to Four Eight, free to speak?”
“Go ahead.”
“Amanda Laurence, Date of Birth 14.11.56, two cautions for breach of the peace, one here in Leeds the other in Manchester.”
“Do you have details Sierra Oscar?”
“Only for the Leeds conviction, at an abortion clinic in Armley two years ago. A group of protesters were arrested when local residents complained. They became violent when we arrived.”
“Thank you, four eight out.”
She turned to Jim, a look of satisfaction on her face “Demonstrations at abortion clinic, sounds like a religious nut to me.”
“Doesn’t prove anything.”
“No, not in itself,” she agreed, “But a quick check with Jodie about the story should seal it.”
“And how do you intend to get hold of her, do you have contact details.”
“Nope, but I have a canny feeling we’re aware of her. A PNC check should bring her up, I’ll do it when we get back.”
And with that she sauntered along the busy shopping street, leaving Jim to follow slightly behind, noticing the gentle curves of her body, and the swing she had to her hips.
***
Jim groped his way across the room cautiously in the dark, careful not to wake the sleeping June. He lifted the curtain lightly and stared out into the night, the low hum of city life still audible at three in the morning. He leant against the wall, his right shoulder resting on the corner of the window bay and sighed heavily. It wasn’t usual he was restless, but for some reason tonight sleep eluded him, his mind working overtime on this case. He sighed again, and Frank and June weren’t helping matters either, both of them throwing up emotions and thoughts he could well do without. The case was going nowhere fast, too many odd leads, going nowhere fast. Robbie Kenny had vanished into the woodwork, they didn’t even know if he was still in the country, a few arrests had been made in other areas, but with no indication of an organised movement they were nothing beyond a local issue. He dropped his head onto the wall, the cool paint a welcome relief as he pondered the actions of his old DCI. Frank never had fully explained why they were both up here, but Jim had his suspicions. Why Frank had asked for him was a relatively simple matter, simple that is if you could attribute nostalgia and emotion to him. Jim smiled at the thought of tough talking Burnside being sentimental, but he suspected he was. Which also explained June’s presence. Frank had always known how he felt about June, he was sharp enough to see past the friendship to the deeper love that was between them. Frank’s presence was perhaps the easiest to deal with, it was strange seeing him after so many years, and just the sight of him had brought memories crashing down on him. The feeling of betrayal, the hundred questions, the anger, the beginning of the depression and the drinking. The man here with them now had changed though. He was still Frank Burnside and he still handed out advice to Jim as though it were sweets, and it would be tempting to be deceived by the seductive familiarity of it all, the four of them, three old CID and June who’d always been a constant for him. It was like old times, before any of that crap, except he was no longer a Detective and Liz was a DCI now, and Frank was Special Branch with an hundred and one stories about who he was. He had tried to explain to Jim what happened back then, in the limited way he could, but Jim had stopped him not wanting to hear the half-truths he was able to tell him, but accepted his heartfelt declaration of remorse and unalterable circumstance. As he let out another laborious sigh he heard June shift restlessly in the room behind him, and he glanced back at her. A thin shaft of light from the open curtain drew a neat line across her face and onto the headboard beyond and he slipped is body behind the curtains and into the space at he bay window so as not to disturb her anymore.
June. There was another problem in itself. Well no, problem wasn’t the word, she would never be a problem, a distraction maybe, but never a problem. He was worried about her though, less so lately than he had been when they first arrived up here. She had been jumpy, nervous, on edge, not eating, sleeping a little too much, looking tired and drawn, listless and although she’d done well to hide it he knew her concentration had been off form. And if anybody recognised the signs of depression it was he. He’d been thankful when she’d picked up, in fact he’d noticed a change in her the day they were at the hospital with Catherine Laurence. As it turned out June had likely been right about the girl, her friend had denied she’d been in any fights, even seemed shocked at the idea, and Jim suspected it took a lot to shock that girl. Something about he whole situation was still puzzling him though. He still hadn’t got an answer out of June as to why she’d suddenly asked the girl if she was happy. The answer which came back was still more enigmatic. ‘I fine, as you should well know Sergeant.’ The response had an edge to it though, it hadn’t been a simple response, which would suggest it hadn’t been a simple question, but for the life of him he couldn’t figure out what she was implying. The only explanation he could come up with would be the abuse, but there was no reason for June not to mention that in his presence, no need for her to use some kind of code lost on him, there had to be something else there. And anyway June had never been abused. He paused for a moment and then dismissed the thought from his head. No she never had.
