1
Detective Inspector Laura Kesey spotted the victim almost as soon as she entered West Wales Hospital’s acute admissions ward. The skinny, nineteen-year-old girl was lying propped up on three plump pillows, her short, bright red hair and multiple blue tattoos contrasting dramatically against the starched white cotton covers. Kesey made a slight involuntary grimace on witnessing the young woman’s battered appearance. Her two black eyes, a torn lip, the misaligned nose, and a missing front tooth transformed her otherwise pretty face into something akin to a Halloween mask. Physical injuries that were testament to the severe beating she’d received only hours before.
The detective struggled to suppress her anger as she approached the bed, her sense of injustice burning bright as she met the girl’s haunted gaze. Kesey settled herself, swallowing hard, adopting a professional persona, keen to convey both approachability and calm efficiency, a combination of which she hoped would help put the young woman at her ease. Or, at least, as far as was possible in the circumstances.
Kesey had met victims like this before. Unfortunate females dominated and abused by violent, manipulative males. She’d met more than she cared to recall. And the last thing Kesey wanted was to let the young woman down. Every case mattered to the detective, and incidents such as this more than most.
The young victim removed her in-ear headphones, grimacing with each movement of her battered body, as the detective stood at the end of her hospital bed, focused on her and only her, resisting the almost overwhelming impulse to look away. Kesey shifted her weight from one foot to the other, forcing a thin smile before opening her mouth. When she spoke, it was in nasal Brummie tones that some Welsh locals found challenging to decipher.
‘Hello, Sally, my name’s DI Kesey, Laura Kesey. Please call me Laura. I’m here to help you.’
The young woman averted her eyes to the wall, spitting her words, spewing them from her mouth. ‘Yeah, like that’s going to make all the fucking difference. Why don’t you piss off and leave me alone? You can’t help me. Nobody can.’
Kesey held her ground. It wasn’t exactly the welcome she’d hoped for. But it wasn’t entirely unexpected. And she’d heard a lot worse. ‘I wouldn’t be here if that were true.’
Sally was visibly sweating now, tiny beads of moisture exuding through the pores of her discoloured skin as she tugged on her ginger hair. ‘Oh, give me a break. Have I got stupid stamped on my forehead or something? Who the fuck do you think you are, Superwoman? I know your limitations. I’ve been down this road before.’
Kesey pulled up a chair, sitting to the left side of the bed, next to a large picture window with a view of the busy car park below. The detective maintained as calm a tone as possible, speaking slowly, clearly enunciating each word, monotone, bordering on the melancholy. ‘How are you feeling? It looks like he really did a job on you this time.’
The young woman emitted a long, deep audible breath, more a groan than a murmur. ‘Yeah, and he’ll do it again if he finds out I’ve been talking to the likes of you. Why don’t you fuck off and ruin someone else’s day? If you think you’re helping, you’re kidding yourself. You’re just making things worse. Your sort always do.’
Kesey paused before replying, taking her time, choosing her words with care. ‘Pearson’s in custody, Sally. He’s locked up in a cell. And with your help, we can get him convicted and imprisoned. Don’t you think he deserves that after all he did to you? I know it isn’t going to be easy, but it matters. We can’t let him get away with it. You can be free of him. I’ll be with you every step of the way.’
Sally closed her eyes tight, screwing up her face, shutting out the world. When they flickered open moments later, Kesey thought the girl may start weeping. There was an unmistakable sadness about her. An absence of hope she couldn’t hide.
She looked past Kesey as she spoke. ‘I’ve been here before, on the exact same ward, just over a year ago, at Christmas.’ Sally pointed a trembling finger decorated with peeling black nail polish. ‘I was stuck in that bed over there, the one nearest the door. It depressed the hell out of me. People trying to be cheery, decorations, cards, carols, all that bollocks. That’s not something you forget in a hurry. I can’t believe I’m back here. I was hoping never to see the place again.’
Kesey shook her head slowly from right to left, first one way and then the other. She’d enjoyed a comparatively happy life, so unlike this girl, this victim of random circumstance, who’d drawn the short straw time and again. The detective clenched her hands into tight fists as she pictured Pearson in her mind’s eye, recalling his denial, his dismissive lack of remorse. Kesey had never wanted to convict a man more. It felt strangely personal. As if the girl’s future was her responsibility, and hers alone. Any form of words seemed wholly inadequate. But she knew she had to say something. Just sitting there in pensive silence achieved nothing at all. ‘That must have been truly awful for you. Not the best way to spend the holiday season.’
Sally turned away, gritting her teeth, her jaw clenched, changing the contours of her face. ‘A DC David Harris made all sorts of empty promises. It was grievous bodily harm with intent. The worst kind of assault. That’s what the prat said. And he was going to keep me safe. Mike would be locked up for a very long time. It was going to be years, life even, if things went well in court. That’s what your pig friend told me in that oh-so insistent way of his. And I believed him too. I made a written statement. I said I’d give evidence however frightened I felt inside. And then the court gave Mike bail. They released the bastard as if he hadn’t done anything at all. What the fuck was that about? Safe? Safe! I was shitting myself. The system let me down. Your lot let me down. I was in more danger than ever before.’
Kesey dropped her chin to her chest, suddenly lost for words, as the young woman continued her story, her voice repeatedly breaking with raw emotion as she relived events as if in real-time.
‘I was staying at my sister’s place in Glyndwr Street at the top of town. A one bedroom flat on the first floor above the off-licence. Mike came after me. He kicked the door in. And then he gave me the worst beating of my life. And he smashed the place up too. Punishment, he called it. I deserved it, apparently. My sister somehow managed to lock herself in the bathroom to dial 999 before he got in there and got hold of her too. But the bastard was long gone before you lot finally turned up. I was pissing blood for a week.’
Kesey nodded, feeling a heady mix of sympathy, anger and frustration. ‘I’ve read the paperwork. Pearson was re-arrested, remanded, and given six months. It should have been a lot longer. I totally accept that.’
For the first time, Sally met Kesey’s tired eyes and held her gaze, looking back at her with an intense fevered stare. The young woman rushed her words, her voice rising in tone and pitch, her reddened eyes flickering like a faulty bulb. ‘Oh, yeah, he was given six months all right. But he was released after three. Twelve fucking weeks for kicking the crap out of me. And he’d assaulted my sister too. He smashed her right in the face, hard. He broke her nose. Twelve fucking weeks for all that and then they released the bastard for good behaviour. Good behaviour! He doesn’t know the meaning. How do you think that went for me? It wasn’t great. I’ll tell you that much. It would have been better if my sister had never rung you lot at all.’