‘Hello, Tina,’ he said, to the back of her head. There was a bald spot where some of her hair had never grown back.
She half turned so that her left side was facing him, but her right side remained closest to the window by which she sat.
She pointed to a single chair which would mean he couldn’t see her right side, but he knew how it looked already. He could just about see the smaller scar that reached from her cheekbone to her ear, and he knew there were two longer, thicker scars on the other side of her face where the skin had been slashed open in a cross that had cost her one eye.
Bryant felt sick just thinking about it, not because of her appearance: that brought him only sadness. His nausea came from the fact that this attack should never have been allowed to happen. Peter Drake had attacked Tina Crossley two weeks after he’d murdered Wendy Harrison.
Other injuries had dictated that she would never bear children or walk again. She’d been found, barely breathing, by a jogger trying out a new path only half a mile away from where Wendy’s body had been discovered.
Damon had been her boyfriend back then and had remained by her side. Despite his unpleasant nature, Bryant reminded himself of that fact.
‘So, you fuckers have let him out?’ Damon asked, before Bryant had chance to speak to Tina.
‘It’s not the police who are releasing him,’ Bryant said, although the man knew full well how it worked.
‘All the bloody same,’ he said, sitting opposite Tina and resting his elbows on his knees. ‘If you lot had caught him before…’
‘Stop, Damon,’ Tina said, quietly. Bryant saw him swallow his rage. He guessed that Tina had spent enough time over the years considering what might have been.
‘I just wanted to let you know that we did everything to keep him in there. Every parole hearing, every…’
‘Who’s we?’ Damon asked, knowingly.
‘People involved in the case, Richard Harrison. We all did our best to keep the bastard locked up.’
‘Well, it day do any…’
‘I still have nightmares, you know,’ Tina said, quietly. ‘I still dream about him coming to finish me off. I’d wake up screaming but then remember he was behind bars. I can’t tell myself that any more, can I?’
Bryant wished with all his heart he could say something that would take her fear away.
From what he understood Tina rarely left the house and was reliant on Damon for pretty much everything.
‘We gonna get protection?’ Damon asked.
‘It’ll be part of his conditions that he’s not allowed within…’
‘A piece of bloody paper?’ he asked, incredulously. ‘Oh yeah, I’m sure that’ll keep him away from the door. I mean police protection; physical presence.’
Bryant had known what he meant. And he could not give them the answer they wanted.
‘Any calls from this number will be treated with the utmost…’
‘Oh, fucking bollocks,’ Damon said, as Tina’s shoulders sagged slightly. ‘You do know the only time she felt safe was after her breakdown fifteen years ago? When she was behind lock and key. She hasn’t had a full night’s sleep since then.’
Bryant knew that Tina had suffered a mental breakdown and had been institutionalised for seven months. He prayed the same would not happen again. ‘I’m sorry. I wish we could have done more but…’
‘I don’t even know why you’re here,’ Damon said, shaking his head. ‘We already knew he was being let out so what exactly do you want?’
Bryant had no answer to give. He only knew that he had felt he needed to come.
Damon appeared to look at Tina for some kind of communication.
A slight nod.
‘Tina’s tired, it’s time for you to go.’
Bryant stood and followed Damon to the door. The man waited for him to cross the threshold before speaking again.