***
It was Sunday morning, eight thirty on a Sunday morning if you wished to be more precise about these things and June Ackland was laying quietly in bed weighing the need to get up against her snug place under the covers. As her alarm went off for a second time she stretched out an arm and flicked it off quickly taking a quick glance at Jim who still seemed dead to the world. Sighing laboriously she raised herself out of bed and padded to the bathroom, a little bleary. She took a brief shower, and then stepping out realised her clothes were still in the other room. ‘Should have stayed in bed’ she thought as she pulled the large bath sheet around her self and tripped lightly into the darkened room, the heavy drapes staving off the first attempt at sunshine for the day. Carefully opening the wardrobe she retrieved her jeans and grabbing the other necessaries retreated back to the haven of the bathroom. Pausing slightly as she snapped her bra on June stared at her reflection in the mirror, carefully judging the angry lesions across her body. The ten or twelve cut she had made with the old razor weren’t looking good, they were puffy and clearly infected but she made no move to clean them up. The cuts themselves weren’t too bad, only about an inch long, deep enough to gape slightly though, and cut across her ribs they were close to nerve and bone. She was actually quite proud of herself, there were often cuts across the flesh of her chest, but today her breasts were almost clean, clean even of scars. It never hurt quite so much there, but the cuts were always longer, deeper more bloody. Glancing at the small chronometer on the side she let her hands fall away from her flesh and instead finished dressing rapidly. Applying the barest of makeup she picked up a light jacket from the chair back where she had thrown it a few days earlier and slipped out of the room quietly, the door shutting behind her with a gentle click. It was a pleasant morning, the full heat of the sun nowhere to be seen yet, the hum of the city centre quietened to a few brave souls and June felt distinctly peaceful as she strolled down towards the river. As the passed by the old Corn Exchange, the distinct circular building strangely elegant despite it’s bulk she heard the town hall clock strike ten. She smiled and mentally counted the strokes just like she always used to do when she was little, lying in bed restless, listening to the hours chime by. For once the memory was a pleasant one and a warm feeling settled across her stomach, and suddenly filled with a surge of joy as the weak rays of sun hit her face she laughed gleefully, and continued on her way.
Her mood was not darkened as she stepped off Kirgate and into the cool porch of St Peters. Pausing to glance around she took a few steps forward, joining the back of a small party. As she entered the church proper an elderly man handed her a service sheet which she took with a grateful smile and made her way carefully to a pew, breathing in the cool sharp air of stone and the sweet edge of incense which hung delicately in the air. The church was sparsely populated for which she was grateful, no need to share space with some stranger, however well intentioned. It was Ascension, which she supposed explained the incense and the reduced attendance, most would be attending the night service, but that wasn’t a luxury she had, and then placing the pew sheet as a marker for the first hymn she slipped silently to her knees.
The light was bright on her eyes as she stepped back out into the deepening sunshine and was shocked to spot a bulky figure, sat placidly on a bench puffing away leisurely on a cigar. She approached him curiously.
“So this is what Special Branch get up to these days, obbos on Sunday Mass and lounging around in the sunshine?” Her words were sharp, but the twinkling eyes and quirky grin belayed a hostile meaning.
He patted the wooden slats next to him, “Only where you’re concerned June.”
“How did you know I was here?”
“Lucky guess.”
“So Special Branch Officer Burnside, what have I done which warrants your hunch?”
“Frank.” He gravelled and then added “Nothing directly.” He was being evasive, not something she remembered being a strong trait of the old DCI, but she decided not to call him on it yet, he’d get where he was going eventually. “Come on,” he said standing up, the trails of smoke being scattered in the light breeze, “I’ll buy you lunch.”
A greasy spoon café up by the markets was hardly her idea of a good lunch, but Frank seemed happy here, gleefully making his way through an English breakfast and then merrily digging into the remains of her own. The conversation was light as he ate but as he clattered the knife and fork to his plate, pushing it to one side and lifting his tea mug to his lips she realised that part of the encounter was over.
She nursed her own steaming mug between two hands, resting her elbows on the Formica table and took the initiative. “Why are we here Frank? You know as well as I do this investigation doesn’t actually need either of us, and aside for several hours with Sergeant Drake and a few days with Catherine Laurence, which is pretty much one for the new CSU anyway, there’s not that much to do. The paperwork could be just as well managed by some of Liz’s team.”
“I owe him.” The words sounded hard, even to his own ears and when June didn’t respond he continued, “I couldn’t help leaving the way I did, it wasn’t my choice, if I’d given anyone any explanation I would have been forced to lie to them, and I didn’t want to lie to him, I thought a clean break might be easier.” He sighed and dragged a hand across his weathered face, “I didn’t know it would hit him so hard.
“When I saw him in Manchester, two years ago, I had to lie to him then. And I hated doing it, because I could see just how eager he was to believe what I was telling him, and it was then that I realised just how fragile he really was. He’s a good man June and a fine officer, but he’s always wanted to see the best in people and the world ends up kicking him. I just never thought he’d fall down quite so hard.”
Her tone was soft, “He’s over that Frank, you helped him, he’s okay now.”
Burnside didn’t smile at her words, instead he shook his head, “He could be alright, he seems like he’s managed to find a little humour in the world. It suits him.”
June sighed, slightly irritated by the still evasive conversation, “I’m sorry Frank but I don’t really see how your guilt over hurting Jim seven years ago translates into me sat here now.”
“Because I feel responsible for what happened to him.”
“You’re not his keeper, you never were.” She observed bluntly.
“No but I was his superior and his friend and I let him down on both counts. I should have been there for him. I kept tabs on him when I could, you as well. But I didn’t come back until it was too late.”
“Me?”
He nodded having the grace to look slightly ashamed “He should never have fallen June, I should have been there to stop it.”
