Page 19 of The Scene of the Crime (Jessica Russell #1)

‘Seems to me he relies on you a lot as his deputy,’ Jessica said. She took a sip of her coffee. ‘How long have you been in the job then?’

‘Coming up for eighteen years, and a DI for five now,’ he said.

‘Are you thinking about promotion?’

‘No, I’m happy as I am . . . actually, that’s bullshit. Truth is, I’m crap on interviews and failed the DCI promotion board,’ he said, stirring his coffee.

‘You seem like a confident person to me.’

‘I am, but I tend to speak my mind about the lack of experience in the current crop of officers and where the police service is going, which is in the wrong direction.’

‘Why do you think that?’

‘You can join as a direct entry detective and be on a murder squad in two to three years. Nearly half of our team has less than five years, CID experience. Meanwhile, experienced officers become disillusioned with the job and resign or retire earlier than planned.’

She nodded thoughtfully. ‘How long has Anderson been in the force?’

‘He joined in his early thirties and was selected for the fast-track system. He was promoted to inspector after three years, then chief inspector a few years later. He then transferred into CID, did a year on division and then got the SIO role on the homicide team.’

‘His age made me think he had longer service.’

‘You’re not the first to say that. The point is we now have inexperienced officers leading other inexperienced officers while dealing with serious and complex criminal investigations, which isn’t right.’

‘The situation in Kent is the same, though there are some outstanding junior officers.’

‘Same in the Met, but they’re few and far between.

Others lack motivation as they don’t see the police as a lifelong career and fiddle about on their phones all day instead of doing what they get paid for.

The standard of crime investigation is appalling, the backlog is ridiculous and criminals are getting away scot-free.

Things need to change quickly because the public deserves better. ’

‘I must admit, I was only a crime scene manager for a couple of years before I got the MSCAN job,’ Jessica said.

‘I wasn’t having a dig at you,’ he said quickly. ‘From what I saw today, you’re bloody good at your job.’

She smiled. ‘Thank you.’

‘To be honest, I was sceptical about the whole MSCAN idea when Anderson told me about it. I’ve worked on cases where behavioural advisers were used.

For me, much of what they concluded was either common sense or guesswork.

They didn’t tell us anything we didn’t already know, and their advice often actually hindered the investigation. ’

‘I don’t entirely disagree with you,’ she said. ‘I was the crime scene manager on a murder investigation where a behavioural adviser got it very wrong. His analysis initially caused more harm than good.’

‘Seeing your work today and listening to what you said, your approach seems more sensible.’

‘When I became a SOCO, I learned to combine my knowledge of human behaviour with crime scene investigation, so I tend to look at things differently.’

‘But you do sort of become the offender and try to think like them?’

‘Yes, you could say that.’ They drank their coffee in silence for a moment.

‘I don’t mean to pry, but how long have you been meditating?’

She hesitated. Part of her wanted to tell him to mind his own business, but then she relented. She shrugged. ‘Long time, about eleven or twelve years now.’

‘What made you take it up?’

‘It was something I just thought I’d try. I liked it, so I stuck with it. Can we change the subject, please?’

‘Sorry. Have I upset you?’ he asked.

She took a deep breath and exhaled before answering. ‘No, it’s just that it’s personal.’

He nodded as if he understood, and Jessica thought the subject was closed, but then he continued. ‘I didn’t want to say anything before, but I was worried you might remember me and it would distress you.’

‘What on earth are you talking about?’

‘I know you were sexually assaulted when you were a probation officer. I thought . . .’

Jessica’s heart started racing and she could feel her colour rising.

‘Fucking Anderson told you, didn’t he! He had no right to.

What I said in my interview was confidential.

’ She stood up and grabbed her bag. ‘I’m going to report this to Commander Williams. You have no idea how terrified I was that night or how it affected me.

If you and Anderson think it’s something to gossip about, you’re both sick in the head! ’

Chapman took a step back. She was so angry he thought she might attack him, but she started to walk off. ‘Jessica, please wait. I swear, Anderson never told me.’

She spun round to face him. ‘Of course he did. I’m not stupid!’

‘I’m sorry, but I didn’t say anything until now because I thought it best not to.’

‘It’s a bit late for apologies.’

‘I was worried you might remember me, and it would lead to flashbacks and cause you distress.’

She stared at him. ‘Why on earth would I remember you?’

‘I was the duty detective the night you were assaulted and one of the first officers on the scene at your flat.’

‘What? I don’t believe this . . .’

‘You told me your assailant put his hand over your mouth and said to keep quiet. You fought him and bit him, then screamed for help, and he ran off.’

