Authors: Danielle Ramsay
Tags: #Fiction, #Police Procedural, #General, #Hard-Boiled, #Mystery & Detective
The victim’s blog and Facebook posts had thrown Brady, as much as they had thrown the rest of the team. There were some details that even he found unpalatable. Her entries had confirmed what they had already suspected. However, no photos were posted of her ‘cyber boyfriend’ and no name was given. Instead, his unsavoury sexual antics with her were graphically and immodestly blogged. At times it was too easy to forget that victim was only fifteen.
Jenkins looked at Brady as she stepped back and sat down.
‘Thanks, Dr Jenkins,’ Brady said as he stood up and took
over. ‘All right people, we have our work cut out for us. So let’s get started.’
The room grumbled in response as people started to get ready to leave.
‘And Adamson,’ Brady said, as he turned to the DS. ‘You may have forgotten, but I haven’t. I’m still waiting for Sophie Washington’s medical records. I don’t care who you wake up to get them but I want them before the night’s out!’ Brady ordered, fuming over the stunt he had pulled requesting that he be partnered with Jenkins. Brady wasn’t sure whether Adamson thought he had a chance with Jenkins. But from what Brady knew of her, he didn’t think she’d give him the time of day.
Adamson shot him a sour look.
‘I don’t give a fuck if you don’t like it. I’m sure Sophie Washington didn’t like the fact that someone was sexually abusing her from the age of eleven and then at fifteen she ends up dead with her face smashed beyond human recognition! It’s our job to find out exactly what the hell was going on in that kid’s life which led to someone fucking her and then murdering her. Someone, can I add, who that kid knew. This was personal. Someone hated that kid so much that even when she had stopped breathing they couldn’t let go of the loathing they felt towards her. Were they connected to the sexual abuse that started when the victim was ten or eleven, who knows? Had she threatened to betray them and so they tried to silence her, again who knows? But it’s our job to bloody find out. And if that means searching her medical records for some kind of clue as to what was happening to her then that’s what we do.’
Brady suddenly caught Gates’ eyes and wondered exactly how long he had been standing there.
‘Can I have a word, Jack?’
Heads turned and looked at Gates.
Brady shot Conrad a questioning look. But Conrad seemed as unsure about Gates’ sudden interruption as Brady.
‘Now!’ Gates ordered as he walked out, slamming the door shut.
Brady couldn’t help but notice DS Adamson’s self-satisfied smile. He clenched his fists in an attempt to resist the urge to wipe it off his face.
‘What do you know about this?’ Gates irritably demanded as he thrust a sheet of paper at Brady.
Brady quickly realised that it was the murder victim’s toxicological report.
‘I haven’t had the opportunity to see it yet, sir,’ Brady answered.
‘Well here’s your chance.’
Brady picked it up and quickly scanned through the information. He abruptly stopped.
The alcohol concentration in her blood sample was 3.9 grammes per litre, which meant she had been heavily intoxicated.
He read on. Traces of cannabis had also been detected.
Brady inwardly sighed. It was exactly as he had expected.
‘What other unpleasant surprises are waiting to jump out?’ Gates questioned angrily.
He stared at Brady as he waited for an answer.
It was a cold hard look. One that told Brady that Gates knew something.
‘She was definitely with DI Matthews’ daughter last night?’
‘Yes sir,’ Brady answered, realising that too many people were holding back on what they knew about the murder victim’s lifestyle; Evie Matthews included.
‘Then surely she must have had some idea about this?’ Gates said, snatching back the toxicological report.
‘Apparently not, sir. But I am due to re-interview her later,’ answered Brady.
‘And you don’t think it’s odd that DI Matthews didn’t recognise the victim, given it was his daughter’s friend?’ Gates asked sceptically.
‘I don’t know, sir,’ Brady slowly answered. ‘You’d have to ask Matthews that question.’
‘I wish I could but as I’m sure you’re well aware, Matthews seems to have disappeared. And I think you know as well as I do the reason why. He recognised the body and kept the information to himself.’
Brady shifted uncomfortably under Gates’ gaze.
‘And what do you know about this?’ Gates suddenly questioned as he held up
The Evening Chronicle.
Brady shrugged, confused.
‘It’s about DI Matthews being suspended from the investigation. What I want to know is how this Harriet Jacobs woman got hold of that kind of information?’
‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘Well, you should bloody know! This is your investigation. If someone’s talking, it’s your job to shut them up!’
Brady didn’t respond.
‘I’m warning you, Jack, don’t make a fool of me!’
‘No sir.’
‘Is there anything else you want to tell me?’ Gates asked as he scrutinised Brady.
Brady didn’t answer. He couldn’t without jeopardising his job.
‘Have it your way for now,’ Gates dispassionately replied. ‘But if I find out you’ve been holding back on me, you’ll live to regret it.’
‘Yes sir,’ answered Brady awkwardly.
‘It’s bad enough we’ve got a murdered fifteen-year-old girl. Let alone the implication that one of our own is involved. Sort it! And sort it fast! Before I’m forced to put an arrest warrant out for Matthews!’
Brady went back to his office to collect his coat.
He soon wished he hadn’t when the phone rang.
‘Yeah Charlie?’
‘Better warn you, bonny lad, Harriet Jacobs from
The Evening Chronicle
has been doing a bit of digging and she’s found out that Sophie Washington belonged to Facebook as well as some blogging site. Seems that she’s got some unauthorised information on the victim from these sites that she’s threatening to publish.’
‘Shit!’ Brady muttered as he logged onto his laptop. ‘How the hell has she managed to get access to the victim’s sites when we’re meant to have removed them?’
‘I don’t know, Jack. But she did and she’s wanting to publish it.’
He should have expected it. The scavenging rats had grown tired of the scraps thrown to them by the Press Office. Now they were starting to do their own kind of dirty detective work on the victim. Digital door-stepping showed just how low journalists would scrape for a scoop. Refused sordid information from the grieving victim’s family or the police, journalists would take whatever material existed on the Web about the victim, regardless of the impact.
‘It gets worse, Jack. This Jacobs woman is requesting an interview with you. If you don’t then she’s going to publish the girl’s blog entries and some of those photos.’
Brady knew exactly which photos Turner was talking about. He sighed heavily. Harriet Jacobs was the same journalist who had shouted out questions at him about Matthews at the crime scene. She was also responsible for
The Evening Chronicle
‘s front-page story suggesting DI Matthews’ suspension somehow implicated him in the murder.
There was a knock at the door.
‘Thanks for letting me know,’ Brady said before putting the phone down.
He looked up to see Conrad walk in.
‘I found nothing on the CCTV footage that’s unusual, sir,’ Conrad informed him.
‘Go on,’ Brady instructed.
‘Well, you can see a young woman walking along the bottom road by Wellfield at roughly the time that the victim left Evie Matthews’ house. From what I can make out it’s her. She’s wearing similar clothes, hairstyle etc. She’s definitely alone and no one seems to be following her. But she does use her phone to call someone.’
‘Thanks, Conrad,’ Brady replied, not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed.
Brady glanced down at his desk and suddenly remembered what had so riled him before Conrad had walked in.
‘Maybe you can tell me what that bloody woman wants?’ he asked looking up at Conrad.
‘What woman?’ Conrad asked, at a loss.
‘The one who’s intent on losing me my job!’
Conrad still looked puzzled.
Brady had to admit his description didn’t exactly narrow it down; he’d pissed off quite a few people in his time.
‘Some bloody journalist by the name of Harriet Jacobs.’
Conrad shook his head.
‘Never heard of her, sir.’
‘Works for
The Evening Chronicle.
Wrote that damned front-page story on Matthews being suspended from this murder investigation. What I want to know is who talked to her?’
Conrad looked uncomfortable.
‘Do you know something?’
‘No, just a suspicion,’ Conrad answered.
Brady didn’t have to ask, he already had his own reservations about Adamson.
‘Do me a favour, Conrad, and talk to her will you? Find out exactly what she knows and who’s feeding her this crap?’
‘Yes sir,’ answered Conrad, still at a loss as to why Brady was so uptight.
‘The bugger’s trying to blackmail me into talking to her,’ Brady explained. ‘But I reckon she’ll be more than satisfied when you turn up. Especially after that press conference you did with Gates this afternoon,’ Brady added, with a laconic smile.
Since the press conference, Conrad had been getting ribbed by everyone about his TV performance. But Brady had to admit Conrad had looked the part.