June leant across the table and laid a hand on his arm, she understood what he was trying to say, it was the same guilt she’d felt as she’d watched Jim slip into depression and drink. “Just be thankful you weren’t,” She said darkly “at least you weren’t able to do anything, try being there, watching it all and still not being able to help him. You managed that in the end though.” She threw the last sentence at him with a burst of resentment.
He glanced down at the table. “You’re angry at me.”
“Yes…no, I was more angry at myself. I was annoyed at what you’d done to Jim and when you waltzed back into his life after five years and then waltzed back out again I hated you even more, but if I’m truthful I was only angry at my own failings and how much more you meant to him than I did.” She stared down into the coffee mug, slightly embarrassed by her own admission, slightly frightened at the feelings of guilt which were still festering under the surface.
“That’s why you’re here June.”
She glanced at him puzzled, “I’m sorry Frank maybe Special Branch has it’s own code, or perhaps I’ve finally lost it, but the purpose of this conversation has been eluding me from the beginning.”
“You’re here because you love him.”
June opened her mouth to protest, but it shut slowly as Frank eyed her with steely blue orbs, daring her to deny it, a sympathetic smile edged around his lips, and she suddenly remembered why Burnside had made such a good officer.
“He’s loves you June, he’s loved you for many years, it’s often disguised as friendship and I don’t think he realises it often but I’ve watched it tear him apart at times. You could break him again, but I think you know that. I just want to see him happy June, that’s what I owe him.”
June glanced out of the window, her eyes not really focused on the now busy Briggate, instead turning Frank’s odd admission around in her head. Part of her was slowly boiling towards losing her temper, at the presumptuousness of his actions, how he, the man who thought it alright to drop into peoples lives, wreak a little havoc and then go, could dare to interfere in her relationship with Jim. But the other part of her knew he was right. She was halted in her thoughts as Burnside addressed her.
“June,” his tone had changed, he seemed unsure of his words, and it was almost as if the some of the depth and gravel had been lost, “You should be mad at me, and you probably will be after I tell you this, but…” He paused and drew in a deep breath, and for some reason June felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and she shivered, immediately uncomfortable. “Listen, I know you’re worried about hurting Jim, I know the guilt you feel, I suspect it’s the same as mine, and I know that’s part of the reason you’ve held back from him these last few years but I know the rest of the story as well June. I arrested you father.” He pushed on as she closed her eyes “Once, long before I knew you, he told me he had a daughter in the police, was using that as a lever suggesting that you’d be able to get him off. I was only a PC back then, young but still cynical.”
He paused as his voice became wistful and June spoke, her voice flat and unusually quiet, “What did you arrest him for?”
“He was suspected as being involved with an attack on a Tom. He was released without charge in the end. It was my first violent case, which is why I remembered. It all came together when I met you at Sun Hill. By then I knew enough to realise that with men like that it was never going to be just one attack on a Tom. That tough exterior of yours June, it might have kept you together all these years but I think it’s pulling you apart now.”
“Which is exactly why I should stay the hell away from Jim.” She observed quietly.
“No,” he contradicted her, “That’s exactly why you should go to him. I’ve watched you two for years, and it will hurt June, probably like hell at times, but you both deserve this, you both need it.”
June opened her eyes wide at his speech. “Why Frank! When Special Branch retire you perhaps you should take up writing romance novels.”
“Bit late for that June. This is my last case. Ill health.” He waved the cigar in the air to make his point.
“Does Jim know?”
“Not yet.”
“What are you going to do?” She asked, genuinely interested.
“Fairy Godmother?” He quipped.
She laughed, the tension easing, “Frank Burnside. Godfather you’ve always been, godmother, never!”
Frank laughed with her and glanced at a clock on the wall. He stood up and pushed his chair back. “Sorry June, got to go, meeting James for lunch.”
Staring incuriously at the wicked grin on his face she sat in quiet consternation as he left the café and shook her head in sheer disbelief. ‘Frank Burnside, protector and guardian of Sun Hill Lonely Hearts Club.’ What a bloody ridiculous notion, and knocking back the remnants of a once warm up of coffee she too exited the small caf.
***
The hotel room was empty as she returned, hardly a surprise but she was glad, she needed some space to think. Frank had tossed up too many issues, and she didn’t suppose the church visit had helped matter much either. It had been a long time since she’d taken mass, too long she supposed, she really missed the taste of communion wine after a while, the slightly bitter edge to it, the sharp kick in your throat which tells you you’re forgiven, absolved, for the time being anyway. Peeling off her jacket she let it fall untidily to the floor and laid herself delicately on the bed, tracing the patterns of the anaglypta ceiling idly. Tucking her hands underneath her head she turned onto her side, wincing as the actions stretched the skin cross her ribs, the pressure of her body as they rested on the bed adding to the sting. But it was a pain she welcomed, it eased the pressure in her chest a little anyway. She huffed out a short ironic laugh, now, the only in the last ten days she had any time to herself she couldn’t cry. Her eyes were dry and she felt strangely calm. Her limbs felt heavy, slightly odd, almost as though they didn’t belong to her, but for once her mind was quiet. She didn’t know how long she laid there, her mind blank, dozing slightly every now and again, but she suddenly roused the tension in her hands flowing up her arms, not even bothering to resist the urge this time. Dropping down, resting on her haunches she felt around in the side pocket of her bag for the folded envelope she knew was in there and standing back up she peeled the grey top from her torso and tossing her bra onto the floor seated herself at the dressing table. Pausing a moment to let the pain subside the memory of being held captive by that gang rushed to the fore and she began to cry, remembering the tightness of her chest as the panic had set in the blade pressed against her throat. The way she’d frozen, her training forgotten as the memory of being held tight against a violent man had assaulted her, how weak she’d been afterwards, and how she’d let Jim kiss her. Welcomed it even, and how this current sorry mess had started. Wiping forcefully at her tears she choked down the rising sobs as a wave of loneliness overtook her, she hated this so much. She hated having to slash her own skin to cope with her life, she hated feeling like this, she hated crying, letting it all affect her so many years later, and most of all she hated crying alone. She’d never managed to work out which was worse, not having someone she could go to and feeling completely isolated, or the state she was in now, vulnerable and scared, too frightened by the force of her own need of comfort to let Jim in. She picked up the blade again, holding it tight between thumb and forefinger and angry at herself for all of this pressed it hard against her skin and pulled her hand determinedly against her skin, not flinching as the blade pressed deeper, dragging it until the pain eased as the swell of her breast fell away.
