Chapter 58

Chapter 58

Sixteen stunned faces stared back at her, some looking confused and unnerved, others downright angry. Following her interview with Brent Mason, Helen had put a general call out to the Major Incident Team, pulling them all back to base. Now they were arrayed in front of her, silent and brooding, stunned by what they'd just heard.

‘We have to get this right,' Helen continued, refusing to be intimidated or diverted. ‘And given what we now know, I think we have to seriously question whether Ryan Marwood was involved in the abductions of Naomi Watson and Mia Davies.'

DC Jennings exhaled, long and loud, as a couple of his colleagues shook their heads dolefully, deeply unimpressed.

‘Meredith Walker's team has now completed a thorough sweep of the Renault Movano that Marwood's been driving. There is no DNA trace at all of Naomi or Mia, or anyone else for that matter, apart from Ryan Marwood.'

‘He could have cleaned it?' DC Reid offered.

‘That thoroughly?' Helen replied, sceptical. ‘To leave no trace at all ?'

‘Furthermore,' Charlie said, stepping into the fray, ‘Jim Grieves' examination of Marwood's body revealed no signs of recent sexual activity. Now Marwood was not a guy who washed much, showering at best once a week, yet there was no trace of semen, or lubricant, or foreign pubic hairs on his body, nothing. Nor did he have any recent injuries, any foreign skin cells or DNA under his fingernails, anything suggestive of a struggle or recent sexual assault.'

‘What he did have on his body, according to Jim,' Helen added, ‘were plenty of fresh track marks and a very healthy concentration of heroin in his blood stream. All this, allied to the testimony from Brent Mason about their encounter in the underpass, leads me to speculate that Marwood's current affliction, his current obsession, was hard drugs. Maybe his time inside, the endless therapy sessions and group workshops, had helped him gain control over his darker urges, his sexual deviancy, but he still couldn't kick the drugs. We know he used them heavily during his time in prison to blot out the violence, the misery. He must have known that if he got caught buying or using drugs again, he'd be straight back inside. Perhaps that's why he used an unlicensed vehicle when he went out at night, a van that couldn't immediately be traced back to him. Perhaps that's also why he resisted arrest, why he ultimately took his own life rather than be caught.'

‘So we're taking the word of junkies and dealers now, are we?' Jennings interrupted, exasperated. ‘Brent Mason is a roach, nothing more, nothing less.'

‘You've got to say,' DC McAndrew added cautiously, ‘he's not exactly a model witness, guv?'

‘Maybe so,' Helen countered, ‘but he was extremely honest about everything else, admitting to regularly selling hard drugs in that underpass. Both DS Brooks and I believed his testimony, believed him when he said that Marwood was only there to score drugs.'

‘So we're back to square one?' DC Malik asked nervously, looking downcast.

Helen understood her pain. The team were keen to celebrate a successful investigation, they'd had the station chief in earlier encouraging them to do just that. But they had to follow the evidence, wherever it might lead them.

‘Not quite,' Helen replied forcefully. ‘I'd like us to take a closer look at PC Dave Reynolds.'

‘Oh, come off it,' DC Jennings protested angrily. ‘You can't be serious?'

‘Does it not strike you as odd that the only piece of evidence linking Ryan Marwood to Naomi Watson was found just hours after PC Reynolds was in his house?' Helen countered forcefully. ‘Beth Beamer has confirmed that she searched the downstairs rooms, whilst Reynolds was alone upstairs in Ryan Marwood's bedroom. Earlier search teams found nothing, yet second time round, after Marwood's death, suddenly they chance upon a key piece of evidence?'

‘Maybe they just did their job properly second time round,' Jennings retorted. ‘Just as Reynolds was doing his when he turned up at the Marwood home. He was hunting down an escaped suspect, doing what you asked him to do, and for that we're going to damn him? Slander an innocent man, a brave and popular colleague …'

‘Think about it,' Charlie stepped in, her voice laced with frustration. ‘Reynolds walks the streets of Southampton every day in his role as a beat officer. According to his HR record, he could have taken a desk job years ago, but he's insisted on remaining a lowly foot soldier. Pounding the streets in all weathers, slowly earning people's trust, becoming a known face, a fixture on the scene. Plenty of opportunity there to scope his victims, talk to them, check out whether they are isolated and vulnerable. Plus, if he returned to them later, they'd probably go off with him without a fuss, out of fear of arrest or because they trusted the uniform.'

It was a hideous idea, one which clearly troubled several members of the team.

‘Well it's possible of course,' DC Reid replied, uncomfortable. ‘But there's no actual evidence supporting any of this. It's all supposition and innuendo, based on a single lapse of memory. I think it's a massive gamble to go further with this, unless we're absolutely sure. Think of the damage it would do station morale, to any sense of camaraderie between us and the ranks. He's seriously popular round here – a mentor, a mate, the best of colleagues. Personally, I think the risk is just too great.'

‘I don't agree,' Helen replied firmly, staring directly at Reid, before letting her gaze run over the rest of the team. ‘If I'm wrong, I'll take full responsibility. But I'm not prepared to overlook potential criminal wrongdoing simply because we're scared of ruffling feathers. I want a full investigation into PC Dave Reynolds – his recent movements, his beat pattern, his digital footprint and communications, as well as a thorough trawl of medical, financial and HR records for both him and his family.'

Already loud mutterings could be heard, so Charlie stepped in.

‘I will talk to you individually, apportioning specific tasks. In the meantime, DI Grace and I will take point on trying to contact those young women who have complained about PC Reynolds historically, to see what light they can shed on things. DC Wilson, whilst we're doing that, I'd like you to go over the statements given by the other drivers who dawdled in the Lordship Road underpass on the night of the ninth, to see if we can detect any inconsistencies.'

‘This is desperate stuff,' DC Jennings complained, shaking his head. ‘Really desperate.'

‘I disagree,' Helen responded coolly. ‘But if that's how you really feel, you're free to put in a transfer request at any time. That goes for any others present who have a problem with this unit's senior leadership team.'

Her eyes never left Jennings as she spoke, her gaze boring into him. Caught off guard, he now backtracked quickly.

‘I'm not going anywhere – I've worked too hard to get here. But I'm saying openly, for all to hear, that I think this is a huge mistake.'

His eyes were locked onto Helen's. Taking confidence from the small gaggle of officers who now gathered around him, offering their support, Jennings added:

‘One you'll come to regret.'