CHAPTER 67
The evening news became a fixed routine for us over the next weeks, but there were few updates. What they revealed, though, left several of my girls shaking. I wouldn’t stop them watching the reports, but I made sure I was on hand if they needed me.

In simple terms, the gang would meet up near somewhere like the Smugglers, watch for a likely target, then jump him in as violent a way as possible and drag him into a van.

They would then drive somewhere else, have their fun, and dump the victim somewhere rural. One had been left naked and with a fractured skull near Cowbridge, and when the police had finally arrested them, there had been another victim in the back of the van, part way through being tenderised for their fucking delectation and delight.

Charlie and Tiff made another couple of recordings of the reports, and the former’s refrain of “Wonky eyed CUNT!” became very familiar in the House. It disappeared from the news after a while, no updates coming out, and I noticed the two girls fretting. Neither had managed more than that single trip outside the house, and while Tiff was usually in a dress borrowed from one or other of my charges, Charlie seemed to live in her night wear. I wondered if it was an excuse not to go out, a shield against the temptation. Their eyes so often followed my schoolgirls around, their envy clear. Just to be normal, another girl with too many books to carry.

“It can take a while, Charlie. Lots of cases, they said”

“At least a dozen, then there’s us, and…”

She started to shake, so of course I went for the hug, Tiff settling against my other side. I thought of her first minutes in the house. Is it safe here? Is it REALLY safe?

“You are scared, love, aren’t you?”

Both nodded, and I squeezed their shoulders as we sat together on the settee.

“Tell you what, girls. How about we see how this load goes first? Been charged, so there should be a trial. Nothing to stop another one if they get convicted”

I sat up a little bit as the doorbell rang.

“Tell you what, loves: no decision just yet, okay? See how it goes for the charges they’ve got now, and then we talk about what you want to do? Now, going to see who that is. Not expecting anyone”

I went into the hallway, making sure the chain was on before I cracked the door. There was a solid-looking woman outside, looking about thirty years old, collar-length dark hair, and in a trouser suit with flat shoes. She absolutely screamed ‘copper’ at me.

“Hello. How can I help you?”

“Could I speak to Deb, please?”

She had a local accent, and my impression seemed spot on. What did a strange copper, in civvies, want with the House?

“Who wants her?”

“Diane Owens”

“Hang on”

I shut the door in her face, heading into the living room.

“Girls, got someone from the Filth at the door. Going to go and have a word. If I don’t call in fifteen minutes, Paul’s number is by the phone in that book”

I went out the back way, making sure that I locked both doors properly as I went, and walked round to find the copperette waiting by the door.

“You Diane Owens, then?”

“Yes”

“Got some ID?”

She brought out exactly what I had expected, a warrant card listing her as a Detective Constable. Suit. DC. Fucking CID.

“Seems OK. What do you want?”

She twitched a little at that, then tried to smile at me.

“Could we have a talk?”

I left it long enough to unsettle the bitch, then shrugged.

“Café down the road. You can buy me a cuppa”

I turned to walk away, dropping the obvious hint that she could either follow or fuck off, and she chose the former. She actually did buy me a cuppa, and as she spotted a table, I whispered to Kim to ring home and reassure the girls. Copper in suit, not uniforms mob-handed in a van. I sat down with her, sorted out my milk, and stared hard at her.

“So what do you want?”

She looked at me with a hint of exasperation, and I gave myself a mental pat on the back. Rattled coppers were the best sort. Her mouth twisted a little as she replied.

“Well, for starters, I would quite like to know why you have so much hostility towards me, but I don’t want to waste your time. OK? So I will simply tell you why I am here”

Fuck that for a start.

“No. You are CID. I can tell. I want to know which of my girls you are after”

“Why would I be after anyone?”

Make her sweat a little more. Drink your tea, Debbie Petrie, and make her wait.

“Because we have a beat officer, Paul Welby. He’s our lad, we know him. You are CID. Your lot chase people”

“I am chasing nobody. Well, I am…”

Coppers; can’t keep a lie going.

“Knew it!”

“Not your people, OK? Look, here are my cards on the table. I am with, or I was with the Serious Crimes Unit—no! Let me finish. Please sit down!”

