Michael Robotham - Say You're sorry

“What are you waiting for?” he asks.

“I’m giving you time to compose yourself,” says Drury.

“Huh?”

“I’m giving you time to come up with a story. It helps to have a good story when you’re going to be charged with sexual assault.”

“I didn’t touch anyone. If she said I did, she’s lying.”

Drury pauses. “Who do you think we’re talking about, Toby?”

Kroger hesitates. “I don’t know. Some bitch.”

“Natasha McBain. We found footage of her on your computer.”

Kroger falters and takes a moment to recover. “That’s not my laptop.”

“We found it in your flat. It’s linked to your email account.”

“A guy sold it to me.”

“When?”

“A few weeks back.”

“Where?”

“In a pub.”

“Which pub?”

“The Ox.”

“The Ox has been closed since March.”

“Must have been another pub. I can’t remember.”

Drury shakes his head. “I gave you extra time, Toby.”

“It’s true! A guy sold it to me. He was blond, fat, about forty. I think he was one of them problem gamblers you hear about, because he only wanted sixty quid.”

“And all the porn on the computer?”

Kroger grins, his gold tooth gleaming. “That’s not illegal.”

“The photographs you sold of Natasha McBain, who took them?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“We have CCTV footage of you collecting the money from a journalist, who has just identified you as being the source.”

His grin fades. He glances nervously at me. “I found them on the computer. The guy didn’t wipe his hard drive.”

“You recognized Natasha McBain?”

“Yeah.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“I saw an opportunity to make a few quid.”

“She was being sexually assaulted.”

“I didn’t watch the whole thing.”

“Maybe you think she deserved it.”

“None of my business.”

“Who took the footage?”

“I told you.”

“Some fat guy you met in the pub?”

“Yeah.”

“Last chance, Toby. I want the truth.”

Drury signals to the mirror. Moments later there is a knock. Dave Casey enters holding a mobile phone.

“Is this your phone, Toby?”

Kroger hesitates.

“It’s a pretty straightforward question,” says Drury. “It’s registered in your name. You took out the plan. What’s the security code?”

“I don’t have to tell you that.”

“Don’t worry-we’ve unlocked it already.”

Kroger is staring at the phone like it might detonate. “That’s my private property. You need a warrant or something for that.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.”

The DCI slides his finger across the screen.

“We’ve searched the memory. We found the footage.”

He turns the screen longways. Footage begins playing. Natasha is dancing on the small screen. Kroger won’t look.

“There was no fat man in the pub, Toby. You took the footage. You filmed what happened. She was fifteen years old. I counted six grown men. Seven counting you.”

“I just filmed, I didn’t touch her.”

“You raped her.”

“No, no, no.” He shakes his head from side to side, pleading with Drury to understand. “We just frightened her. We flicked her with towels. We made her dance. Nobody raped her.”

“Bollocks!”

“It’s true. Nobody raped her. I swear.”

“Where was it taken?”

Again Kroger hesitates. Drury slaps his hand on the table.

“How long do you think it’s going to take us to triangulate the signals and find out exactly where you were? And how long will it take before we trace the signals from other mobile phones at the same place at the same time? We’re going to get the names of everyone on this video and we’re going to charge them with sexual assault and kidnapping and maybe even murder.”

“What? No, no, we didn’t murder anyone. We didn’t kidnap her. It was just a bit of fun. Payback for what she done.”

“What did she do?”

Kroger stops himself. He’s said too much.

“Payback for what?” Drury asks again.

“Nothing. I mean, she was a prick-tease, you know. She was asking for trouble.”

“So you raped her?”

“Will you stop saying that?” Kroger looks at me for understanding and reacts angrily. “And you can stop staring at me.” He folds his arms. “I want a lawyer.”

“That’s your prerogative, Toby.”

“I’m not answering any more questions.”

“Fine. Have it your way. I am charging you with the imprisonment and sexual assault of Natasha McBain. You don’t have to say anything, but anything you do say will be taken down and can be used as evidence against you…”

Kroger tries to speak, but Drury drowns him out.

“You had your chance, Toby. Go back to the cells and come up with a better story. Be more creative. Amnesia maybe. Insanity. You’re going down for this. The Professor here has a daughter that age. That’s why he’s looking at you like that. He can see inside that festering little brain of yours. He knows you get off watching rape pornography.

“Imagine what it’s going to be like in prison-hundreds of blokes staring at you, wanting to cut your balls off for raping a minor. That makes you a kiddy fiddler, a pedo, a molester. They’ll be waiting for you, Toby.”

Kroger’s head is shaking from side to side. “I didn’t touch her, I tell you. I just took the footage. Nobody raped her.”

Drury leans closer. “You keep thinking that someone is going to save you. That this is all going to blow over. You’re wrong. You had your chance and you blew it. Your mate Craig Gould is downstairs and he’s going to sing like Amy Winehouse. He’ll cut a deal. Name names.”

Drury gets to his feet. I haven’t moved.

“I walk out that door and you spend the next twelve years inside.”

He doesn’t take more than three paces.

“OK, OK, sit down,” says Kroger, sniveling. “Nobody raped her, OK, but I’ll tell you what happened.”

Drury takes a seat. “Where was the film taken?”

“The changing rooms at Bingham Leisure Center.”

“What about Piper Hadley?”

“She was outside. We tied her up.”

“Where is she now?”

Kroger frowns. Shrugs. He raises his eyebrows, not understanding the question. The penny drops.

“We didn’t take them girls. We let ’em go.”

“Where?”

“At the swimming pool.” He makes it sound obvious. “We didn’t take them, I promise you.” He looks up at me again. “It’s the truth. Honest.”

“What did you do?”

“We roughed Tash up a little. Made her dance. Then we put her in the shower and cleaned her up, but that’s all. She was fine.”

“Fine?”

“You know what I mean.”

Drury tosses a pad onto the table.

“I want the names. Every last one of them.”

When it was over, I helped Tash put on her clothes and washed the blood from beneath her nose. She moved in slow motion, hurting in places I could never understand. There were red welts on her thighs and stomach, back and arms. Bruises coming.

They had warned us what would happen if we told anyone. There were photographs, they said, footage of Tash naked. They would upload it on the Internet and post the pictures on Facebook.

Then they told us to count to a thousand, so that’s what I did. I counted to a thousand and then I counted to two thousand.

Tash didn’t say anything. She could have been asleep.

Then I heard her voice, quiet and unsure. “Piper?” she said. “I want to leave now.”

I thought she meant go home, but she meant run away.

“I have five hundred pounds. How much can you get?”