Tania Carver: The Creeper

The tears came, as they always did at this time. She bent her head forward, reached out. Took his hand. He let her. She sat like that until it was time for her to leave.

She wiped her cheeks, took a tissue from her bag, dabbed her eyes, blew her nose. ‘I’ll be… I’ll be back soon. Thanks. For listening.’

She opened her mouth as if to speak once more, closed it again, her thoughts unvoiced, her words unspoken. She shook her head, placed the sunglasses over her eyes, turned, left the room.

‘Ms Esposito…’ A voice down the corridor. Footsteps accompanying it.

Marina stopped, turned. A nursing official was making her way towards her. She knew the woman, didn’t have anything against her, but still felt an irrational irritation bordering on anger at the sight of her. Marina waited until she was level. She looked at her. Made no attempt to remove her sunglasses.

The nursing official looked at the door Marina had just come out of. ‘How was…’

Marina took a deep breath, expelled it. Said nothing. She was glad the nurse couldn’t see her eyes.

The woman’s voice dropped. ‘I don’t mean to… you’ve been coming here for quite some time now. Longer than we would normally allow.’

‘I know.’ Marina’s voice was like old, rusted gears.

‘You have to… I’ll be blunt. This situation can’t continue. You must reach a decision. Very soon.’

Marina nodded, not trusting her voice this time.

‘If you’d like to, we can talk-’

‘No. No. I’ll… I’ll do it.’

The nurse looked relieved. ‘If you’re sure. But we’ll-’

Marina turned away. ‘I know. I have to go. I have to pick up my daughter.’ Her voice caught on the words.

She hurried down the corridor and out of the building. The sunlight hit her but didn’t reach her. Without looking back, she hurried away.

To pick up Josephina.

To make her decision.

To try and get on with her life.

‘So… is that it, then?’

‘Nearly.’ DC Anni Hepburn glanced down at her notes. ‘Just a couple of things. Can you just take me through it again from waking up, check there’s nothing I’ve missed…’

Suzanne Perry sat opposite her on the sofa in the living room of her apartment. She was still dressed in the T-shirt she had slept in, a dressing gown over it, pulled tight round her body. The mug of coffee she was holding was down to cold dregs. She swirled the gritty liquid around, her eyes following its progress, clamped to the mug as if scared to look anywhere else. She sighed.

‘But I’ve already…’

‘Please. Just once more.’ Anni’s voice sounded compassionate, tender yet laced with steel, showing she was used to having her requests carried out. It wasn’t something she had consciously worked on, just a skill that had naturally evolved with the job until it was an everyday part of her working identity.

Suzanne’s eyes slowly closed, her head lolling forward. Then she gave a start, her eyes wide and staring, darting round the room as if searching for anything – or anyone – hidden in the shadows. Anni caught the look, tried to reassure her.

‘It’s OK. Just me here.’

A two-person CSI team had painstakingly examined Suzanne’s bedroom, hallway and any potential entrances and exits for possible clues to the identity of her supposed intruder. From the tone of their voices and the expressions on their faces, they didn’t seem to regard those chances as high.

Anni checked her notes. Looked at the woman before her. Suzanne Perry was a speech therapist, working at the General Hospital, first job after graduating from Essex University. She was tall to medium height, with a good figure, dark hair and a slight Mediterranean cast to her skin. But it was her eyes that you noticed first, Anni thought. Beautiful, clear brown eyes. Even through all the tears and redness, the beauty of those eyes came through.

The flat was on the top floor of an old Edwardian house that had been divided up, on Maldon Road. Quite spacious with good period fittings, but with its primary coloured bookshelves, beanbags, throws and sub-Bridget Riley prints on the walls, it had been furnished predominantly in a kind of Ikea version of sixties pop art. But already there were other touches creeping in that suggested the garishness would soon go, to be replaced by a more mature style. Anni had seen this kind of thing before. The first tentative steps taken between student and wage earner. It felt like that had been her, not so long ago.

This case was a natural fit for Anni. A reactive DC working with the Major Incident Squad, she specialised in rape cases, abused children, had been trained for any situation where a male presence might be a barrier to uncovering the truth. This case was clearly one for her. Plus, it would keep her away from Phil, which, given the way things had been between them lately, wasn’t a bad thing.

‘So,’ Anni said, concentrating once more, ‘you woke up…’

‘No, before that.’ Suzanne Perry placed her coffee mug down on a nearby shelf but still kept her eyes on it as if it was a talisman giving out a protective aura. ‘While I was asleep… I thought, I felt… someone in the room with me.’

‘When you were asleep.’

‘I don’t know… I think I was asleep. But then… then… I felt it…’

‘It?’

‘Him. I felt him. His hands on me, his…’ She shuddered.

Anni waited.

‘And I couldn’t… I couldn’t move…’

Another shudder. Anni feared she might cry again. It had happened twice already. She pressed on.

‘You felt his hands on you.’

Suzanne nodded.

‘Do you remember whereabouts on your body?’

Suzanne looked to the floor, her cheeks red.

Anni had to be careful what she said. Traumatic experiences often left a victim open to suggestion. She didn’t want to say anything that could later, in court, be seen as leading Suzanne on. ‘Where did he touch you, Suzanne?’

Suzanne turned her face even further away, closed her eyes like she was anticipating a punch.

‘Suzanne.’ Steel in Anni’s voice once more. Suzanne’s head snapped back round. Now she had her attention again she allowed her voice to drop once more. ‘Suzanne… where did he touch you?’

Suzanne’s eyes closed once more, her lower lip began to tremble. ‘He… he moved my T-shirt up… I couldn’t stop him, I…’ The tears started again. ‘And… and he…’

Anni sat back. ‘OK. OK…’ Her voice was soothing once more. ‘Take a moment.’ Anni waited until Suzanne had composed herself. ‘You said he spoke to you. Can you remember any of the words he said?’

Suzanne shook her head.

‘What did he look like? Can you describe him?’

Another shake of her head. ‘Just… a shape. And those eyes, shining, staring… like, like devils’ eyes… And his hands, touching me. And I, I couldn’t move…’

Anni didn’t press her any more. She decided to move on. ‘And then you, what? Slept?’

Suzanne shrugged. ‘Must have done.’

‘Then got up, opened the curtains…’

Suzanne nodded. ‘Yes. And then…’ Her head dropped once more.

Anni kept looking at her. Scrutinising her. Something was gnawing at her. ‘Were the blinds closed or open?’

‘Open. That’s how I saw the photo.’

‘You said earlier you like your bedroom dark. Is it possible you could have left them open?’

Suzanne shook her head. ‘I’m a light sleeper. I need the room dark as possible. Specially in the summer…’ Her voice trailed off.

‘So you couldn’t have opened the blinds yourself?’

‘No. I never open them.’ Her voice emphatic.

‘Do you open the window to sleep? When it’s warm?’