Desolate Sands Crime Book 5 (Detective Alec Ramsay Crime Mystery Suspense Series) Page 6

  “It’s not like that,” Tibbs sighed. His gaze drifted to the light on the ceiling. A mesh cage protected it to stop suspects from turning the bulb into a weapon. He’d seen hundreds of them; hundreds of cells, hundreds of interview rooms. “It is not like you think.”

  “That’s exactly how it is.”

  “I know how it looks,” Tibbs said, resigned to the overwhelming facts stacked against him. “But it isn’t what you think.”

  “We’ve interviewed the children and the teachers at the school. They recognise your picture.” Annie studied his face for his reaction. “You were arrested for loitering near a playground last month. Do you recall it?”

  “Of course I do,” Tibbs said angrily. “I’m not an idiot. I know what you think of me, but I’m not stupid and you don’t know all the facts. I will never forget it.”

  “Good,” Annie countered, “then you’ll be able to explain to the judge why less than a month later you bought chocolates and approached a primary school. You can’t help yourself can you?”

  “No,” Tibbs looked at the ceiling as he spoke. “My life would be normal if I could. You don’t understand. Nobody does.”

  “I do,” Annie frowned as she spoke. “I understand that you need to be behind bars and unless you cooperate, that’s exactly where you will be.”

  “You lot have got me all wrong,” Tibbs squeezed his nose between his finger and thumb. A tear ran free and a sob choked him. “You always had me wrong.” Annie was surprised to see his eyes fill up with tears, although there was neither empathy nor sympathy for him. “I wouldn’t harm those kids. You’re right that I can’t stay away from them but I wouldn’t harm them.” Hot tears ran down his cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his hand and sniffled loudly.

  “Save it for the judge, Tibbs,” Annie said coldly. “You’re crying because you were caught red handed. You don’t give a shit about how much you ruin the lives of the children and their families.”

  “I know I’ve ruined lives but not the way you think. I do care,” Tibbs said quietly. “That’s my problem. I care very much.” He looked at the brackets, which fastened the table to the floor and his mind went back to a better time. “We’re not that different me and you.”

  “Now you are tripping.”

  “Did you know that I was a police officer of sorts once?”

  Annie laughed and looked at her colleague. “Of course you were.”

  “It’s true,” a tear escaped his eye as he spoke. “I remember it was such a normal time when people didn’t spit at me in the street, not the good ones anyway.”

  “Is this another fairytale?” Annie said sourly. “I think it would be mentioned in your file somewhere. I’m losing my patience with this, Tibbs.”

  “Hey you’re not far off the mark there.” Tibbs looked back at the floor. His expression was full of melancholy. “It seems like a fairytale now.” He gazed into space, his thoughts far away from the tiny interrogation room. The scuffed walls and stale air were replaced with blue skies and the smell of cut grass. “I was a Redcap for nine years.”

  “A what?” Annie frowned. The nickname rang a bell but she couldn’t grasp it.

  “An RMP,” Tibbs nodded slowly. “Royal Military Police. My last posting was Basra during Desert Storm.”

  “Bollocks,” she slapped the desk with her palm. “I’ve read your file.” She opened it and his picture looked back at her.

  “Of course you have.”

  “There’s no mention of any military service.” She stabbed the pages with her index finger.

  “There won’t be,” he said. “I was given a different name after Iraq.”

  “Why?” Annie snapped.

  “I was put into witness protection.”

  “What,” she hissed. “This is ridiculous!”

  “I had to testify against some of our own men. They’re very dangerous men.” He stared into her eyes. Annie couldn’t see any deception in his. “That’s all that I can say.”

  “What was your real name?” She still wasn’t sure.

  “Nigel Dunn,” he answered calmly, “Captain Nigel Dunn.”

  Annie looked incredulous. “Go and check this,” she ordered her DC. Lewis seemed shocked by the claim.

  “Guv,” he said standing up. He flashed Tibbs a disbelieving glance as he left the room. “I’ll follow the trail of bullshit to Lala Land. He’s lying through his teeth.”

  “It’s true,” Tibbs shrugged. “When I came back from Iraq, they whisked me into protection and I couldn’t cope.”

  “Why did they put you into the program?”

  “I can’t tell you, but I will say that some very senior personnel were involved.”

  “Go on.”

  “I was the key witness,” Tibbs said. “Once I had testified, I still wasn’t safe. They couldn’t allow me back into normal service. They pensioned me off and eventually, I was joined by my family.”

  “You had a family?”

  “I had a wife and a beautiful daughter.” His lips quivered as he spoke. A deep breath seemed to calm him before he carried on. “We were moved from pillar to post to keep my identity secret, but it meant that my wife couldn’t contact her family. She couldn’t cope. She had a breakdown and it all fell to pieces.”

