EIGHTY-TWO

1.15 P.M.

The home of Peter Harris was unremarkable, Kim thought as they parked in front of a semi-detached redbrick property in Tipton. Although the plot of land on which it stood was more interesting.

It had once been the home of the Ocker Hill Power Station which when built in 1902 was intended to be the largest electric power installation in England. It never achieved that plaudit, and the last of it had been razed to the ground in 1985 to make way for housing.

Kim was trying hard to refocus on the job at hand and the person they needed to talk to, but the vision foremost in her mind was the bloodstain on the back of Frost’s sofa.

‘Ready?’ Bryant asked, switching off the engine.

‘Not really,’ Kim said honestly. There was a rage building inside her at the scene they’d just witnessed, and she didn’t know what to do with it. Left inside her, it would fester and grow and erupt from her, most likely at an undeserving victim. Even more likely at the colleague sitting beside her.

‘One sec,’ she said, taking out her phone.

She scrolled down her recent list and pressed call.

It was answered by a rough bark of a hello.

‘Found her,’ Kim said with false cheer.

She hoped those words alone would inform Hamish Fitzroy who was calling.

It did.

‘Well, I hope you passed on my?—’

‘I’d have loved to, but unfortunately she was unconscious and unresponsive due to someone breaking into her home and cracking her skull in.’

‘Hang on. Is she…?’

‘She’s on her way to Russell’s Hall Hospital, and they don’t know if they’ll be able to save her life. After the concern you showed earlier, I felt sure you’d want to know.’

‘Wait, wait…’

Kim ended the call and then blocked his number.

‘Better?’ Bryant asked.

‘Much,’ she answered, getting out of the car.

‘Don’t wanna burst your bubble, boss, but that vehicle we’re looking for ain’t on the drive.’

‘Shit, Bryant, I often wonder how I’d get by without you. I was thinking it was wearing an invisibility cloak.’

‘That wouldn’t even be funny on a good day,’ he moaned.

‘Neither would you telling me what I can see with my own two eyes,’ she said, knocking the door.

The man that answered was in his late thirties, slightly overweight with a shaved head. Kim vaguely remembered seeing him in the middle of the litter-picking crowd when she’d addressed the whole group.

The same recognition dawned on his face. ‘You’re that copper from yesterday.’

‘I am indeed. May we come in?’

He hesitated and shrugged before stepping back.

The house was clean and tidy but with few adornments.

As she followed him to the kitchen, she noted ones of everything; one pair of boots by the door, one winter coat hanging up, and yet there were framed photos on the wall of a threesome, himself with more muscle, an attractive wife and a girl around ten years old. None of the photos showed the girl any older than that.

Looking even closer, the photos were printed copies and not originals.

The photos continued into the kitchen, but still without any signs of the child ageing.

Peter Harris pointed to a small bistro table suitable for one person. A picture was starting to form.

She and Bryant took the uncomfortable chairs while the man leaned against the countertop and folded his arms.

Defensive already, Kim noted.

‘Everything okay, Mr Harris?’

Again, he shrugged.

‘You don’t seem pleased to see us.’

‘You’re police. Is anybody ever pleased to see you?’

‘Is now convenient? I mean if your wife is?—’

‘Not a problem. Now’s fine for whatever brings you here.’

Kim wanted to get to the van, but she was intrigued by his attitude and the photos of the child who never aged.

‘Lovely girl,’ Kim said, nodding towards one of the photos.

‘She is,’ he said without looking towards the wall.

‘She looks just like you. What year is she in?’

‘College,’ he answered.

‘Oh, sorry, I thought she was at junior school.’

‘She was the last time I saw her,’ he said bitterly.

‘Why’s that?’

‘Any reason you want to know?’

‘Any reason you don’t want to share?’ Kim said, holding his gaze.

After a full minute, he continued. ‘They left me. Or rather the bitch did and took my child.’

The flash of anger was intense. As though realising what he’d shown, he worked hard to loosen his facial muscles back to neutral.

‘How long ago?’ she asked pointedly.

‘Eight years. Not long after I got out of prison.’

‘Assault, wasn’t it?’ she pushed.

‘Like you don’t already know.’

‘I don’t know your side of it,’ Kim said, sitting back in the seat.

The move irked him. A flash of irritation tightened his jaw.

For some reason, the man did not want them in his house.

‘I was working, doing my job. It was Friday night in town. Usual madness and drunks, except for one guy who just wouldn’t back off.’

Kim knew he’d been a bouncer on the doors of a club in Wolverhampton in addition to his security job at the Mander Shopping Centre.

Bryant’s expression told her he thought they were wasting valuable time, but she disagreed. Whoever was pulling their strings had to have a reason, and they had to try and understand what their motivation might be.

‘Go on,’ she urged.

‘He was a damn nightmare all night. He got a rise out of me, so I became the entertainment for him and his buddies.’

‘What were they doing?’

‘Getting in my face, stepping on my toes, flicking my badge and calling me names. It sounds ridiculous, but after three hours of them keeping on, I pushed one of them, and he hit his head on the kerb. Permanent brain damage for him and five years in the slammer for me.’