She glanced down and let out a frightened explanation “Shit.” The blood hadn’t started flowing yet, and she could clearly see the wide and long gash which gaped at her side. Her stomach flipped slightly at the damage visible and she pulled the wound apart in an attempt to hurry the blood flow. She was startled by the sound of the keycard in the door and jumped up hurriedly, a different panic turning her stomach over and making her heart pound. Pulling open the bureau draw with one hand she rapidly swiped at the mass of blades and tissues pushing them into the drawer and shoving it shut as she reached for her jumper pulling it down over her back as Jim appeared around the wardrobe.
He blushed slightly “Sorry I didn’t know you were changing.”
“It’s okay.” She answered quickly twitching slightly as the flow of blood tickled at her skin. She crossed her arms over her chest, hoping the pressure would ease the blood flow as Jim sat down on his bed, pulling his shoes off, tossing them on the floor. She hovered, agitated, as he tried to strike up a light conversation.
“Frank’s retiring.”
She smiled wanly, “Did he say what he was going to do?”
“You okay?” he questioned and receiving her sharp nod continued looking slightly puzzled, “He muttered something about pantomime and the Italian mafia, but I think he was joking.” He glanced sharply at June as she sucked her lips in, wishing she had not been reminded of the conversation with Frank.
“You sure you’re okay?” She gave him a watery smile and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“You seem distracted.” He stood up from the bed and padded over to her in his socks. As he approached she stiffened and tried to pull her arms higher, all too aware of the damp stained material. He took her by the arms in a gentle grasp and caught her eyes with is own. “What’s up?”
She shook her head vehemently, “Nothing.” She said, her voice cracking. He glanced down to where their bodies were joined and it was then that he noticed the blood.
“You’re bleeding.” he exclaimed.
She wrenched away from him and turned her back. “It’s nothing.”
“June?” he placed a hand on her shoulder.
“Jim it’s nothing, please, just leave me alone.” She could feel him faltering, and she repeated her plea again, hoping the unfamiliar sound of her begging would be enough.
Jim glanced at the rigid back of the woman in front of him a deep sense of unease settling over him, only increased as she pleaded with him not to push her. He removed his hand from her shoulder and watched as she sagged a little, but as he remembered her behaviour earlier in the trip he didn’t fall back as she turned around.
“Sit down.” Her eyes were suddenly filled with fear and he steeled his resolve. “On the bed.”
She didn’t move and he could see her mind turning over, trying to find a way out of the situation. She opted for blank refusal.
“Back off.”
“Sit.”
She turned to leave and he grabbed her by the arms pushing her down onto the bed. He loosened his grip as she froze in his hold and then began to sob silently. Her grey cotton top was a mess, two large areas covered in the deep red stain and he dropped onto the bed beside her, his hands reaching for the hem of her top. Almost immediately June’s hands came crashing down on top of his own, stopping his movement.
“June,” he said quietly and deliberately, the anger drained from him, “You’re going to have to let me do this.” She shook her head in denial. “Yes.” He stated firmly. Slowly the pressure on his arms lessened and she dropped her hands to her side and he began edging the material up her shaking body, passing her stomach he paused and rolled the hem over itself, revealing her aching ribs, a small flow of blood still weaving its way down her white skin. Pausing he glanced up at June. Her face was pinched; her cheeks tinged a bright red, highlighting the white skin, unusually pale and her face was turned away to the wall. Returning to his task he pushed the material higher, stopping as she flinched again.
“June?” He questioned, prepared to stop if she so wished. But her half-hearted protest died and she didn’t stop him as he pulled her top up, exposing her bloody chest with it’s raw cuts. Letting his eyes take in the sight for a few seconds he dropped the bunch of material and lifted his hand to her face, his thumb grazing across her skin. She still refused to look at him despite the gentle pressure he was applying.
“Why darling?” he asked, his voice heavy with distress, “Why?”
The sound of her mobile ringing from the pocket of her jacket jolted the pair of them, but she made no move to answer it, motionless on the bed, the room heavily quiet as it stopped. Seconds later his own rang and standing up and moving away from the bed he answered it.”