  “What were their names?” Annie didn’t believe a word of it. She pushed her hair back from her face and smoothed her trousers irritably. She didn’t want to believe him but something about his demeanour had her rattled; the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

  “Mary.” He smiled at her memory. “Mary was my wife. Our daughter was Nicola.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Your detective will come back and verify it.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Mary died.” Tibbs looked straight into her eyes. “She killed herself with an overdose two years after I was discharged. Her family blamed me and they were right, it was my fault. If I hadn’t testified then none of it would have happened. Mary would be alive and I would have my family with me. I should have refused to testify.”

  “Testified against who?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  “If you’re bullshitting me,” Annie left the sentence hanging.

  “You can check it.”

  “We are.”

  “Good,” Tibbs said calmly. “I’m sick of people looking at me as if I’m slime.”

  “Where is your daughter?”

  “After the suicide, she was taken into care and then adopted by her aunt,” his voice broke. “I was drunk all the time. I couldn’t deal with leaving the army and I fell apart when Mary killed herself. As I said, Nicola was adopted by her aunt, who despised me. When I tried to find her, the family took an injunction out on me. I couldn’t compromise my new identity and the family made it impossible for me to see her.”

  “Go on,” Annie was intrigued.

  “Nicola grew up in Woolton Village; she married and had two daughters of her own, Rosie and Rebecca Milton.”

  Annie grabbed the file and flipped through it. The surname rang alarm bells in her head. She looked at Tibbs open mouthed. “The two girls you were charged with assaulting in the park?” she shook her head. “Their surname was Milton.”

  “Yes,” he grimaced. “I shouldn’t have gone near them but I couldn’t help myself. I didn’t assault them. I hugged them. They didn’t know me, I was drunk and it was blown out of all proportion.”

  “Oh my God, why didn’t you tell them who you were?” Annie was still to be convinced but if he was telling the truth, it was a tragedy.

  “I couldn’t do that. They’re too young to understand.”

  “Is that why there was no further action?” Annie saw the pieces slot into place. “It explains why the judge let you walk.”

  “My solicitor declared my real identity to the courts at the last minute, but it had to be handled that way to keep my identity secret.”

  “Well, I’ll be buggered.” She mu
ttered beneath her breath. “What about the rest of your sheet?”

  “I’m a drunken idiot, nothing more than that.”

  “The assault charges?”

  “”I followed Nicola’s first husband to a pub one night,” he shrugged. “He met another woman. He was cheating on my daughter.”

  “So you hit him?”

  “I was drunk.”

  “He didn’t know who you were?”

  “Obviously,” Tibbs smiled. “I didn’t say anything in court that time. I just took the slap on the wrist.”

  “The shoplifting?”

  “Whisky,” he blushed. “I was broke and needed a drink. I hold my hands up to that and before you ask, the images of children on my computer were my grandchildren. I downloaded them from Facebook. I trawled the close family’s pages and copied the images of them. Obviously some of them were holiday photos and your colleagues thought the worst; can’t say that I blame them to be honest.”

  “For God’s sake, Tibbs.” Annie frowned. She wanted to feel guilty for the way she’d acted towards him but she felt angry instead. “Why didn’t you identify yourself when you came in?”

  “If I do that,” he said shaking his head, “They’ll stop my pension and as you can see, I’m not fit for the work place. I’m trapped inside Richard Tibbs, suspected child molester and honorary member of the sex offenders list.”

  “Does Nicola know that you’re her father?”

  “No.” He shrugged. “Her aunt told her that I was dead. It’s better that she believes that. Look at me. I’m an aging drunk with nothing to offer her. I didn’t know what to say to her, so I watched her from a distance. I watched my family grow up and I couldn’t even speak to them.”

  “And the primary school at Crosby?” Annie grabbed the file again. “What were you doing taking sweets to the kids there?”

  “That’s where my granddaughters go to school now, but their surname has changed,” Tibbs nodded. “Nicola was divorced from their father and they took her new husband’s surname, Williams.”

  “So you bought sweets for your grandchildren.”

  “Yes.”

  “This is why you were so adamant that we can’t use your statement?”

  “Yes.”

  Annie sat back and sighed. She couldn’t believe that she had misread him. As she mulled over the facts, it all made sense. “Okay, if this all checks out, then you have my word that we won’t reveal our source.” Annie splayed her fingers on the table and sat forward. “I still need that name though.”

  Tibbs bit his top lip and paused, “one of them was the double of John Ryder. I actually thought it was him at first.”

  “I can see why you were anxious about naming that family.” Annie raised her eyebrows. “What made you so sure that it wasn’t him?”

  “I saw John Ryder on the front page of the Echo once. He had a tattoo below his ear.” Tibbs touched his neck instinctively. “The man I saw was younger and didn’t have the tattoo.”

  The interview room door opened and the young detective appeared. He looked sheepish. “I’ve checked with the MOD. They wouldn’t tell me much but they have a Richard Tibbs on the payroll. They confirmed that he was Captain Dunn. If we want any more information, we need a court order. His story checks out, Guv.”

  “Could you make sure that Mr Tibbs is fed and watered before you release him,” Annie stood up. “I may need you to do a line-up at some point. We won’t use your evidence but it would help us if we know we have the right man.”

