Chapter 34

Chapter 34

‘You've got no right to do this. This is harassment …'

Ryan Marwood launched the words at Helen, as if she alone was responsible for his predicament.

‘I've done nothing wrong, but you still turn up at my house, dragging me out the door in front of the whole street …'

‘I'm sorry to hear that, Ryan. It wasn't our intention to embarrass you in any way. My officers were just discharging their duti—'

‘Bullshit, you knew exactly what you were doing,' Marwood retorted, incandescent with rage. ‘And it's bang out of order.'

Helen said nothing, pleased at Marwood's anger. Some suspects took a while to warm up, others refused to say a word. But Marwood had started talking the minute she'd entered the room, his fury growing with each passing minute. This suited Helen fine – the more riled their suspect was, the better.

‘Why is it you think you're here, Ryan?' Charlie asked innocently, stepping into the fray.

‘Because you need someone to fit up, a bloody scapegoat. I've been a good boy, done everything the probation service have asked of me, but as soon as you've got a problem, you come at me.'

‘Why would we do that?' Charlie persisted.

‘Because my face fits. Because I'm a bad seed, right?'

‘Your words, Ryan. Not ours.'

‘Well, it's a load of crap. I'm not involved and you can't prove it.'

‘We haven't even told you what we want to talk about yet,' Helen interjected, laughing.

‘Don't need to. I can guess what it's about …'

‘Care to enlighten us?'

Marwood was about to respond, then thought better of it, sitting back in his chair.

‘Let me help you,' Helen continued. ‘Two days ago, fifteen-year-old Naomi Watson went missing. She was last seen in the southern part of the city, in the Lordship Road underpass.'

Helen slid a photo of Naomi across the table towards Marwood, but he refused to look at it.

‘We believe she was driven out of that underpass in a Renault Movano van, registration number OT16 VXL. Ring any bells?'

‘Don't drive a van,' Marwood replied grudgingly. ‘Don't even have a car …'

‘Thing is, this van was supposed to have been destroyed two months ago, at the council pound where you work.'

‘Nothing to do with me,' the suspect replied, shrugging.

‘Once more with feeling, Ryan. And this time look at me when you're lying.'

Marwood refused to oblige, keeping his gaze glued to the floor.

‘When did you steal it?'

‘Don't know what you're talking about.'

‘And did you steal it with the express purpose of using it to abduct young girls? Or was there another reason you needed it?'

‘Ah, this is nuts,' Marwood responded angrily, finally looking up. ‘Why would I steal something when I'm on probation? When I could get thrown back inside in a heartbeat?'

‘The same reason that you targeted those poor girls, that you forced yourself on young women who were too intoxicated or scared to resist. Because you can't stop yourself. Because you can't control your desire to subjugate and degrade young women.'

‘That was the old me. It's not who I am now .'

‘So if I was to talk to your probation officer, your co-workers, your mum, they'd confirm that you're a changed man, would they?' Helen persisted. ‘A little angel?'

‘No need to take the piss, all right?' Marwood responded, visibly annoyed. ‘I've done my time, done my therapy, I've dealt with my issues.'

‘Well, forgive me if I don't believe you,' Helen retorted angrily. ‘But I still remember what you did to those girls. How you preyed on their trust, won their confidence with your smart uniform and your comforting words, convinced them that you were there to help . I interviewed half of them and let me tell you, their testimonies are burned in my memory. The things you said to them, the depraved way you treated them, how you tried to shame them into keeping silent afterwards. Yes, you may have sat through your therapy sessions, said all the right things, but I don't think you've changed one bit. You're still the old Ryan. Still a serious, active danger to women and girls …'

Marwood shook his head violently, but refused to engage, glaring fiercely at Helen.

‘I'm showing the suspect a picture of Mia Davies,' Helen continued, unabashed. ‘We believe she may also have been abducted by the same perpetrator. Would you look at the photo and tell me if you recognize her, Ryan?'

Reluctantly, the suspect lowered his eyes to take in first Mia's photo, then Naomi's.

‘Don't recognize her. Nor the other one neither.'

‘They have names, Ryan. Mia Davies and Naomi Watson. They are people's daughters, people's friends. And they belong at home, safe and sound. This is your opportunity to help them, to help yourself. Tell us where they are, tell us where the van is, maybe we can still make this right.'

‘I don't know anything about them, I don't know anything about any van …'

Unimpressed, Helen sat back in her head, shaking her head dismissively.

‘Shake your head all you want,' Marwood continued angrily. ‘But you don't know what's inside me, who I am.'

‘Maybe not, but your mother does, right?' Charlie interjected, cutting off his protest. ‘Your poor mum, who's stuck with you through thick and thin, who's tried to do right by you …'

Marwood's anger seemed to evaporate almost immediately, replaced by blushing shame.

‘She knows you better than anyone and she thinks you're responsible for these girls' disappearance.'

The effect on Marwood was instant, the suspect darting a charged look at Charlie, fearful and concerned.

‘She told us how you've been breaking curfew, returning after sun up, refusing to say where you've been. How you've been pulling the wool over the eyes of the probation service, your counsellor, even your own mother, all in a desperate attempt to conceal your criminality.'

‘She never said that.'

‘She said that and more. And guess what? We believe her. Which is why we're not going anywhere – why you're not going anywhere – until you tell us where those girls are.'

Marwood glared at Charlie, stung by the ferocity of her attack. He seemed shocked by this sudden cranking up of the pressure and Helen was quick to take advantage.

‘This is the end of the road, Ryan. She's given you up. At long last, your poor mother has finally seen sense. She says you're too far gone, that …'

Helen paused, making a show of consulting her notes.

‘… that you're sick in the head.'

Helen was pleased to see Marwood flinch, her words striking home.

‘That you've deliberately flouted the terms of your licence in order to target, stalk and abduct vulnerable girls. Which is why I'll ask you again if you recognize Naomi Watson?'

‘I've said no, all right? How many more times?'

‘So where were you on the night of the ninth of November? Between the hours of 9 p.m. and midnight?'

‘I was at home.'

‘Except you weren't, Ryan. Your mother has confirmed that she is prepared to testify under oath that you weren't at the home that night.'

‘OK, so maybe I did nip out for a bit – no big deal.'

‘On the contrary, it's a very big deal. What were up to?'

‘I don't know, driving around, whatever.'

‘So you do have a vehicle?' Charlie interjected quickly.

‘No, I mean walking. I was probably just walking …'

‘Do you have any idea how unconvincing this all sounds?' Helen goaded, her tone withering.

‘Look, I'm telling you the truth,' he blurted out.

‘Bullshit. You've been lying to us since the moment you set foot in this room. Why? Because you're guilty, guilty of abducting Mia Davies, of abducting Naomi Watson, to satiate your own twisted desires. So why don't you stop treating us like mugs, eh? Tell us where are they, Ryan. Tell us where you've taken those poor girls.'

Silence in the room. Marwood continued to stare at the floor, fidgeting unhappily. Helen was watching him intently, hoping to see a sign of submission, that her words had finally cut through. But when Marwood finally looked up, she saw only a dull, dead-eyed defiance.

‘Like I said, I never touched those girls and you can't prove that I did. So why don't you just cut the crap and let me go, eh?'