‘Oh my God.’ Jessica groaned as her mind flashed back to that awful night.

‘A female officer attended and took you to the comfort suite.’ Chapman was referring to the dedicated room where victims of rape and serious sexual assault can talk to police in privacy and safety.

She had to take several deep breaths to calm herself. ‘Her name was Paula,’ Jessica said softly, remembering how the officer held her hand and comforted her while the doctor performed a physical examination.

‘And she took your statement. She told me how brave you were.’

Jessica stared at Chapman. Everything he said was right, but she still wondered if he was lying. ‘I have no recollection of you being at my flat,’ she said.

‘I was only there briefly. You were very distressed, which may be why you don’t remember me.

You told me the person who attacked you was wearing a balaclava, but from the sound of his voice and the smell of his body odour, you suspected it was a fifteen-year-old on probation and under your supervision at the time.

I went to his flat that night and arrested him. ’

She pursed her lips, and the anger returned. ‘You could have got all this information from the old crime report. Why are you snooping into my private life?’

‘I swear, I’m not. I was on night shift, so I had to hand the case over to DS Michael Blake in the morning and had no further involvement.’

Jessica remembered Blake. ‘He was very understanding. Very kind.’

‘He wanted to charge the boy with attempted rape, but the CPS decided there wasn’t enough evidence, forensic or otherwise, to provide a “realistic prospect of conviction”.’

‘That was because his mother gave him a false alibi, saying he’d been in all night.’

‘I know, I spoke to her when I arrested him. Unfortunately, I didn’t find the balaclava which he probably threw away.’

‘If you must know, as silly as it sounds, in some ways I was relieved. It meant I didn’t have to go through the ordeal again in court.’

Chapman typed something into his desktop computer and turned the screen towards her.

‘That’s his criminal record. As you can see, it’s as long as my arm.

’ He scrolled back. ‘There’s his arrest for the attempted rape.

As the victim of a sexual assault, your name is redacted, and as you can see, I’m shown as the arresting officer. ’

Jessica sat down. ‘All right, I believe you. But why did you wait until now to tell me?’

He looked sad. ‘I was the investigating officer on a horrendous rape case about ten years ago. Recounting the details in court was traumatic for the victim, but we got a conviction. The thing is, once a trial like that is over, the victim tries to move on, and you have no further contact with them. Four years later, I bumped into her in the street. On seeing me, she had a flashback to the rape and suffered a severe panic attack. It was so bad I had to call an ambulance. I blamed myself and wanted to go to the hospital to see how she was, but I was advised not to as it could further distress her if she saw me again.’

‘And you thought the same would happen to me if I recognised you?’ She sounded affronted.

He nodded. ‘I realise now that I should have kept my mouth shut.’

She sat up straight and gave a nonchalant shrug, trying her hardest to maintain control of her emotions, determined not to show him the effect of what he had just told her.

‘If you must know, even if I had recognised you, it wouldn’t have upset me.

Admittedly, after the little bastard tried to rape me, I suffered from post-traumatic stress and left my job as a probation officer.

At the time, I didn’t know how to handle it.

But on my doctor’s advice, I started seeing a rape counsellor, who suggested I also take up meditation and yoga. ’

‘Meditation sounds like something I should try,’ Chapman said, trying to lighten the situation.

‘It wasn’t an overnight cure, if that’s what you’re thinking,’ she said.

‘Initially, I moved back home to live with my mother and brother. I was off sick from my probation work for a long time and dreaded returning. When I was able to deal with my emotions again, I decided to seek a different career path. I thought long and hard about joining the police, but at the time, I worried front-line work – interviewing victims and arresting suspects – would be too stressful after what happened to me. My mother suggested I become a scene of crime officer. The rest, as they say, is history.’

He smiled. ‘I’m glad you conquered your demons, and you should be proud of all you’ve achieved.’ He had his over-serious expression on his face, and it made her smile.

‘Thank you for that and I am proud of getting over it. I only wish my mother was still alive to share my success. Sadly, she died a few years ago from cancer.’

‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ Chapman looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly time for the meeting, but I can postpone it until tomorrow morning if that would be better for you.’

‘For goodness’ sake, I can assure you I’m fine.’

‘I’m sorry if I brought back some bad memories. That wasn’t my intention.’

‘I realise that now, and thank you for being open and honest with me.’

‘It would have been better if I’d said nothing,’ Chapman sighed.

‘What’s done is done, and it’s time to move on. It’s over, finished with, so let’s keep it that way.’