She looked to the photos. ‘And that broke up the marriage?’

‘Oh yeah. She got a lot of shit after I went away. Abuse in the street, threats. I was given the nickname “the crippler” and she wasn’t gonna live her life attached to someone with that reputation,’ he spat.

‘Did you fight for your daughter?’

‘Of course, but the bitch got what she wanted. In the end, I gave up.’

‘Why?’

‘Cos the bitch kept dragging Emily to the court hearings. The poor kid was looking more and more distraught every time I saw her. I couldn’t keep doing that to her, so I walked away. I thought I’d get my chance when she was older. I set up social media accounts to find her. I did and I reached out. She blocked me. It’s done.’

‘Must have made you angry,’ Kim said.

He shrugged, but she could see the bitterness in his face.

‘Guess neither of them want an association with an ex-prisoner. The stigma is just too much for them both,’ he said. ‘And Emily is no better than her mother.’

Looking towards one of the photos, the rage in his eyes caused her to question his reasons for keeping the photos around. Were they a focus for vengeance? He had lost his family through their unwillingness to be linked to someone notorious. Was there a chance he wanted to make sure they would never be able to escape the stigma of being connected to a killer?

He turned those cold eyes back to her.

‘So now you know I’m a nobody with nothing, what else do you want to know?’

‘Your reasons for being in that litter-picking group.’

‘Against the law, is it?’

‘Just doesn’t fit if I’m honest,’ she said.

‘Just cos I don’t like coppers or them two,’ he said, nodding towards the photo, ‘doesn’t mean I hate everybody.’

She waited.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Jesus, do you want my soul? I had to do some community service after jail time. Litter-picking. I didn’t mind it. Felt like I was doing something useful.’

Listening to what he wasn’t saying, Kim got it. He was lonely. He’d lost everything: his profession, his family, his pride and likely most of his friends.

Volunteering at least gave him contact with other people.

‘Do you own a small Citro?n van?’ Kim asked.

‘Used to,’ he said, frowning.

‘Until when?’

He shrugged. ‘About six months ago. Why do you wanna know?’

Not a question Kim was going to answer at this point.

‘You got rid of it?’

He nodded.

‘How?’

‘Scrapped it.’

‘Where?’

‘Some tatters yard in Brierley Hill.’

‘Which one?’ Kim asked. She knew them all.

‘Tompkins, I think.’

It had only been six months. Surely it wasn’t that hard to remember?

‘Yeah, yeah, Tompkins just off the high street.’

‘That’s Dickie Tompkins’s place, the one just past the waterfront?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one, over by the waterfront,’ he said, repeating her words.

‘You’re sure about that?’ Kim checked.

‘Yeah, that was the one. It failed the MOT, and I couldn’t be arsed to spend good money on it.’

‘What did he give you for it?’

‘I dunno, a hundred quid maybe.’

Kim was not convinced by his story, seeing as every answer appeared to be a guess.

‘You know they keep records?’ Bryant asked.

‘I’m sure some of them do,’ Harris answered, recrossing his arms.

Kim stood. ‘If he has no records, you’ll likely be seeing us again,’ she said, heading for the door.

‘Can’t bloody wait,’ he said, closing the door behind them.

‘What a charmer,’ Bryant observed as they walked to the car.

He was indeed, and she would have liked to haul him down to the station for formal questioning. She already knew he wouldn’t agree of his own free will, and she pictured the reason on the arrest warrant: the man had attended a litter-pick and might be the owner of a van that might have been involved in the case. Oh yeah, a judge would love that. Wasn’t gonna happen.

Her main question in relation to Peter Harris was whether he possessed the intelligence to pull this off. She wasn’t sure, but she did know that he was a man with nothing left to lose.

‘Bryant, for your own safety I suggest you get us to a coffee outlet fast, or I’m not going to be responsible for my?—’

She stopped speaking as her phone rang. ‘Go ahead, Stace,’ she said as Bryant pulled away from the kerb.

‘This reporter, boss. He’s bad news.’

The rolling sensation was back in her stomach. ‘Go on.’

‘Basically he’s a bully. He writes hit piece after hit piece. Started off exposing footballers’ affairs. Moved on to threatening to “out” high-profile public figures. His name was linked to the suicide of a young rugby player who wasn’t ready to share his sexuality with the world. In the last couple of years, he’s focussed his efforts on exposing political corruption, even had a pop at a few police officers.’

‘Personal life?’ Kim asked, wondering if that was the cause of his frustration.

‘Nothing I’ve found so far. Why the background check?’ Stacey asked.

‘No reason.’

‘Anything more you need? Cos there’s something else I wanna take a look at.’

‘That’s it for now,’ Kim said before ending the call.

She could understand Stacey’s eagerness to turn her attention to the task at hand. There was nothing that the constable had shared that Kim hadn’t already suspected about the man. Like Stacey was about to do, Kim resolved to put him out of her mind.

She was most likely worrying over nothing.