She stared hard, noting the flaccid, excess skin that hung from his jaws like melting wax. His breathing was fast and laboured, his forty-stone body exhausted by any type of movement.
‘You can’t … fucking … come in here … and just do what … the hell you want.’
She walked towards him. Her entire being recoiled at closing the space between them. ‘I’ve got a warrant that says I can.’
He shook his head. ‘Get out of … my house … before I call my … solicitor.’
She removed the handcuffs from her back pocket. ‘Leonard Dunn, I am arresting you on suspicion of assault of a child under thirteen by penetration, sexual assault of a child under thirteen and causing a child under thirteen to engage in sexual activity.’
Her eyes bored into his. She saw only panic.
She opened the handcuffs as Bryant grabbed Dunn’s forearms in preparation.
‘You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
She closed the handcuffs, taking care not to touch the hairy, white flesh. She threw his arms away from her and looked at her partner.
‘Bryant, get this foul, sick bastard out of my sight before I do something that we’ll both regret.’
TWO
Kim smelled the aftershave before the wearer came into view.
‘Piss off, Bryant, I’m not home.’
His six-foot frame bent under the half-raised garage shutter door.
She muted her iPod, silencing the silvery notes of Vivaldi’s Winter Concerto.
Snatching up a stray rag, she wiped her hands, and using every inch of her five-foot-nine height, she faced him squarely. Her right hand instinctively ran through her short shock of black hair. Bryant knew that was her pre-battle habit. She placed the errant hand on her hip.
‘What do you want?’
He carefully stepped around the explosion of motorcycle parts that littered the garage floor.
‘Jesus, what does this want to be when it grows up?’
Kim followed his gaze around the space. To him it looked like a small corner of a scrapyard. To her it was forgotten treasure. It had taken almost a year to track down every part to build this motorbike and she couldn’t wait.
‘It’s a 1954 BSA Goldstar.’
His right eyebrow lifted. ‘I’m gonna take your word on that one.’
She met his gaze and waited. This wasn’t the reason for his visit and they both knew it.
‘You weren’t there last night,’ he said, retrieving the exhaust manifold from the floor.
‘Well deduced, Sherlock. You should consider becoming a detective.’
He smiled and then sobered. ‘It was a celebration, Guv.’
She narrowed her gaze. Here, in her home, she was not Detective Inspector and he was not Detective Sergeant. She was Kim and he was Bryant; her work partner and the closest thing to a friend she had.
‘Yeah, whatever. Where were you?’ His voice softened. It wasn’t the accusation she’d been expecting.
She took the exhaust from him and placed it onto the workbench. ‘It wasn’t a celebration for me.’
‘But we got him, Kim.’
And now he was talking to her as a friend.
‘Yes, but we didn’t get her.’
She reached for the pliers. Some idiot had secured the manifold to the housing with a screw a quarter-inch too big.
‘Not enough evidence to charge her. She claims she knew nothing about it and CPS can’t find otherwise.’
‘Then they should get their heads out from their arses and look harder.’
She clipped the pliers around the end of the bolt and began to turn gently.
‘We did our best, Kim.’
‘It’s not enough, Bryant. That woman is their mother. She gave birth to those two little girls and then allowed them to be used in the worst possible way by their own father. Those kids will never lead a normal life.’
‘Because of him, Kim.’
Her eyes bored into his. ‘He’s a sick bastard. What’s her excuse?’
He shrugged. ‘She insists she didn’t know, that there were no signs.’
Kim looked away. ‘There are always signs.’
She turned the pliers gently, trying to tease the bolt free without causing any damage to the manifold.
‘We can’t shake her. She’s sticking to it.’
‘You’re telling me she never wondered why the door to the cellar was locked, or that there wasn’t one time, just one, that she came home early and felt something wasn’t quite right?’
‘We can’t prove it, though. We all did our best.’
‘Well it wasn’t good enough, Bryant. Not even close. She was their mother. She should have protected them.’
She applied extra force and turned the pliers anti-clockwise.
The fixing collapsed into the manifold.
She threw the pliers against the wall. ‘Damn, it took almost four months to track down that bloody exhaust.’
Bryant shook his head. ‘Not the first set of nuts you’ve broken is it, Kim?’
Despite her anger, a smile tugged at her lips.
‘And I’m sure it won’t be the last.’ She shook her head. ‘Pass me those pliers back, will you?’
‘A please would be nice. Didn’t your parents teach you any manners, young lady?’
Kim said nothing. She’d learned plenty from all seven sets of foster parents and not much of it had been good.
‘The team appreciated the tab you left behind the bar, though.’
She nodded and sighed. Her team deserved the celebration. They had worked hard to build the case. Leonard Dunn would not see the outside world for a very long time.
‘If you’re staying, make yourself useful and pour the coffee … please.’
He shook his head, walking through the door that led into the kitchen. ‘Is there a pot on?’
Kim didn’t bother answering. If she was home there was a pot on.
As he fussed around the kitchen, Kim was again struck by the fact that there was no animosity from him that she had risen through the ranks at a much faster pace than he had. At forty-six, Bryant had no problem with taking instruction from a woman who was twelve years his junior.
Bryant handed her a mug and leaned back against the bench. ‘I see you’ve been cooking again.’
‘Did you try one?’
He guffawed. ‘Nah, it’s okay. I wanna live, and I don’t eat anything I can’t put a name to. They look like Afghan landmines.’
‘They’re biscuits.’
He shook his head. ‘Why do you put yourself through it?’
‘Because I’m crap at it.’
‘Oh yeah, of course. Got distracted again, did you? Saw a bit of chrome that needed polishing or a screw that needed …’
‘Have you really got nothing better to do on a Saturday morning than this?’
He shook his head. ‘Nope, the ladies in my life are having their nails done. So, no, I really don’t have anything better to do than bug the hell out of you.’
‘Okay then, but can I ask you a personal question?’
‘Look, I’m happily married and you’re my boss, so the answer is no.’
Kim groaned. ‘Good to know. But more importantly, why can’t you find the backbone to tell your missus you don’t want to smell like the dressing room of a boy band?’
He shook his head and looked to the ground. ‘I can’t. I haven’t spoken to her for three weeks.’
Kim turned, alarmed. ‘Why not?’
He lifted his head and grinned. ‘’Cos I don’t like to interrupt.’
Kim shook her head and checked her watch. ‘Okay, finish your coffee and naff off.’
He drained his mug. ‘Loving your subtlety, Kim,’ he said, heading towards the garage door. He turned. His expression asked her if she was okay.
She grunted in response.
As his car pulled away, Kim sighed deeply. She had to let the case go. The fact that Wendy Dunn had allowed her children to be sexually abused made her jaws ache. The knowledge that those two little girls would be returned to their mother sickened her. That they would again be in the care of the one person who was supposed to protect them would haunt her.
Kim threw the used rag onto the bench and lowered the roller shutter door. She had family to visit.