Noelle Holten - Dead Wrong

Sasha shrugged. ‘I was adopted by a pair of pricks when I was three, but I probably would have been better off with my parents. After a few years of getting kicked about, Social Services took me out of that home and I was put in care where the abuse continued. I’ve been in prison a few times, as I’m sure my record shows – shoplifting, drugs, but nothing in the last ten years. That’s my life. Anything else?’

Maggie noted the track marks on Sasha’s arms and considered asking about the bruise on her face. Perhaps Maggie should report her to someone. Sasha took a sip of water, her skin pale under the strip lighting, and Maggie felt a surge of pity for her. There were so many women like this who had been dealt a bad hand of cards in life and never stood a chance. ‘If you want to talk about anything, I can put you in touch with someone.’

Sasha laughed weakly and shook her head. ‘Don’t you worry about me.’

They fell silent for a moment and Maggie glanced at the clock. ‘We really need your help with this case. Can you recall anything significant that happened in 2016 that you may have missed?’

Sasha bit her lip. ‘Not really. I spent most of that time with Adrian, off my face on drugs. In fact, I couldn’t get rid of that arsehole. He was my … business partner at the time.’

Maggie knew that Harrison dealt drugs and, given Sasha’s evasive response, Maggie figured this was the business she was referring to. ‘Care to elaborate on that, Miss Thompson? You were Mr Harrison’s alibi, weren’t you? What can you tell us about him?’

‘Actually, no. I don’t care to elaborate and yes I was, what of it? I’m not really sure what else I can add to what you lot already know. Adrian is a loser. And I mean that in the nicest way. He’s a bit of an attention seeker, but most people find him annoying. Once he likes someone, he latches on to them. Bit like a pet dog.’

‘Interesting way to describe your boyfriend.’

‘Boyfriend? Ha! Where did you get that idea? Just because you shag a guy a few times doesn’t make him your boyfriend, DC Jamieson.’

‘Oh. Your previous statement said he was your boyfriend.’

‘Well clearly that’s a mistake. He’s a friend and a boy. That’s about it.’

Maggie pulled out Sasha’s original statement and went through the rest of it with her.

‘Can you account for your whereabouts around the time just before and on the day that Miss Rugman’s remains were discovered?’

‘Is this a joke?’

‘I’m afraid not. Can you answer the question?’

‘Do I need a lawyer?’

‘I don’t know, Miss Thompson. Do you think you need one?’

‘I know what you coppers are like.’ She shifted in the seat. ‘Just covering my arse. I can tell you exactly where I was. In Manchester with some mates. I can even give you their details if you want.’ Maggie watched as she rummaged through the bag she had with her. Her hand shook as she pulled out a small, red notebook. ‘Do you have a piece of paper and a pen?’

Maggie tore a sheet from her pad and pushed it across to Sasha, with the pen she had been using.

‘What were you doing in Manchester?’

‘Catching up with friends and taking care of a little business …’ She handed Maggie the piece of paper and her pen. ‘Call them. They’ll tell you.’

‘OK. Thanks. Is there anything else you want to add?’

‘Nah.’ She bit her lip.

‘Do you have a contact number and address where we can reach you in case we have any further questions?’

‘’Fraid not. I’m sofa surfing at the moment and lost my mobile when I was in Manchester.’ She pointed to a number on the paper she had just given to Maggie. ‘Ring her if you need me, she’ll pass on any messages.’

‘Thanks for your time.’ Maggie escorted Sasha back to reception and waited as the woman signed out. ‘Here’s my card, if you need to reach me.’ Sasha pocketed the card and left the station. Maggie sighed and returned to her desk upstairs.

‘Did you get anything new to add to the investigation?’ Bethany turned her chair towards Maggie.

‘I wish. The only connection between the women and Lorraine is drugs and sex work … none of which brings us any closer to our killer.’

Bill Raven watched himself again on the television and smiled . I’m fucking famous. He deserved all this attention. He was dominating the television channels, and had reporters harassing the prison on a daily basis to speak with him.

Finally.

He looked at the cheap watch he had been sent by an admirer. People were sending him things regularly, they adored him. It was almost time for his medication, to keep the voices away.

Ha! The voices …

Coming off heroin in prison was hard – it wasn’t the plan, but it had to be done. Heroin, pretty much any drug, was available to him, but it countered the effects of the pills and that just wouldn’t do.

The prison psychologist wouldn’t sign him off medication supervision until Bill could demonstrate that he would stay clean. He had to prove that he would take the prescription and, truth be told, the meds calmed him down. Complete sobriety often led to him getting aggressive, and that wouldn’t do either. They couldn’t see that side of him yet. Plus, he had to stem the voices, right? The ones that made him do bad things …

Yeah, that’s what happened. He smiled to himself.

The guard came and unlocked his door. Raven smirked as the man kept his distance. He could use their fear … one day. But for now, he needed to collect his tablets before he could have a shower. He was excited. He had a big day ahead. The police would be visiting him to go over everything he remembered from his original confession. He had been waiting for this. He would tell them as much as he could, not everything of course. He had some business of his own to take care of first.

He imagined the day he would be released. With his old flat not available to him, his solicitor had said he would probably be placed in temporary accommodation while they sorted out his personal matters. When Raven was in his mid-twenties, his grandmother had sold the large home he had grown up in as she couldn’t afford the upkeep. He had fond memories of that place. He sighed. She had bought herself a more manageable property and, before any of this inconvenience , she had passed away leaving him the small bungalow in Doxley, a rural village just outside of Stafford. But there was paperwork and other matters to be dealt with before he could move in. With the money she had left him, he was going to buy himself a little van and set up his own business – a gardener, maybe. He liked working with his hands. He had a lot of plans and was looking forward to getting started. He rubbed his palms together.

When he had first been arrested, Bill had felt strangely euphoric. Fame at last! No more being the brunt of jokes, bossed about – he was the man , and everyone wanted to know his story.

Telling the police he was responsible for murdering Lorraine, Yvonne, and Zoe made him feel powerful. The look on their faces as he described what he had done. Raven licked his lips.

Being charged. Oh, they all thought they were so clever. Poor, poor Maggie. He wondered how she felt now as she watched her career falling down a black hole. He wished he could have seen her face when she first learned about his appeal.

And finally, being convicted. Seeing the look of distress on the jury’s faces as the verdict was read out. He took a deep, satisfying breath. Closed his eyes and tried desperately to recapture that feeling again.

With his appeal in place, he had access to all the paperwork that had ultimately led to his conviction. The trial hadn’t been long because he had pleaded guilty. Three women had been presumed dead and a few small bits of forensics had backed up his confession. A hair here, a droplet of blood there …