Serious Crimes whatever? Sod that! I stood straight up, ready to walk out, but there was something about that phrase that niggled at me. She had her hands up in apology, and I caught a little twitch, a change in expression, that sparked my curiosity. She was almost pleading at that point.

“Look, that is not why I am here. I was working with them, CID, on a big case, and that’s taken a new direction. I can’t stay with it, because I have an involvement in it that means I have to step away. I’ve been given a job that sort of stems from the case we’ve just finished. It is not chasing someone, it is an offer of help”

Gushing. Needy. What did she want?

“Talk to me, then, but make it quick”

She let a deep breath out rather sharply, and sagged in her seat.

“I am here to speak to LGBT people about issues they have, so that they have a face, a name to come to, a dedicated officer”

“We have Paul”

“Yeah, but this ties in with the case we have just tied up. There were a lot of victims, and we believe there may be quite a few more, people too frightened, or who don’t trust us, to come forward”

I thought of Charlie’s terror, and shrugged.

“Not bloody surprising, is it? Money bloody well talks, and your lot have always followed the money and the bloody tabloids”

Another deep breath, as she was clearly working hard to keep some serious emotion hidden.

“Not this time. Evans, Evans, Evans, Pritchard and Hansen”

Oh god. I settled back down into my seat, realising I needed to hear her out.

“You are talking about the beatings? The gaybashing?”

“And the rapes. I was one of the arresting officers”

I was so utterly wrong about her, and I felt my self-control slip for a second.

“I hope you beat the living shit out of them!”

The smile that comment brought changed her face completely, and brought her teeth into full view, certainly not as part of any form of smile I wanted to see.

“The minimum of reasonable and absolutely necessary force may have been employed in their arrests”

Fuck! So, so wrong. I laughed, almost feeling I might like her, until I caught her staring at my hands. That stare was so obviously a ‘gotcha’ about my history I nearly got up and left. Shit; I was starting to understand how stressed I was myself. I almost snapped at her.

“So? One word about trannies or drag queens and I am gone”

“You pass well”

Points lost for fucking tact, or lack of it, DC Owens.

“And that is meant to make a bloody difference? Why the hell should it?”

She shrugged.

“Doesn’t for me. Back to business. We suspect there are other victims, as I said, and we want them to see that they can have justice, just like any other man or woman”

There was definitely something lurking behind her words, something unpleasant. I began to wonder what else Charlie and Tiff’s gentlemen friends might have been up to; I really needed to wind my neck in and bloody well listen, just until I could see where this meeting was headed.

“We show them they are worth just as much as anyone else, that’s what”

I replayed that in my memory a couple of times, and my heart was telling me that, just this once, the words were meant.

“You really do believe that, don’t you?”

She looked down at her cup, where her knuckles showed a little whiter on the handle.

“I have my reasons, very good ones”

Click; the pieces suddenly fell into place, and I tried to keep my voice level as I asked the next question.

“Who are you after?”

“I told you, I’m not after anyone”

“Liar. It’s not one of my girls, I know that now. You’re after somebody related to…”

Oh hell. I looked hard at her, seeing what lay behind her ‘copper’ face, and saw need, as well as a depth of hatred I could fully appreciate. I wondered how much of that loathing was directed at herself.

“You are after that cunt of a councillor! Sorry, I don’t normally use that word, but, well, in his case I can’t think of another that fits better. That’s two of his little tribe you’ve got banged away, including one of the reasons I have difficulties trusting you lot”

The implication hit me as I spoke.

“Bloody hell. You said you have to step away? And you haven’t admitted it, but you are looking to lock up Ashley Arsehole Evans, so that means… Shit. Shit with sugar on it”

Bastard. Utter bastard. I softened my tone as much as I could, before I asked the single question that would confirm everything.

“How old were you?”

She shook her head sadly, looking past me and out of the café’s front window. A short pause as she made her mind up, then another slow, slow exhalation, as she clearly fought for control.

“Sixteen, Deb”

I couldn’t help it, and that word burst from me again, my decision made.

“Cunt, Sorry, but if you can find me a better word, I’ll gladly use it. Drink up. I have someone you need to meet”

Ashley Evans. She was after Ashley fucking Evans, and if that was on the menu then I knew two girls who deserved a chance to share the fun.