Danielle Ramsay - Broken Silence

‘Take another look then,’ suggested Brady.

‘What I mean is there is no proof that the man in these photographs is my client,’ replied Travers stiffly.

‘Admittedly, it’s easy to see that the girl, dating from as young as eleven up to fifteen, is Sophie Washington, Mr Simmons’ step-daughter,’ agreed Brady. ‘This latest photograph here even shows the victim’s distinctive tattoo.’

‘I… I can’t dispute that. But as to the man in thephotographs with her, well … it’s inconclusive as to whether it’s my client or not,’ pointed out Travers.

‘So it seems,’ replied Brady. He then looked straight at Simmons. ‘But you’re not as clever as you think you are, sir.’

Brady pulled out a handful of disks from the file in front of him.

‘These are films that you made over the period of the four years you were in Sophie Washington’s life. Unlike the photographs here where you’ve selected the image to exclude your face, these films do contain images of your face. Images that we were able to digitally enhance to prove 100 per cent that you are the male actively engaged in these extremely pornographic images involving your step-daughter.’

Brady watched as Simmons now stared straight ahead, refusing to look at the photos on the table.

‘I … I would like to see the evidence that proves that the man in these photographs is my client,’ demanded Travers.

‘Of course,’ obliged Brady as he pulled out more photographs.

He laid them on top of the other photographs.

‘There’s no denying that the man in these film images is Paul Simmons,’ Brady flatly stated.

Travers cleared his throat as he looked at them.

‘Not very tasteful are they?’ said Brady, noticing Travers’ bronzed face flush an unhealthy colour. ‘Some of the acts of sexual abuse committed on the victim by your client in these shots are the worst acts of child sexual abuse I’ve ever seen. So extreme that the majority of them fall into the category of Level 5,’ Brady pointed out. ‘Add to that the knowledge that some of these extreme acts of child sexualabuse were filmed live on the internet on virtually a daily basis for other like-minded men.’

Not that Brady had needed to add that. He could see from Travers’ taut, sickened expression that he had got the message.

‘Given the severity of the child pornography that we’re dealing with here, the Serious and Organised Crime Agency will be taking over this investigation. And, as you can see from the photographs before you, which is only a fraction of Mr Simmons’ disturbing collection of his step-daughter, they have enough evidence to put your client away for an indefinite period of time.’

Satisfied, Brady watched as Travers, lost for words, tried to regain some composure.

‘Yes … well, I think I need some time to confer with my client…’ Travers replied, as he turned to Simmons.

‘Take as long as you want,’ suggested Brady. ‘He’s going nowhere.’

He looked at Conrad and nodded. They were finished with Simmons.

‘Interview terminated at 10.27 am,’ he stated as he shoved his chair back and stood up.

Brady gave Simmons one last cursory glance.

‘I only wish that it hadn’t taken Sophie’s murder for your sick abuse of her to be exposed. Whatever happens to you will never make up for the horrific sexual acts you did to that eleven-year-old girl,’ Brady said as he picked up one of the photos. He shoved it in front of Simmons’ face. ‘See? See that? That ripped the victim’s eleven-year-old body apart. The damage was so brutal that the scars and trauma were still painfully evident in her autopsy.’

Simmons turned away.

‘Look at what you did to her, you sick son of a bitch!’ demanded Brady as he pushed the photograph into Simmons’ face. ‘I should make you choke on it, you bastard!’

‘DI Brady, I wish to remind you that this threatening behaviour is completely unacceptable,’ complained Travers.

‘Yeah?’ snarled Brady, refusing to take his eyes off Simmons. ‘So sue me!’

‘And you, you sick son of a bitch. I swear you’ll live to regret every act of sexual abuse you committed on her so help me God!’ threatened Brady as he scrunched up the photograph in his hand and threw it at Simmons’ rigid face.

‘Come on, Conrad, the air in here is turning my stomach!’ Brady said as he turned and left.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Brady was on his third coffee as he sat in the depressing basement canteen. He couldn’t digest anything after his interview with Simmons. The Serious and Organised Crime Agency were on their way which meant that Brady would have no further dealings with him. Not that he was bothered. He just wanted the assurance that the bastard would get everything he deserved.

He looked up at the barred windows and wondered what was going through Matthews’ head right now. Brady couldn’t figure him out; this wasn’t Matthews. Sure he may have had a hard job keeping his dick in his trousers, but shagging a fifteen-year-old girl and then murdering her? That wasn’t the Matthews Brady had known for sixteen years. Brady watched the miserable drizzle steadily trickle down the barred windows, blurring the outside world. He didn’t know why he was sat there. He just knew he needed somewhere familiar to get his head around what had happened in the past twelve hours.

He couldn’t help going over the events that had led to Matthews’ arrest. He wished he’d stayed with the others in The Fat Ox instead of tracking down Madley. Brady accepted that he had been looking for trouble and that’swhat he’d got. But he had never expected it to turn out this way. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he had set Matthews up; that Matthews had walked into Brady’s trap. But it wasn’t like that. Not that Matthews would believe him. Brady had had no idea that he would end up finding incriminating evidence against Matthews when he searched his house. Let alone that Conrad would call Gates while he was in there. But then again, if Conrad hadn’t then maybe Brady wouldn’t be sat in the miserable police canteen on his third coffee. He’d be dead and Matthews would be long gone.

Brady stared at the grey dusty shafts of light stabbing through the barred windows. Matthews was scared to talk; scared shitless of the consequences. Brady tried to ignore the thought that kept going through his mind. It was too horrific to even contemplate.

He took a sip of burnt, bitter tasting coffee.

His phone rang. He picked it up off the table and answered it.

‘What?’ he muttered thickly.

‘I heard about Jimmy,’ she explained.

‘Yeah?’ said Brady, not in the mood for talking.

‘Conrad told me,’ she added.

‘So?’

‘You look like you need someone to talk to, that’s all.’

Brady suddenly realised that she was standing a few tables away from him.

‘I’m not in the mood for small talk,’ he warned.

‘Good, that makes two of us,’ Jenkins concluded as she walked over to him.

She pulled out a chair and joined him.

They sat in silence for a few minutes while Brady mulled over everything that had happened.

‘I need to get him to talk,’ Brady eventually stated. ‘But he thinks I set him up.’

‘And did you?’ Jenkins asked.

‘What do you think?’ replied Brady edgily.

He wearily sighed as he ran his hand over his stubble. He hadn’t had time to shower this morning. Not that it mattered.

‘Shit, Amelia! Matthews thinks I was behind his arrest. That I had it planned and had arranged for an armed response team to be there, along with Gates. How the hell was I to know he was going to be at the house? He’d gone to ground for the past few days not answering my calls. And then he turns up when I least expect.’