June slipped into the bathroom, grabbing an old dark shirt as she went and took the opportunity to clean herself up slightly, washing the blood away from her skin and changing her top. She could hear the one sided conversation from the other room but paid it little attention, instead verbally cursing the situation she now found herself in. A knock on the door from Jim ended that, and she swung it open, eyes fixed happily on anywhere else but his face.
“That was Liz,” he explained “there’s been another attack, something to do with one of their own officers.”
She nodded her understanding and collecting her bits and pieces followed him mutely to the car.
He paused for her to unlock the doors and tossed a final comment her way “We’ll talk about this later.”
***
June stepped confidently into the CID office, the cuts under her top providing her with just the right level of pain to concentrate fully on the job in front of her. She approached Liz Rawton who was stood at the door to her office leaning her thin body on the frame.
“In here.” She said, gesturing with her head and beyond her June could see a young WPC with blonde hair tied back into a neat ponytail. She was perched uncomfortably on one of the chairs in front of the heavily laden desk, a frayed tissue in one hand.
“Amy,” She said, “This is Sergeant June Ackland. June, Amy Cain.”
Nodding her thanks to Liz June approached the woman who was out of uniform, dressed in a black trousers and a fawn jumper. “We’ve met.” She said briefly. “You’re one of the new CSU officers aren’t you.” The girl smiled faintly at the recognition and nodded. “You’d best tell me what happened” June told the girl gently.
“I was on the night shift last night. I got off at seven as usual, picked up the car and drove home. When I got back to the house the front door was slightly ajar, I called out but got no answer so I pushed the door open and when there was no response I went it. I checked the house over; there was evidence of a fight in the lounge, some disturbance upstairs and blood across the hallway, consistent with a minor injury. There’s nothing missing from the house and nothing else has been disturbed.”
Recognising the professional summary as a way of coping June addressed her questions briefly. “You said there was evidence of some disturbance upstairs?”
“In the bedroom, a drawer of clothes was open and had been rummaged through and the pictures we keep on the dresser had all been turned face down. None of the other pictures in the house had been touched.”
June nodded her acknowledgement and turned back to Liz. “Does she have somewhere to stay?”
“A couple of girls in the relief have offered her spare rooms, but they’re both on duty at the minute. She could stay with me but, same problem.”
June stood up and addressed Jim in quiet tones “I want you to take her back to the hotel, she needs some rest and it’s going to be the easiest thing to do for the minute, would you mind staying with her.”
Looking less than pleased at getting babysitting duty Jim nodded his agreement however and moved into the small room.
Kneeling at the side of the chair June spoke to Amy again “Amy, PC Carver is going to take you to the hotel we’re staying at, he’ll remain there with you until we can find you somewhere a little more permanent.”
“No,” she protested, “I can’t I should be out there, looking for her.”
June placed a hand on her arm and quietened her, “I know how hard it is, we’ve all been there at some time, but you’ve been awake for nearly twenty hours now, you can’t do any good here. If you go and get some rest you can be all the more ready when we do need you.” She stood up and held her hand out to the WPC, “Come on.”
Watching Jim leave with Amy, June turned to Liz, noticing for the first time the presence of Burnside among the CID officers, she nodded her greeting at him, “So, what do we know.”
Liz turned to the large notice boards flagging one side of the wide office and indicated to a collection of papers pinned to it. “This as you well know is Robbie Kenny, small tine petty criminal on a suspended sentence for shoplifting, currently wanted on at least two charges of murder, five of kidnap and assault. Also currently under investigation by Special Branch on joint op with Drugs Squad and the CIA, oh and there’s also the matter of breaking the conditions of his suspended sentence.”
Frank grunted appreciatively at the sardonic humour.
“This however is Katy Black, twenty one year old partner of our very own Amy Cain, she works in the Halifax Building Society, Morley, address 27 Armely Road, Headingly disappeared sometime last night. A neighbour says he heard a commotion at about four thirty but it was cold out so he decided against doing anything.”
Liz raised her eyebrows in apparent disbelief and picked up several colour photos from a file in front of her and pinned each up in turn. “These are his other victims, it seems to be the same MO each time. This is Jennifer Hampton from Birmingham found dead three weeks ago, her hands were tied behind her back, bound at the wrists, there was bruising to the legs and feet suggesting beatings, and also punches to her stomach, liver and kidneys, although her torso between her clavicle and waist hadn’t been touched. Sexual assault likely although post mortem and as you can see her face has been repeatedly lashed with a sharp instrument, probably a small knife, death by asphyxiation. The same MO crops up on the second victim Mary Vellows from Sheffield. However the next five girls he doesn’t kill, same beatings, all report some form of sexual assault but their faces are left alone.”
“Why?” Burnside asked.
“We don’t know, police on his trail, too much heat, needs to be in and out quickly? But the MO’s are still too similar for it to be an attempt to distract the investigation.”
June nodded her assent, “But why leave their faces alone? From the photos those cuts look like they were done before death, and in the first two it was the assault he always left until afterwards, not the faces. That doesn’t make sense.”
Liz frowned and picked up the PM reports for both girls, “Yes the cuts were done before death.”
