Page 12 of Deadly Cry
Lesley lowered her head for a moment and then lifted it. In that time Stacey could see that the mask had dropped. The Lesley who kept her emotions closely guarded and well hidden had moved aside to reveal the real Lesley hiding behind the screen.
She shook her head. ‘I’m sorry but I don’t think I can go through that again. You can’t even begin to understand.’
‘Talk to me,’ Stacey said, trying to figure out what the officers at Brierley Hill had seen to stop them putting her on the stand. How could putting Lesley before a jury have held the potential to weaken the case against Sean Fellows? Surely two victims presented a stronger case than one.
Right now, she was looking at a presentable, eloquent young woman who would have been authentic and believable in the courtroom.
‘It’s too much,’ Lesley said, shaking her head. ‘The questions, the doubt in people’s eyes when you’re telling them the most horrific thing that’s ever happened to you; the shame that it ever happened at all. I’m sorry but no, I can’t go through it again. The attack was almost two years ago. Please choose another case. I’ve managed to put it behind me. I’ve moved on with my—’
‘Well, that’s not totally true, is it?’ Stacey asked gently. ‘You have two dead bolts on your front door, a CCTV camera so you can see who is approaching. You have your meals delivered and just about everything else you buy comes from Amazon. The milkman keeps you topped up with basics, and you exercise via an internet site.’ Stacey paused. ‘So when exactly did you last leave your home?’
Lesley stared at her for a moment and then burst into tears.
Stacey wondered if the presentation of just how much her life had changed beyond normal had somehow held a mirror up to what she’d allowed her life to become. Had it been a gradual process as she’d retreated behind the safety of her front door, or had she never addressed the fear of leaving the house directly after the attack?
Stacey tried to comprehend that basic right of free movement being taken away from her.
For some reason, a memory played in her head. She remembered when she was thirteen years old and the school netball team had played another local school. Her team had won, and Stacey had netted the winning shot from her position as Goal Attack. Three girls from the other team had followed her home, chanting and calling her names. As she’d turned into her front gate, the lanky, redheaded one had told her they were going to wait until she came back out and beat her up. She remembered running upstairs and looking out the window every few minutes for the next two hours to see if they were still there. Eventually they’d grown bored and left and she’d never seen them again, but for those couple of hours she had felt helpless, scared and trapped, and yet no one had even laid a finger on her.
Stacey reached out a hand and touched the woman gently on the arm.
‘Please, Lesley, I really would like to try and help.’
Ten
‘Hey, guv, you’re not gonna question the little girl yet, are you?’ Bryant asked as he pulled up outside the narrow townhouse at the edge of Merry Hill Shopping Centre.
She’d been considering it, but the warning note in his voice convinced her otherwise.
‘Bloody hell, Bryant, what kind of monster do you think I am?’
He glanced sideways. ‘You were going to, weren’t you?’
She huffed in response as she got out the car. Sometimes he just knew her far too well.
It was almost six thirty, and the sun was setting on what had been a grey and humourless day. In the time since they’d left the squad room, Andrew Nock had called the station, identified his daughter and collected her. Jack, the desk sergeant, had overseen the collection, checked the man’s identification and, more importantly, witnessed the response of the little girl upon seeing her father. Without knowing the full details, Jack had informed the man that an officer would be along to speak with him later.
The man had left the station with no clue as to what had happened to his wife and was opening the front door before they’d reached it.
‘Have you found her?’ he asked hopefully.
Kim offered no answer to his question as she asked if they could come inside.
‘Please, come into the kitchen,’ he said quietly.
As she followed, she caught a glimpse of the little girl curled up asleep on the sofa, still clutching the teddy bear from the store.
‘Mia’s exhausted,’ he explained, pulling the door closed.
‘Oh, hello,’ Kim said to the woman, who was using kitchen towel to wipe down the work surface.
‘Ella, my sister,’ he explained. ‘I called to ask if she’d seen Kat, and she came straight over.’
Kim would not have needed the explanation of their relationship had the woman turned to face her a few seconds earlier.
The siblings had the same straw-blonde hair and square jaw. She guessed Ella to be maybe ten years older than her brother’s twenty-nine years.
‘Is Kat okay?’ Ella asked, but Kim could see in her clear blue eyes that she already knew she was not, whereas her brother’s expression was full of nervous hope.
