Page 22 of Little Children (Detective Kim Stone #22)

Twenty-One

‘And the piece of paper was hidden under your keyboard?’ Kim clarified. She and Bryant were sitting in a quiet corner at the back of a café, and she’d put Stacey on loudspeaker.

‘Yeah, with just three names on it.’

‘And?’ Kim asked.

‘Can’t tell you any more. I only have access to the incident log for Lewis. I don’t know who these people are.’

‘Or why their names were left on your desk and, most importantly, by who. Any guesses?’

‘The whole team was in before we were, so it could have been anyone. But DS Walsh struck up a conversation with me a little while ago.’

‘Anything interesting?’

‘Nothing yet, but we’ll see what happens later. I’m trying to get cracking on this CCTV, but I have got an address for Jasmine Swift if you want it. She’s the first name.’

‘How did you…?’

‘Still got access to the electoral register,’ Stacey said, and Kim could hear the smile in her voice.

‘Text it to Bryant, and good work,’ she said before ending the call.

‘Well, I appreciate the gesture, guv,’ Bryant said, ‘but this cuppa is doing nothing to get rid of the bad taste in my mouth.’

Yeah, she too could have done with nipping back to the hotel for a quick shower after their meeting with Roderick Skidmore.

Despite his protest that Lewis was in the wrong age bracket for his attention, she wasn’t ruling him out.

Most paedophiles had a specific age range that piqued their attention but none were averse to a couple of years either side.

Her colleague’s phone sounded the arrival of a text message.

‘Come on – let’s go see what this is about,’ she said. The more time and distance they put between themselves and Skidmore, the cleaner they’d feel.

He plugged in the postcode. ‘It’s only a couple of miles,’ he said, starting up the engine.

Maybe just long enough for Kim to work out how she was going to approach this. She had no idea if the names left on Stacey’s desk were linked to the case of missing boys or about the actions of the squad.

One thing it did prove was that a member of Red’s team wanted to share information. DCI Miranda Walker was right to be concerned.

Kim found herself thinking of some of the police misconduct cases that had made headlines.

Stephen Cloney from Merseyside had sold addresses of drug dens so his contacts could raid the properties and steal the drugs. He’d been jailed for five years.

In May 2019, PC Benjamin Kemp had been approached by a child with mental health issues.

He’d pepper-sprayed her and beat her more than thirty times with a baton.

He’d been dismissed from the force but not charged with any offence.

Unlike PC Benjamin Monk, who’d tasered Dalian Atkinson for thirty-three seconds and kicked him in the head. He’d been convicted of manslaughter.

Met police officer David Carrick had admitted forty-nine charges. Twenty-four of which were rape.

Her own force wasn’t squeaky clean. In the last nine years, over seven officers had been convicted of various offences.

Plus there was the infamous Serious Crime Squad that had operated from 1974 to 1989, when it had been disbanded following an investigation into incompetence and abuses of power.

The team had been guilty of falsifying confessions, partially suffocating suspects to get confessions, and abusing payments to informants.

More than sixty of their convictions were later quashed, including those of the Birmingham Six and the Bridgewater Four.

But that didn’t make corruption elsewhere any easier to stomach. They all had a duty to root out and put an end to any behaviour from police officers that went against the code of conduct, and she hoped the first person on the anonymous list would help them with that.

Within a few minutes, Bryant was pulling up in front of a small townhouse with an almost-new electric car on the drive.

‘How are we doing this?’ he asked as they got out of the car. ‘We don’t even know why we’re here.’

‘Minor point,’ she said, approaching the front door.

A Ring cam peered at her from the frame.

A woman answered with a single, ‘Hello,’ through the speaker. Kim had no idea if she was home or not.

‘Jasmine Swift?’ Kim asked.

‘Who are you?’ she responded without answering the question.

‘Detective Inspector Stone and Detective Sergeant Bryant from West Midlands police,’ she said, holding up her identification.

‘Hold it closer, please.’

Kim did so. If the woman was home, she was on her own.

‘What do you want?’

‘A face-to-face conversation if that’s possible.’

There was no verbal response, but she heard footsteps approaching the front door.

It opened on the chain.

‘ID again, please.’

Kim was happy to show it again. She preferred people to be cautious, and it was telling her enough to know how to start the conversation.

The woman who opened the door was in her early thirties with a mane of black silky hair tied in a ponytail.

Her attractive face was enhanced with just the right amount of make-up so that she looked like she was barely wearing any.

She wore a purple V-neck tee shirt cut high enough not to be revealing but low enough to show she didn’t mind showing off her body.

Her black jeans hugged her frame, showing shapely curves.

On her feet were oversize dinosaur-feet slippers with claws.

The woman caught Kim’s lingering gaze on the footwear.

‘Perks of working from home. Not visible on a Zoom call.’

‘Of course,’ Kim said, following her through the hallway to the only other room on the ground floor.

In other homes, it might have been a living room, but here it had been converted to an office.

A small two-seater sofa stared out at a small back garden, while a drawing board and high stool faced the wall.

A bin to the left of the drawing board had boxes leaning against it.

Everywhere she looked, clues were staring her in the face.

‘You’re an architect?’ Kim asked, taking a seat.

Jasmine Swift perched on her stool and faced their way. ‘I am indeed, but that’s not why you’re here.’