The three paused in their musings as a short bespectacled man entered the room. Liz greeted him with a smile, “Frank, June this is David Miller, the division’s criminal psychologist. He’s here to help us build up a fuller picture of what we’re dealing with.” She gestured him into the room and he tapped his way smartly to join June leaning against the nearest desk.
“However that matter aside the really odd thing is the rise in similar incidents were hearing each time he attacks. Milton Keynes another lesbian was attacked whilst walking home from a gay pub in the area, she was molested briefly. In Oxford there were three reports on the same night of attacks on lone gay individuals, two women, one man. The first victim was knocked to the ground and kicked, all below the waist, as was the second and Thames Valley believe it to be the same perpetrator, the young man however received three knife wounds to the face. In each case some part of the attack on the main victims is being copied, we’ve so far to come up with an incident where the nature of the assault differs from that of Robby’s victim.”
“Cultic practice.” June suggested.
The small man to her left nodded his assent.
“I agree. There are clear indications of group psychology at work here, I would hesitate to use the word ‘cultic’ as such, but that there is a ritualistic element to these killings cannot be denied.” He stood up and walked to the boards. “May I?”
Liz nodded her assent and moved to the left. “IC1 Male, thirty four years old. No evidence previous violent behaviour although he was prescribed Zoloft Six months ago whilst undergoing a brief spell in Shadwell Prison. There is no reason to think he is continuing to take this medication one leaving the Sun Hill area. Whilst it is not really necessary to speculate on the causes of his behavioural change there are many possibilities, recent trauma, a psychotic episode, the list could go on, but it would be more useful to examine his motives for the time being. As Sergeant Ackland has already noted there are ritualistic elements to each case, the evidence we have from the girls suggests that this is ordered and methodical; there was no report of agitated behaviour except in the case of Janet Dobson when the suspect became agitated when he cut his finger on a knife. He later threatened her with it, but never assaulted her with it. We have reason to believe it is the same knife used in the first two attacks. This ritualistic behaviour points to some kind of crusade, a belief that he is doing the world a favour.”
“But why is he only attacking gay women?” Burnside asked.
“He’s gay himself.” June said.
“Bollocks.” Came the succinct reply, “that makes no sense, if he were gay he’d be attacking straight wo..men…” He paused as he suddenly realised what she was suggesting.
“Quite.” David interjected, “I agree with June, he is gay, although he’s refusing to acknowledge this openly, instead he’s turning his sense of alienation and rejection outward and targeting the gay community in some kind of purging crusade, although he himself only attacks women…”
“…because he’s been in relationships with women which have obviously failed, and that resentment and anger are being shown now.” Liz finished for him.
“He’s also a very charismatic figure, various police departments have pulled people in for questioning about the related attacks, but there seems to be no clear link between any of them, most are working class, a few have links to the BNP but that’s likely coincidental due more to the mindset of those he appeals to than intention on his part.”
June suddenly stood up, and flicked hurriedly through the files that Liz had thrown on the desk, removing a number of sheets and cross referencing then intently. Glancing up at the room’s other occupants she focused her attention on David “he self harms.”
“Go on.” Came the measured response.
“We know this man is gay, I think that is furthered by the fact that the women’s bodies remain untouched around the breasts and by the fact that all the sexual attacks reported in later victims are from behind, so he isn’t looking at the women’s faces and there’s another obvious link there which I’ll let you make for yourselves. That should also explain why he slashed the faces of the first two.”
“As a denial of what he was doing.”
“Exactly.” June’s eyes flashed as she continued, “The reports make no mention of any attempt to move the bodies or to dispose of them, there’s no record of violent behaviour and I would suspect he is unused to handling dead bodies which also explains why he didn’t simply turn the first two girls over.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you think he self harms” Burnside cut it, that’s a rather off the wall theory, and not exactly relevant, I mean why didn’t he just cover their faces up.”
“Exactly, why didn’t he cover their faces up, why resort to disfiguring their skin unless he’s used to it, that would also explain why he was upset about catching himself on the knife and why he didn’t use it on the other girls.”
“Ritual again.” David cut in. “I agree. We don’t know much more at this stage but I’d recommend caution when dealing with him, whatever has prompted this he’s clearly an unstable man and for places to start looking I’d try the local gay bars, if there are any areas predominantly, although not exclusively lesbian, I’d try those first. Also he seems to be appealing for help in local pub, in poorer areas, like I said the BNP link is likely coincidental but it should also give you a place to start.”
Liz nodded her thanks to him and resumed centre stage, “Frank you’re with me we’re off to check out the gay bars, June I’d actually like you to stay here and try and get hold of some relatives of his, you’ve probably got more chance than either of us, use Sun Hill if you have to. I’m particularly interested in old girlfriends and family history.” She turned to the gaggle of her own officers at one side of the room, “Susie, Linda leave that mugging you were working on and start questioning the pubs, go further afield if necessary.” And with that the meeting disintegrated.
David grinned at June as he left “You’re good, ever thought of a career in psychology. We could go for a drink sometime I could tell you the options.”
Taken aback by the blatant proposal by such a diminutive man June declined politely, secretly pleased by both compliments.
