“Now, girls. It’s getting dark and there’s no reason for you to be hanging around here.”
Charlie had a sudden flash forward to what Jessie would be like when she was a teenager. Would Charlie have any credibility in her eyes as a successful career woman and authority figure? Or would having a policewoman for a mother be the ultimate disaster, a kind of social death that kept friends and boyfriends at a remove? Charlie was surprised to find that she was suddenly worried about this and chided herself for being foolish. There were bigger fish to fry right now.
“Girls, I’m going to ask you for the last time to move on. I’m happy to drop you home in a police van, but I don’t think that would do you any favors, do you?”
Charlie was upon them now, raising her voice as she pointed them in the direction she wanted them to head in. There were a lot of cut-throughs and alleyways round here—even though there was safety in numbers, she would rather they made their way home along the high street.
“She saw him,” one of the girls replied tartly, her attitude to coppers shining through clearly.
“Saw who?”
“The guy what did this,” the teenager answered, nodding toward the fire site.
“Who saw him?” Charlie asked, trying to keep the desperation from her voice.
“Naomie,” she said, pointing to another of her group. Naomie was mixed race, a little overweight and blushing to her roots.
Blocking the others out, Charlie approached her. “Tell me what you saw, Naomie.”
The blushing girl seemed not to hear her, so Charlie pulled out her warrant card. “I’m DC Brooks. I’m working on this case and anything you can tell me would be very helpful.”
“Tell her, girl. Tell the pig what you saw,” the leader said, laughing.
In another situation, Charlie would have cautioned the little shit for that alone, but today she had to let it go.
“Who did you see, Naomie?” Charlie pressed. “I really don’t want to have to make this official, but I will if I have to. Please—tell me what you saw.”
Finally the gravity of the situation seemed to land home and the girl looked up. And as she did so, Charlie was surprised to see fear in her eyes.
“I sawhim.”
50
“I know you’ve been over this with DC Brooks, but I’m going to need you to walk me through it too, okay?”
Helen looked across the table at Naomie Jackson, wondering if even at this late hour she might refuse to help them. According to Charlie, it had taken a lot of persuasion to get her to the police station at all. Now that she was here, ensconced in an interview suite with them, the nervous teenager seemed evenlessconvinced of the wisdom of assisting them.
Naomie fiddled with her empty bottle of Sprite, spinning it round and round in her hands. To Helen’s eyes, she seemed a nice enough girl, but there was a massive hole where her self-esteem should have been. Her scruffy appearance, monosyllabic conversation and inability to look grown-ups in the eye were all testament to that. She was a follower, not a leader, and was no doubt cursing her mate for dumpingher in it. But there was no time for mollycoddling—if Naomie had important information about the fires, Helen needed to have it.
“We don’t want to cause you any trouble, Naomie. We won’t contact your mother if you don’t want us to. And DC Brooks will drop you anywhere you need to go when we’re done. She will be your point of contact from now on, and any worries or concerns you have—about any of this—well, you can call her directly and she will be straight round to help. So please tell me what you saw.”
Naomie spun the bottle one more time, then said:
“I saw a guy running down the cut-through.”
“To be clear, this is the cut-through that leads onto Ramsbury Road?”
“S’right.”
“When was this?”
“Just before closing time. I’d left the pub and was going home.”
Helen nodded. Charlie shot a look at her, but Helen ignored it. Right place, right time for the CCTV—but Helen wasn’t getting her hopes up yet. “Where had you been?”
“At a pub near the Common. I live in St. Mary’s so was walking back this way.”
“And what did you see?”