‘You work from home?’ Kim asked, fishing for another clue.

‘Sometimes, when I really don’t want the distraction of interruptions.’

Kim listened for any sense of that being a barbed comment but found nothing.

‘I’m sure you’re wondering why we’re here, Ms Swift.’

‘Jasmine, please. And yes, I’m a little curious,’ she said, bouncing a pencil off the palm of her left hand.

Kim guessed that was one of her thinking tics which she probably wasn’t aware that she was doing.

‘We’re here about your recent burglary,’ Kim said.

‘Why would that concern you?’ Jasmine asked, and Kim offered a silent thanks that she’d guessed correctly.

The Ring cam was new, as was the chain on the door.

Her appearance and demeanour were not those of someone who had been sexually assaulted.

She didn’t work from home because she was afraid to leave the house.

And the box leaning against the waste bin had probably held the new laptop she’d had to buy.

‘Have you caught them?’ she asked with faint hope.

Kim shook her head, knowing the approach she was going to take. ‘We have no involvement in the case. We’re part of a new initiative, set up since that Met report came out.’

Jasmine nodded her understanding.

Kim continued, ‘Some of us have joined together to provide some interforce quality control. We’re given a random case and sent to check that the correct procedures were followed and that everything that could be done was done professionally.’

‘Okay,’ she said a little doubtfully.

Kim smiled. ‘So if you could just talk me through your experience, that’d be great. All feedback is completely anonymous.’

‘Of course. I was out with some friends and returned home to find my door kicked in. The place was a mess, and most of my electronics had been taken, even my blender,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

‘I called the police. Two uniformed officers came first and asked a couple of questions, and then CID turned up.’

Was Kim imagining the tightness that washed over her features?

‘Go on,’ she urged.

‘They were very thorough. Asked me lots of questions.’

‘Their names?’ Kim asked.

‘DI Butler and DS Moss.’

Red and Roy appeared to be joined at the hip.

‘They got a forensics person to come, but the place was clean. Not a lot more they could do,’ she said. ‘They offered me some basic advice about security and that was that.’

Except she was no longer tapping the pencil on her palm but wringing her hands instead.

‘So, there was nothing more they could have done to help you?’ Kim asked.

‘No, no. Definitely not.’

‘And they were professional at all times?’

‘Yes. Yes. Of course.’

Kim was unsure of the relevance of the repetition in her last two responses. Who was she trying to convince and why?

Was there anything else she could ask that would explain why this name had been dropped to them?

‘Okay, Jasmine, thanks for your time,’ Kim said, standing.

A hint of indecision washed over the woman’s face. It was enough.

‘In case I wasn’t clear, anything you say is in total confidence, and your name won’t be mentioned to anyone.’

‘You’re sure?’ Jasmine asked, giving Kim reason to sit back down.

‘Is there something you’d like to share?’

‘Only if it will go no further.’

Once Kim gave her word, she wouldn’t be able to break it. She nodded.

‘It was some stuff that happened after the burglary.’

‘Like what?’

‘It started with a phone call to check on me; just to see if I was okay. I thought that was great aftercare. Then I got a text message with a link to security cameras.’

‘Still helpful,’ Kim observed.

‘With an offer to come fit them for me.’

‘Ah.’

‘It made me a bit uncomfortable, to be honest. I thanked him but said I’d made arrangements.’

‘Go on,’ Kim said. She could tell there was more.

‘There were more text messages, so my replies got shorter and shorter…but one night he just knocked the door, said he was passing and wanted to check I was okay.’

Kim felt her blood start to boil. She would bet money they were talking about the sleazebag Roy Moss. He had this type of behaviour written all over him.

‘What did you do?’

‘I told him my mum was on her way over for supper. He got the hint and left. Next night he texted and asked if I wanted to go for a drink.’

Kim’s blood was growing hotter by the second.

She’d heard of cases like this before, where police officers preyed on women they perceived to be vulnerable. Jasmine Swift appeared to be educated, professional, single and, most importantly, she was a victim of a crime.

‘And?’

She coloured. ‘I asked my brother to pretend to be my boyfriend and answer my phone the next time he called.’

‘Did it stop?’

Jasmine nodded.

Kim had just a couple more questions. ‘Why did you feel ashamed for asking your brother to step in?’

‘Well, I should have been able to handle it myself, shouldn’t I? I’ve never needed my brother to fight my battles, but I just couldn’t react the way I would if some guy was bothering me at the pub.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I wasn’t sure if I was misreading the signs. Whether he was just checking on me.’

‘He wasn’t,’ Kim said. ‘And I bet you I can find a hundred victims of crime who don’t look like you who have received no such aftercare.’

Jasmine didn’t hide her surprise at Kim’s comments.

‘Our confidentiality agreement works both ways,’ Kim said. ‘But you didn’t imagine it. His actions were inappropriate. Your instinct knew it, and you were right to ask your brother to intervene. Can I ask why you didn’t trust your gut and report him?’

‘He’s the police. What if I’d read it wrong? My complaint wouldn’t have gone anywhere, and what if I’d needed to call for help again? I don’t know how he would have handled rejection. No matter how well dressed you?—’

‘Sorry, Roy Moss?’ Kim asked, frowning at the description.

‘Oh no,’ Jasmine said, shaking her head. ‘The man that was a nuisance to me was Detective Inspector Butler.’