Page 98 of Twisted Lies
‘Excuse me?’ Kim asked. It was a pretty basic request.
‘No presence on social media, Mrs Lennox still isn’t playing ball, and even the school website doesn’t include photos.’
‘Jesus Christ,’ she growled. She turned to Bryant. ‘You got the best look at him. Give the local teams a description.’
‘Will do but my description is gonna fit just about any guy with a beard, as well as a couple of women I know, but I’m happy to do it,’ he said, picking up the phone.
Kim turned back to Stacey. ‘Okay, get on to the phone records of all our victims. Did any of them know each other or is there any number that made contact with them all? One of you stay on top of the techies about Jacob Powell’s computer. I know it’s a long—’
Kim stopped speaking as Leanne appeared at the door.
‘Thanks for joining us,’ Kim said impatiently. She was either here to help or not, but to keep coming and going was helping no one.
‘Listen, if you’re not gonna get here at the right—’
‘What the fuck is that?’ Leanne asked, staring at the whiteboard.
Kim followed her gaze. ‘Our fourth victim, found late last night.’
‘Is she dead?’ Leanne asked, turning towards her. Kim was shocked to see the colour had drained from her face.
Kim nodded as Leanne reached for the edge of the desk.
‘You know her?’ Kim asked.
‘Of course I fucking know her. She’s a protection officer, just like me.’
Eighty-Five
‘We met around ten years ago in training. Her name is Sarah Lessiter. She was a couple of years younger than me and didn’t handle certain aspects of the training programme all that well.’
‘Go on,’ Kim said as she heard Stacey start to tap lightly in the background. Now they had a name, they would very soon have an address.
‘At first, you’re given all the training on systems, the protocols, the reasons, the legalities. It’s classroom based and you absorb every bit of information. You’re taught memory exercises so that you don’t have to write anything down. You role-play scenarios of different situations. You’re taught physical moves and holds beyond the normal police force criteria. They do all kinds of psychometric tests on you, to see if you have the right temperament for the job. The first part is all about the process, about what might happen, preparing you for eventualities and emergencies, explaining the secrets you have to keep from family and friends. You can’t tell a soul who you’re protecting.’
‘Go on,’ Kim urged. It was the longest she’d heard Leanne speak. Perhaps they might finally learn something.
‘Over the course of the training, recruits fall away. I started in a group of fifteen and by the final test there were four of us left. Sarah was one of the four, and it was the final exercise she struggled with.’
‘Which was?’ Kim asked.
‘Empathy test. Without warning, you’re put into a car and taken to an unknown place, a town maybe fifty miles or so away. No one speaks or explains properly what’s going on. You’re taken to a room and left for hours. Then they take your phone, smash it and tell you that you can contact no one.’
‘But it’s not real.’
‘It bloody well feels it. You’re then taken to a bed and breakfast and left there. You can’t contact anyone, and you can’t tell anyone who you are. Instant fail. By day three, I was really starting to panic about my mum worrying. An elderly lady started talking to me at breakfast one morning, and I was too nervous to speak to her in case she was a plant and I failed. It doesn’t take long for the paranoia to set in. I found out later that she was nothing to do with the training, but the man sitting behind me, eating his scrambled eggs, was listening to every word. After six days, I was pulled out, given a new phone and taken back to my home. On the way, it was explained to me that no one would like me very much if I chose to do this job.’
‘And that didn’t faze you?’ Kim asked.
Leanne shook her head. ‘I’m not all that likeable anyway, so it was no great shakes.’
Kim hid her smile of amusement. She liked people who were self-aware.
‘My trainer explained that in the eyes of criminals, we’re the people who look after the grasses. To other police officers, we’re nothing more than babysitters, and to the witness themselves we become the only remaining symbol of a system that upended their lives. Everyone else fades out of the picture, leaving only the protection officer. As their frustration grows and their full understanding of their new situation becomes real, there’s only us left in the picture, and there’s still a lot to do.’
‘Like what?’ Kim asked on behalf of everyone else that was listening to every word.
Leanne took a deep breath. ‘It’s not just the physical aspect of keeping them safe. There are many red flags that alert people that someone is in the programme. Not so important for folks who aren’t interested but dead giveaways to people who are looking.’