***
June was startled to alertness as a heavy hand dropped onto her shoulder, “You’re going to have to come home sometime you know.” A voice rumbled from behind her.
“Jim!” She exclaimed as the memories of earlier that day crashed back down on her, “No…I…I was trying to get this work finished…I wasn’t avoiding you.” She protested.
He leant back against the desk, “So what are you doing?”
“At the minute I’m trying to track down a couple of his past girlfriends, I’ve got one but she’s in Holland at the minute so Frank can sort that one out for me later, the other two I can’t find addresses for...AH HA!” She shouted as the reached for the pad of paper he was sat on and noted down the details with a triumphant flourish. “Two down, one to go.”
“June…” We said warningly
She glanced up at him, illuminated by the desk light she was working from and on a sudden impulse planted a brief kiss on the skin of his arm closest to her. “What?”
“It’s two o’clock in the morning, come on you can finish this tomorrow, it’s not even as though you can use the information tonight.”
Acknowledging the truth of his words she stood up awkwardly and eased out the cricks in her body as she shut the computer down and made a feeble attempt at tidying the desk. “Come on, you can fill me in on the way home.”
***
Jim wandered idly around the CID office, he and June were the only occupants, everyone else it seemed had something to do, everyone that was except him. June was having an animated conversation with Brandon down the phone line continuing her research project and even though she’d given him the odd flag to trace he felt somewhat like a spare part. He was bored he realised. Bored and slightly agitated with the whole June situation.
“Jim,” June started her voice weary, “not wishing to be blunt but could you sit down or sod off, you’re pacing is distracting me.”
Scowling at her he picked up a pen and twirled it idly on the desk.
“Jim, I’m serious.”
Slamming it down he meandered out of the corridor, wondering if he could get away with sulking in the canteen all afternoon. He had just reached the double doors at the end of the corridor when Burnside and Liz entered it with an air of purpose.
“Doing anything important Jim?” Liz asked.
“No Gov, I was…”
“Good, you’re with Frank, we’ve got a visual on Kenny. You’re on the first obbo shift.”
Jim paused as Frank joined him and they picked up one of the unmarked cards from the yard and he gazed blankly at the flying colours outside the window. He felt as though he should say something, the mood in the car seemed oppressive, but somehow he didn’t think he was up for explaining about June just yet. In fact it was into the second hour of staring at a small house in Chapeltown yet to see any sign of life at all, never mind any sign of Robby Kenny’s life that either of then broke the more or less continuous silence.
“I know a lot more than you think James.”
“Guv?”
“About June.” Jim didn’t respond, not at first, then he drew in a deep breath.
“Go on.”
“She’s an incredible woman Jim, it’s not easy for her to love people, you’re lucky.”
“How d’you figure that one?” he asked derisively.
“Because if you’ve got the love of a woman like that Jim she’ll never let you down.”
“I highly doubt she loves me. Somehow if she did I don’t think she’d have left it twenty years with no sign.”
“Sometimes kid you can be the most dense person on the planet.” Jim huffed a breath through his nose and sank into his seat, it seemed nobody was going to be nice to him today. “Think about” Frank suggested, “Who would you say are your good friends?”
“June, Tony, you if you stick around. Those are the two I’ve know the longest anyway, Reg I suppose.”
“Who picks you up when you’re down, who always seems to make time for you regardless of herself, who’s never turned you away.”
“You’re missing bits of information frank.” He told him resignedly. “Six months ago I could have given you the answer you wanted, but these last few months, weeks particularly she’s been distancing herself from me.”
“From you, or from everybody?” he asked pointedly and then more “Pointedly when did her father die?”
“Oh.”
“I know she’s been backing off from you recently but to be fair you have been pushing her hard as well. She doesn’t love easily Jim, with her own good reasons, she needs time to adjust.”
Jim reached for the sandwich half open on the dashboard and took a bite, munching it deliberately. “How do you know I’ve been pushing June recently. Has she said something?”
“No.” Burnside smiled and wetted his lips. “Gina told me.”
“Gina, Gina Gold?”
“Mmm Hmm, we worked together up in Salford, I asked her to keep an on you two for me. But I want to hear it from the horses mouth, as it were.”
Jim sighed as he finished the sandwich and rolled the paper up into a tight ball, dropping it into the side pocket. “Well things came to a head about six weeks ago now, the night of the fire actually. We’d been put back on the beat together and things had been a little strained between us, but it was okay. In fact there’s a good story involving Conway’s wife’s dog! Anyway one day we were called out to investigate some disused warehouse, there was a gang of masked youths they were firing what I think were ball bearings at us. I got winded, they got June, tied her up and we eventually managed to get out of there. But it was later, as we were in the sergeant’s office going over the day that things well changed for want of a better word. I’d hated seeing her tied up like that, as soon as I saw her every part of me wanted to get her out of there and make sure she was okay, it wasn’t until later that I also realised I wanted to make sure she never had to deal with something like that again. Upshot of it all, well, I kissed her.”
“And?” Burnside prompted.
“And nothing,” Jim said dejectedly, “the station blew up, people died, I asked her out a couple of times but circumstance and then promotion got in the way, and she just pulled back from me.”
“And recently?”