‘I don’t understand. What’s she got over you?’
‘This,’ Brady said as he turned his laptop towards Conrad. ‘She wants to publish everything, including the photos. Unless I talk to her.’
‘I thought Jed had removed her Facebook page and blog?’ Conrad asked, surprised.
‘So did I,’ said Brady.
He watched as Conrad scrolled down Sophie Washington’s blog entries and photos.
Even Conrad seemed as surprised as Brady by the number of tributes posted on the victim’s wall and on her blog. It seemed that bad news travelled fast in the cyberworld. Sophie Washington was now being hailed as a tragic heroine whose short life had been romanticised into something it wasn’t. Brady had gleaned enough unpalatable facts about her life to know the picture these people were painting couldn’t have been further from the truth. But she had nearly a thousand tributes posted on her wall. Brady doubted that most of these people even knew her. But he recognised that Jenkins was right; they’d have to look at every single one of them.
When Conrad had finished reading he looked the way Brady felt.
Brady shook his head.
‘Why is nothing ever straightforward?’ he asked as he stared at a photograph of the victim brazenly downing shots in one of Whitley Bay’s nefarious bars.
The pub was easy to recognise; he’d been in it enough times himself, arresting underage drinkers. But what Brady hadn’t banked on was seeing a photo of Jimmy Matthews’ daughter with the victim, knocking back shots in the same damned bar. Worse than that, Evie Matthews had recently posted it as a tribute to her deceased best friend, Sophie Washington.
Brady had asked Conrad to get the car ready while he made a quick call.
He needed to talk to Jed, their forensic computer analyst. They only had one full-time computer geek. Money was short and Gates was tight which meant that Jed was always up to his knees in work.
Brady listened, unimpressed as Jed tried to bullshit him again with computer jargon.
‘I don’t give a shit about any of that! I want it taken off the net, regardless. I don’t give a damn if the blog’s on American Bloggers! I want it removed!’ Brady insisted. ‘I mean it, Jed, our jobs are on the line here. If any of this stuff gets published it’s not only me who’ll be answering to Gates. You know that don’t you? So tell me why the hell it’s taken so long to remove it?’ he demanded.
‘What do you mean it’s not that easy?’ Brady incredulously asked.
He sighed as Jed started again.
‘Fuck civil liberties and privacy rights and all that crap!’ Brady interrupted, losing his temper. ‘This is a fifteen-year-old girl we’re talking about here. What about her civil liberties and right to privacy now, huh? For fuck’s sake! What about her family’s rights in all of this?’
Brady took a deep breath as Jed kicked off. Brady knew he was one of the best forensic computer analysts around, but he was a pedant when it came to sticking to the rules.
‘Damn it, Jed! Half the shit she posted on her blog is bloody illegal anyway! She was just a kid! And believe me, if those photographs of her getting off her face, never mind the bloody half-naked ones aren’t removed from that site immediately then some bloody unscrupulous paper’s going to have them covering their front page tomorrow. Not to mention Jimmy Matthews’ kid!’
He rubbed his forehead as he listened to Jed’s ever patient voice. Jed often got it in the neck; hazards of the job, Brady presumed. There was a whole cyberworld out there that facilitated the sick and twisted in every imaginable way. It was Jed’s impossible job to nail them with whatever illicit and unsavoury material was stored on their hard drives.
‘What about the victim’s computer and her step-dad’s? Found anything yet?’ Brady asked in vain, hoping for some good news.
‘Yeah, I know you’re backed up,’ he replied, wearily. ‘I wouldn’t ask this of you if it wasn’t important. It’s just that I’m waiting to see if anything shows up on Paul Simmons’ computer. I’ve got a feeling about that guy if you get my drift?’
Brady nodded.
‘Yeah, I know it’s a Friday night. And yeah, I do appreciate it.’
He wasn’t angry with Jed. He was angry at the immorality of it all. The fact that depraved journalists could make money out of someone else’s misery was beyond him. Especially when it involved a fifteen-year-old murdered girl.
Brady grabbed his jacket and limped towards the door, reluctantly accepting that the worst was yet to come.
‘Pull in here,’ Brady demanded suddenly.
‘What about Matthews’ daughter?’ Conrad questioned.
‘There’s something I need to do first.’