Bleed for Me (41 page)

‘We can’t corroborate her story. There are no emails, notes or phone cal s. Nobody saw them together except for Danny Gardiner, and he only puts them in a car. We’ve tracked both their mobiles. Apart from at the school, we can’t put Sienna and El is within fifty yards of each other.’

‘Gordon made her turn her phone off. What about the chat-room conversations?’

‘We’re getting the transcripts. Even if they show Sienna was coerced, we stil have to prove that El is created this “Rockaboy” persona. We’ve got a search warrant for his home and office but I doubt if we’l find any computers.’

Cray’s eyes continue to search my face. ‘Tel me how Annie Robinson comes into this.’

‘I think she was blackmailing Gordon El is over his affair with Sienna.’

‘Evidence?’

‘Annie knew about the relationship but she didn’t tel the school or Sienna’s parents.’

‘She was protecting a col eague.’

‘It was more than that. She’s living beyond her means. Expensive clothes. Shoes. Her flat. She also lied about dating Gordon El is at col ege.’

‘And Novak Brennan?’

‘He and El is shared a house together at university. Brennan was supplying drugs to half the campus, according to Annie. El is was one of his dealers.’

‘That was years ago.’

‘They say the friends you make at university are the ones you keep for life.’

‘You think El is sent her the wine?’

‘I don’t know. It seems too clumsy.’

‘Clumsy?’

‘He doesn’t make many mistakes.’

‘Maybe he panicked.’

‘Somehow I doubt it.’

Cray stands, stretches her arms and rol s her head from side to side.

‘We’re running out of time, Professor. We can’t prove that Gordon El is groomed Sienna. We can’t prove he slept with her. And we can’t prove he got her pregnant. Unless Annie Robinson can corroborate Sienna’s story, El is is going to walk out of here with a spring in his step and a hard-on for more schoolgirls.’

I look at the clock. I have just a few hours to come up with an interview strategy. I need to know everything I can about Gordon El is - his history, his friends, his relationships . . . I need to know about his state of mind, his personality, the light and shade of his existence. I have to walk through his mind, see the world through his eyes; discover what excites him and what he fears most.

Finding a quiet corner, I sit down at a desk and begin listening to the tapes of Sienna’s police interview. Fast-forwarding and playing excerpts, I listen to Sienna explaining how she was groomed by her favourite teacher, wooed with kindness and compliments. Eventual y, the relationship became a physical one and they would rendezvous in Gordon’s car after school, parking in lay-bys and quiet lanes, always somewhere different. Occasional y, he took her to cheap motorway hotels or organised for her to stay overnight when she babysat Bil y.

Gordon would slip into her bed during the night, getting a thril out of taking her while his wife lay sleeping.

I was worried because I lost an earring. It was Mum’s favourite pair. I thought it might have slipped down the sofa or been in the bed. Gordon got really angry because Natasha
found it in the main bedroom and accused him of sleeping with me. She wouldn’t let me babysit after that. Mum went crazy looking for the earring. She turned our house upside
down. You won’t tell her, will you?

Monk tel s her no. He asks if she kept any notes, photographs or gifts from Gordon.

He said I couldn’t tell anyone.

But you must have kept something - a memento.

What’s a memento?

Something to remind you, like a souvenir.

No, not really. I used to write a diary on my computer, but I used different names.

Where is the computer now?

It was stolen . . . when Daddy got . . . when he died.

The interview switched to the day of Ray Hegarty’s murder. After Danny Gardiner dropped Sienna on a street corner in Bath she waited for Gordon El is. He arrived with another man and they made her lie down on the back seat.

What did the other man look like?

I wasn’t supposed to see his face.

But you did.

Yes. He had black tears coming from his eyes.

Tattoos?

Yes.

Do you know his name?

No.

What did Gordon tell you?

Sienna hesitates. Faltering.
He said I had to have sex with someone. I asked him why and he said I had to prove how much I loved him.

‘But you know I love you,’ I said.

‘Prove it one more time.’

‘What if I don’t want to?’

‘You’ll do it anyway.’

‘What if he’s ugly?’

‘Close your eyes and think of me.’

Monk asks her about the drive, which took longer than fifteen minutes but less than an hour, according to Sienna. When the car pul ed up, Gordon told her to brush her hair and put on fresh make-up. She was wearing her black flapper dress from the musical.

Gordon took me to the door and knocked. A man answered.

What did he look like?

Old - maybe fifty - he had a red face.

What colour hair?

He didn’t have much hair. He offered me a glass of champagne. I made a mistake and told him I was too young. Then I remembered that Gordon had said I wasn’t to tell him my
age. ‘How young?’ the man asked. I lied and said I was eighteen.

‘You’re shivering. Are you cold?’

‘No.’

‘Have you done this before?’

‘No.’

Then he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed my dress down my arms. I tried to cover myself, but he said I shouldn’t be ashamed . . .

Sienna began to weep and Monk suspended the interview, announcing the time. There is a pause in the recording and I hear his voice again - commencing a new session.

At that moment I catch a movement out of the corner of my eye. Sienna is awake. Sleepy.

‘What are you listening to?’ she asks.

‘Your interview.’

She lowers her eyes. Embarrassed.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Like an elephant sat on my chest.’

I pul up a chair. She hugs her knees. ‘Pretty stupid, huh?’

‘Don’t be too hard on yourself.’

‘Are they going to arrest him?’

‘Yes.’

The WPC brings her a cup of tea. Sienna nurses it in both hands, warming her fingers. I can barely recognise the girl I first met. Her sassy, in-your-face attitude and confidence have been stripped away.

