Кара Хантер - In the Dark

‘Why on earth do you need me to do that? I have commitments – classes, marking, extracurricular activities to supervise – it’s incredibly inconvenient.’

‘I appreciate that, sir, but we need to take samples. DNA, fingerprints –’

He stares at them. ‘What the hell for? I haven’t been to that house in years.’

‘Really?’ says Somer. ‘You weren’t on good terms with your uncle?’

‘My good woman, as your colleague quite rightly observed only a few minutes ago, we weren’t actually related .’

Gislingham’s eyes widen; if that was an attempt to get in Somer’s good books it’s a miscalculation of spectacular proportions.

‘Mr Walsh,’ she says coolly, ‘we have already established that very few people have visited that house in recent years and you are clearly one of them. We need to eliminate you from our enquiries –’

His eyes narrow. ‘Enquiries? You don’t seriously think I could be involved in what he was doing? I can assure you that I had no idea what he was up to – I was as shocked as anyone else.’

Somer eyes him for a moment. ‘ Was? ’

He looks irritated. ‘What?’

‘You just said, “I was as shocked”. That means you knew – you knew before we got here. You saw the news just like everyone else.’

‘Look,’ he says, taking a deep breath, ‘I work in a school. A very expensive school. Do you know how much people pay every year to send their children to a place like this?’

She can guess. And it’s probably more than she gets paid.

‘The last thing I need in my position is to be associated with something like – like that .’

I bet you don’t, thinks Somer, and all the more since you’re clearly so far down the pecking order that you’re stuck in a room in the overflow block with a grandstand view of the bins.

‘We’ll do our best to be discreet,’ she says, ‘but the fact remains that we need you to accompany us back to Oxford. Even if you haven’t been to Frampton Road for a while we have fingerprints that are so far unidentified, and could have been there quite some time. And in any case, I’m sure a “school like this” would expect you to do everything in your power to assist the police.’ She has him there, and he knows it.

‘Very well,’ he says heavily. ‘I trust I can drive myself?’

*

Out in the car Gislingham turns to her. ‘Blimey, you got him by the short and curlies and no mistake.’

‘You know,’ she says thoughtfully, ‘I’m sure there are guidelines in the state sector these days about teachers being alone with pupils. I think you’re advised to leave the door open.’

‘What, are you suggesting something was going on with him and that kid?’

‘No, not necessarily. But I think we should make a few enquiries. From what I remember this is the third school he’s taught at in the last ten years. Might suggest something. Or nothing.’

‘Worth checking though.’

She nods. ‘Though we really do need to be careful how we go about it. If you’re a teacher, a rumour like that can wreck your career. Even if it proves to be completely untrue.’

It happened to someone she knew. A quiet, inoffensive and – as it turned out – hopelessly naive man who got hounded out of his job after one of his Year 10s claimed he’d hit him. The last she heard, he was behind the till in Lidl.

Gislingham starts the engine and a few moments later they see Walsh’s silver Mondeo emerging from the staff car park.

‘By the way,’ says Gislingham as Walsh comes towards them, ‘what was that he was talking about – the sex mashing thing?’

For a moment she’s completely nonplussed. ‘Oh, you mean the deus ex machina? It’s from Greek tragedy – it’s when a writer gets his plot into such a complete horlicks the only way to fix it is to send in a god.’

Gislingham grins. ‘Sounds like a great idea. We could do with one of those ourselves.’

‘I thought we already had one,’ she says drily. ‘Under deep cover as Detective Inspector Adam Fawley.’

Gislingham laughs out loud this time, then puts the car in gear. The back of his hand brushes hers.

Just for a moment.

***

I’m writing this because I want everyone to know. If I die down here – if I never get out – I want people to know what he did to me.

I was on my way to look at a bedsit. One of the students had dropped out so they had a room free for a few months and it had to be better than where I was before. Only I’d managed to break my heel crossing the road so I was sitting there, on the wall, trying to fix it, when he came out. I thought he was going to ask me to get off his wall but he just looked at my shoe and said he had some glue that could fix it. It would only take a minute, he said. And I looked at him and he smiled. He had a tie on, I remember that. He didn’t look like a psycho. He looked nice. Kind. Like someone’s uncle. So I said OK and I followed him into the house.

He said he had to fetch the glue from the shed, and he’d just made some tea and would I like some. That’s how he must have done it. The tea.

I thought it tasted a bit weird [ material illegible ]

. . . lying face down on the floor. I started yelling but no one came. He never came. And eventually I needed to pee and I started crying because I could feel my jeans getting soaked and it was so horrible. I don’t know how long it was before I worked out I could crawl on my knees. I kept banging into things in the dark but I found the bed and the toilet and the boxes of junk. It all smells of old people. I think this room must be underground because it’s so cold all . . .

[ one sheet illegible ]

. . . heard him outside. There was the sound of a key and then footsteps on the stairs and then a light went on. I could see it under the door. And then I heard him out there, breathing. Breathing and listening. I stayed really still and in the end he went away. But the light under the door is still there.

He’s going to come down again, isn’t he.

I don’t want him to rape me. I’ve never done it before and I don’t want it to be him that’s the first.

Why doesn’t anyone come?

[ two sheets illegible ]

. . . here again. He had water and he let me drink some, but most of it went down my top. I said I was hungry too but he said I have to be nice to him first. I tried to hit him and he slapped me. He said I would play nice in the end because I wouldn’t eat until I did. I spat out the water at him and he said suit yourself. You can drink out of the toilet for all I care. You’ll come round, you vicious little bitch. You all do.

I keep wondering if anyone is looking for me. Those people at the bedsit won’t be bothered. Mum doesn’t know where I am and probably wouldn’t care if she did. She’d probably say it served me right for being so stupid. That’s what she always says.

I could die in here and no one would know

I don’t want to die

Please don’t let . . .

[ three sheets damaged ]

He raped me

He RAPED me

I don’t know how long ago because I’ve been lying here just crying and crying. Please, if you read this, don’t let him get away with it. Make him pay for what he did.

He brought down more water but I think there was something in it again because I started to feel strange. As if I knew what was going on but I couldn’t do anything about it. One minute he was sitting there smiling at me and the next he was taking my knickers off and then he was touching me with his horrible wrinkly hands and putting his fingers in me and asking if I liked it. He didn’t untie me – I think he likes it that I’m tied up. He did it to me on my back then turned me over and did it to me again. And all the time I had my face in the dirt and it was hurting like he was ripping me inside.