‘Perhaps I did, but not in the way you mean.’
‘What do you think I mean?’
‘Ellen says I molested Becky, doesn’t she?’
Macpherson stood up, fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He lit one, blowing the smoke in Reed’s direction.
‘I just want your side of the story, Mr Reed’ the DI said.
Again a heavy silence descended, broken this time by Macpherson.
‘You took your daughter swimming at the weekend, didn’t you?’ he said. ‘Did you dry her off when she’d left the pool?’
‘Of course not, she was in the changing rooms’ Reed said, irritably.
‘So, you couldn’t be sure if she was dry. If she’d dried herself properly?’
Reed gazed blankly at the DI.
‘If you couldn’t be sure, then why did you find it so necessary to be sure after she got out of the bath?’ Macpherson asked, quietly.
‘This is ridiculous,’ Reed said, his voice low. He swallowed hard.
‘If it’s so ridiculous, Mr Reed, then you’ve got nothing to worry about’ the DI told him.
‘I’m not worried, I’m angry’ Reed snapped. ‘Has Ellen actually pressed charges?’
Macpherson shook his head.
‘Not yet’ he said, flatly.
‘Then you have no reason to hold me here.’
‘We thought you should have the right to give your-‘
‘Side of the story, yes I know, you already told me that’ Reed interrupted.
‘Look, I can understand your feelings, Mr Reed.’
‘Can you? Have you got kids?’
Macpherson shook his head.
‘Then don’t tell me you understand. If you had kids you’d know I was telling the truth’ Reed said.
The DI shrugged.
‘I should warn you, Mr Reed, that charges will probably be made within the next day or two. You’re not planning on going anywhere, are you?’ the policeman wanted to know.
‘Why should I? I’ve got nothing to hide.’
Reed got to his feet. ‘Does this mean I can go?’ he said, challengingly.
Macpherson nodded.
‘I should be sueing you for wrongful arrest,’ Reed barked.
‘You weren’t arrested, you came here voluntarily’ the DI reminded him. He held Reed in that unflinching gaze once more. ‘Next time, it might be different.’
Seventy-one
Talbot pressed himself up against the metal shelves, using them, as best he could, for cover.
He held the screwdriver in one hand, ready to use it as a weapon if necessary.
The figure was less than fifteen feet from him now, moving slowly, staying in the shadows.
Talbot ducked down and scuttled towards it, using the shelves to cover his approach, knowing the thick dust would muffle his footsteps. Dust disturbed by his feet clogged in his throat and nostrils, and it was all he could do to prevent himself coughing but he held his breath, emerging through a gap in the high shelves.
The figure was ahead of him now, close to the office door.
The DI squinted in the direction of the intruder.
Whoever it was obviously hadn’t heard him.
He began walking towards the figure, his hand now gripping the handle of the screwdriver so tight his knuckles were white.
He was ten feet away.
The figure was leaning close to the door, inspecting the damage.
Six feet.
Talbot tried to hold his breath, his heart thudding harder against his ribs.
Two feet.
The figure straightened up.
Talbot raised the screwdriver.
The figure turned.
Talbot shot out a hand, grabbed for the intruder’s throat.
The scream which filled the warehouse was deafening, amplified by the cavernous structure.
Talbot took a step back. Catherine Reed swallowed hard and glared at him with bulging eyes.
‘What the fuck are you doing here?’ Talbot rasped. She looked at the screwdriver which he still held poised in his fist.
‘Are you going to put that down?’ she said, nodding towards the sharp implement.
He lowered his arm.
‘I asked you what you were doing here,’ the policeman continued.
‘I followed you,’ she told him.
‘I could arrest you for interfering with police business.’
‘Why not just stab me with the bloody screwdriver, as you were going to,’ Cath said her heart hammering hard against her ribs.
‘This is private land. You shouldn’t be here.’
‘This is news, Talbot, I’m doing my job.’ She looked at the loosened handle on the office door. ‘I see you’ve been busy too. Have you found anything yet?’
‘What’s it got to do with you?’ he snapped, pushing past her.
Cath regarded him wearily as he stood by the door. ‘You believe what Maria Goldman said don’t you?’
‘About those kids being ritually abused?’ He shook his head.
‘Then why are you here? It’s because of what those kids drew, isn’t it? You think this is where the abuse happened.’
‘We’re exploring every possibility’ Talbot said without looking at her.
‘Why are you so resistant to the facts, Talbot?’ Cath said angrily, watching as the DI set about loosening the last screw on the door handle.
‘What facts?’ he said, straining to release it, the veins at his temple standing out with the effort.
‘The children’s statements.’
‘The mentions of the Devil? Give me a break.’ The screw was coming free.
They both looked round as they heard the main door opening.
‘Jim.’
Talbot recognised Rafferty’s voice.
‘Down here,’ he called and the DS hurried to join his companion, slowing his pace when he saw Cath standing there.
‘I heard a scream,’ Rafferty said.
‘It was her,’ the DI told him. ‘Sticking her nose in where it’s not wanted again. She nearly got hurt.’
The screw was almost out.
‘Did you find anything?’ the DI enquired.
‘Not a thing.’
‘Well, somebody’s been in here, and recently,’ Talbot told his colleague.
The screw came away, the door creaked open an inch or two.
‘What do you think about what you heard from Social Services?’ Cath asked Rafferty. ‘Do you believe there’s ritual abuse going on?’