“You mean since we’ve been up here? We kissed once, towards the beginning, but she pulled back from that sharpish after a while…God, He paused as a sudden thought hit him and he muttered to himself, “makes sense.” Ignoring Burnside’s curious look he continued on, ”and then last night we were up in the office she kissed me on my arm.”
Frank merely raised his eyebrows at the last statement but made no comment. “Is there any reason you can think of to suggest she would have been feeling particularly vulnerable that second time?”
Jim nodded. “Let’s just say I think her ribs might have been a little tender.” Again Burnside made no comment instead he turned to Jim.
“So think about it, the only times she’s come to you is when she’s feeling upset and exposed, which says a lot in itself about how she does feel about you, but it also means that you’re associated with her being vulnerable, and we both know how much she fights against the idea that she needs anything from anybody. It makes sense that when she’s feeling stronger she’ll push you away, because you’re associated with a part of her she doesn’t want to admit. She will admit it eventually though.
“Why guv? I mean none of us like to be reminded that were only human, we cock up but we spring back, just look at me, once I’d faced the problem it made me stronger.”
“You and I know that, and June realises that’s a truth too but she wont accept it applies to her, she’s spent years lying to people about her emotions Jim, you can’t just turn that off like a tap. She’s got her own way’s of coping with things, god knows what they are, but they seem to work well enough.”
Jim realised the truth of his words and marvelled at the man beside him, “When did you get to become so wise guv?” He asked, his tone half wistful, half serious. But Frank didn’t answer, instead he started the engine up and Jim tuned to see Robby Kenny leaving the house.”
As he glanced around and opened the door of an old blue van Jim picked up his handset and radioed the index into CAD before relaying the necessary information to Liz and her team via his mobile and sat back for some good old fashioned police work. As they exited the estate and Frank shifted the car into third he muttered, “Some of us, James lad, are born with it.”
***
By 9pm June and Jim were sat back in the CID office with a handful of other officers around them, all digesting their poison of choice. June eyed Jim, sat comfortably with his mug of tea in a high backed chair.
“Seems almost anti-climatic really doesn’t it?” She offered by way of a conversation starter.
Jim nodded, “It was almost too easy, I’m half expecting some large, unexpected twist to the story none of us foresaw.”
“You’ve been reading too many crime thrillers again,” she observed dryly, “We’ll have to ration you to one a week and no reading before bedtime, it’ll give you nightmares.”
He joined in her laughter, and then ignoring Frank’s advice asked, his tone mildly suggestive, “Does that mean you’ll be there you keep me to my restriction?”
“Jim, I…” She began, her eyes suddenly remorseful but he cut her off, placing a finger across her lips and she smiled briefly at him, kissing the finger lightly.
They were interrupted by the arrival of Liz and Frank, fresh from the interview room.
“Well?” Jim asked, seemingly the only one sober enough to formulate the question quickly.
Burnside sank into a chair and reached for the nearest bottle of scotch pouring himself a generous measure. “The man’s a bloody lunatic.”
Liz, glass in hand herself, expounded briefly. “Oh we’ve got enough to charge him alright, we’re going to try and make a case for all eight attacks but we’ll see what the CPS has to say about that later on.
“Did he give a motive?” June asked.
“Oh I don’t know,” Rawton replied,” He sprouted some of the bible at us, but I don’t think he believes it really. Just a very disturbed man with a twisted mind I suppose.”
“No that’s Inspector Nichols!” A voice from the back called out and the team laughed appreciatively, turning back to their small celebration leaving the three outsiders to their own devises.
Burnside turned to Jim as he asked him guardedly “So what happens now guv?”
Rising from her seat June excused herself and headed over to the periphery of the group, pouring herself another drink and joining DCI Rawton for a few moments.
“You go back to London, I head off into the Never Never land of retirement, Kenny goes down for murder, with a few years shaved off for helping CIB finger a few people in the force and the world keeps turning round.”
“There’s a lot more going on than we know isn’t there?” Jim posited.
Glancing across in the direction of June Burnside replied, “That there is Kid, that there is.”
Nodding, the meaning not lost on him Jim raised his mug. “Here’s to old friends.”
“And new loves.” Knocking back the remains of his glass Frank stood up and clasped Jim on the shoulder, his hand resting briefly in a gesture of emotion. “Take care of yourself Kid, and of June.”
“You’re not staying for the drinks?” Jim asked, clearly surprised at the sudden departure of his old guv.
“No, things to do, people to see.” He muttered darkly as he wandered over to June, drawing her away from the conversation she was in.
She held up her hands in mock surrender, the glass of vodka swaying precariously in her hand, “Go on…”
“Take care of him for me June. And if you so much as hurt him…”
“I know, you’ll come and kneecap me. Godfather through and through Frank Burnside.” Then she surprised him by reaching her face to his, giving him a light peck on the cheek. “Thank you.” She whispered.
“What was all that about?” Jim queried as he sidled over.
“Frank’s alternative career in the Italian mafia.” Was the only response he got, and Jim began to realise there was plenty going on that he had no idea about, but as June took him by the hand and led him back to the other officers he decided he really didn’t care.
Watching from the doorway Frank Burnside ambled down to the cells to retrieve his prisoner, a warm feeling settling over him that he chose to studiously ignore.
On To Part II --->
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