How wil she recover from this? It’s possible. She’s intel igent and sensitive. With the right role models and advice she can stil make something of her life. Otherwise she’s going to end up in the arms of some wife beater or abuser who wil recognise that Ray Hegarty and Gordon El is have done al the hard work in breaking her spirit.

I ask her about the house she visited. The man she had to sleep with. She hesitates, not wanting to go over it again.

‘Remember what we did before? If you don’t want to answer a question, al you have to do is raise your right hand, just your fingers. It’s our special signal.’

Sienna nods.

‘What do you remember about the house?’

‘It had lots of old stuff. Furniture. Antiques, maybe. And one of those big clocks that bongs every hour. It was bonging when he was . . . when he was . . . you know.’

‘He took you upstairs?’

‘Yes.’

‘Were there paintings on the wal s?’

‘Dead people in frames.’

‘What was he wearing?’

‘A dressing gown. And he had on a pair of those half slippers like my grandad wears. They flap up and down when you walk.’

‘Did he say anything?’

‘He was nice. He asked my name. When I told him he said, “I don’t suppose that’s your real name.” I knew I should have made one up.’

‘Did he tel you his name?’

‘No.’

Sienna is looking at me, gauging my reaction, wanting to know whether I think less of her now.

‘At first I thought he was just lonely, you know, like old and on his own, but then I found out he was married.’

‘How?’

‘I opened one of the wardrobes. I saw dresses and shoes. And I think he might have had a daughter my age because once he cal ed me by a different name.’

‘What name?’

‘Megan.’

I know I could get more details from Sienna if I took her back to that night and did a proper cognitive interview, getting her to concentrate on the sounds, the smel s, the images. But what would it cost her? I’d risk traumatising a girl who had been through enough.

Instead I choose another event: her weekend away with Gordon El is. It was in the autumn, not long after they went back to school.

‘Danny picked me up from school and dropped me at a lay-by on the A26. Gordon wanted to make sure nobody saw us together, so he made me lie down in the back seat under a blanket.

‘Where was Bil y?’

‘He was next to me in his booster seat. He thought it was a game, like peek-a-boo.’

‘Did Gordon say where you were going?’

‘To the seaside; I think he said the caravan was in Cornwal .’

‘That’s a long way.’

Sienna shrugs.

I quiz her about the drive, but she can’t remember any road signs or place names. At one point Gordon said he was hungry and they stopped for fish and chips. He made Sienna wait in the car and took Bil y with him.

‘I want you to close your eyes and think back. You’re in the car alone. Remember how it smel ed and what you were wearing. You were excited. Anxious. Nervous perhaps. Gordon has gone to get the fish and chips. You’re waiting. What can you remember?’

‘There was a Lily Al en song on the radio.’

‘That’s good.’

‘And I forgot to tel Gordon to get me ketchup. I don’t like vinegar on my chips.’

‘Did you go and tel him?’

‘No. He told me to stay in the car.’

‘What about your mobile?’

‘He made me turn it off.’

‘What did you see outside?’

‘A picture-framing shop . . . another place with salamis in the window.’

‘What else?’

‘There was a pub over the road with a sign outside. It said, “Dogs Welcome.” I laughed and showed it to Gordon because I kept thinking of these dogs going in and ordering drinks at the bar.’ She opens her eyes and looks at me. ‘I don’t suppose that’s much use.’

‘You’d be surprised.’

I take her over the rest of the journey, plucking out smal , often random details. She recal s certain songs on the radio and a bil board advertising a golf course and the smel of a poultry farm.

‘After that I guess I just fel asleep.’

‘For how long?’

She screws up her face in concentration. ‘Gordon said I had food poisoning.’

‘You must have woken up at some point.’

‘Gordon said I’d been sick on my clothes, which is why he took them off. “I brought pyjamas,” I told him, but he said I was sick on those too.’

‘You were naked?’

Sienna blushes and the details turn to dust in my mouth.

‘Tel me about the caravan?’

Her forehead furrows. ‘It had a bed and a little sink and a table that folded away.’

‘Did it have curtains?’

‘They were black and they were taped down.’

‘Did you ever manage to look outside?’

‘I woke up during the night. I was
so
thirsty. At first I was frightened because I couldn’t remember where I was and it was so dark.’

‘Where was Gordon?’

‘He must have gone out. My head was real y heavy. I hooked my fingers beneath the tape on the windows and lifted a corner. I could see coloured lights and hear music. Kids were yel ing. It was a fairground. It made me think of when I was eleven and we went to Blackpool. Lance won me a panda on the shooting gal ery and I kissed a boy from Maidstone who Mum said was my cousin but he was just a friend of the family.’

Sienna smiles shyly.

‘This fairground, what rides could you see?’

‘I think it had a merry-go-round. I could see the coloured lights on the canopy. Is that important?’

‘It might be.’

47

The first pale suggestion of dawn has appeared on the horizon as a faint grey smudge. F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote that the real dark night of the soul is always three o’clock in the morning, but that’s not right. The darkest part of the night is just before dawn when we wake and peer through the curtains and wonder where the world has gone.

Headlights appear and disappear on the M32. A rubbish truck is reversing into an al ey. A shift worker hurries along the footpath. The day begins.

Visiting the bathroom, I squeeze the last urine from my bladder and take another few pil s, before going in search of Ronnie Cray. I find her pacing the vehicle lock-up with an unlit cigarette in her lips. Like an obsessive compulsive, she is ful of tics and routines. She taps the cigarette against her wrist and sucks it again.

The Novak Brennan trial resumes this morning. I haven’t asked her what she’s going to do about the photographs and the jury foreman.