  “No problem,” Tibbs nodded and smiled thinly.

  “What did I miss?” Lewis asked confused.

  “A lifetime,” Tibbs smiled.

  “So it’s Mr Tibbs now then, Guv?” Lewis frowned. “Are we just going to swallow this bullshit?”

  “I’ll fill you in on the way back to Crosby Beach,” Annie said taking a last look at Tibbs. Annie had an uneasy feeling in her gullet. She sensed that there was a storm brewing over Richard Tibbs but she didn’t know why. She put it down to instinct. “You take care of yourself.”

  “You too, Detective.”

  Chapter 9

  Tasha James woke up with the urge to vomit. Her throat was so dry that she couldn’t swallow. Her memory of where she had been was cloudy at first but the stinging pain in her neck reminded her that she had been knocked out by a punter with a stun gun. Although her mind was numbed from the electric shock, she was aware that she was in danger. She had to allow her senses to return fully before she tried to move. The vision of the punter’s bulging eyes was emblazoned on her mind. There was evil behind them. His voice had no emotion; he was an automaton, ice cold and malevolent. She listened intently and tried to work out where she was, reluctant to move an inch in case it attracted another belt from the stun gun. Her limbs felt strange. Her fingers and toes tingled, yet they felt alien. She desperately wanted to move but she daren’t. There wasn’t a sound to be heard; nothing that she could use to pinpoint her location; no car engines, voices or music. Just silence. She waited for long minutes resisting the urge to sit up, open her eyes, scream and run as fast as her legs would carry her. The older girls had warned her that if a punter turns psycho, compliancy could save her life. Although she was terrified, she knew that the next few minutes of her life could make the difference between life and death. Moving could provoke another attack. She had to remain still until she was in control of her faculties and had a better idea of how bad her situation was.

  Mentally she checked over herself. Apart from the burning sensation caused by the Taser, there were no obvious signs of serious injuries. There was no pain. She didn’t feel bruised or wet. If the man with the scary eyes had stunned her in order to rape her, then she didn’t think it had happened yet. Her underwear was intact although she could feel cool air on her legs and stomach so he must have removed her outer clothing. She wasn’t outdoors. She was sure of that, but she didn’t think that she was still in the van. It might have been better to have woken up dumped in an alleyway rather than this. At least all she would have to worry about was the rain soaking her. She was indoors somewhere. The air that she breathed was room temperature. There was no breeze on her flesh and no birds tweeting or dogs barking. It would have been bad enough to be roughed up, but this was much worse. Being attacked by a punter was an occupational hazard but it was usually quick and brutal. A planned abduction was rare, even for a working girl and they rarely ended well. This was an orchestrated kidnapping and of that there was no denying. Every inch of her body trembled with fear.

  She listened once more for any giveaway sound. It was essential that she picked up any clue as to how dire her situation was. There was nothing but silence. She opened her eyes. Just a squint at first. She kept her head still and moved her eyes left to right. There was no bogeyman stood over her, no monster waiting to bite deep into her throat. The man with the bulging eyes wasn’t there. She could see wooden joists above her and a single low wattage bulb hung uncovered from an ancient flex. The dim light couldn’t penetrate into the corners of the room. The darkness was pushed back a few yards at the most. She couldn’t tell if there was someone lurking in the dark shadows, waiting and watching. He could be sat there with a razor, bulging eyes staring at her, waiting for her to wake up. This could be a game of cat and mouse, stunning her and then waiting until she awoke before hurting her again and then what? Would he keep her locked up for years like the women she had seen on the news? Sex slaves kept alive to abuse at will. Some of them had actually given birth to children and brought them up in captivity. Was that what he planned to do? Keep her as a pet? Was death a better option? She couldn’t decide. Would he rape her and then dump her in the river or bury her in a shallow grave? Debating whether death was the preferable option to a life of slavery and abuse wasn’t helping her to remain calm. The more she thought about her options, the more her heart raced. She felt that it might burst through her chest. Her mother’s face drifted into her mind, kind and caring. How disappointed she wou
ld be to see her now, selling her body to buy crack and vodka, putting her life in danger; her only daughter susceptible to assault and abuse on a daily basis. She would be sick with fear if she knew the half of it.

  Tasha took a deep calming breath and then opened her eyes fully. She waited long seconds for an attack to come.

  Nothing.

  The rafters above supported dusty floorboards. She thought that she was below ground, in a cellar maybe. The walls were plastered smoothly and painted magnolia, the floor concrete. As her eyes became accustomed to the gloom, she noticed a trolley to her left against the wall. Stainless steel instruments glinted on a canvas roll, scalpels, hooked needles, bone saws, metacarpal saws, forceps, scissors and syringes. Tasha was twelve months into a nurses’ course when she began to struggle with the fees and her rent. She had spent a week on a theatre placement. The instruments were familiar to her. So were the procedures that they were designed for; slicing, cutting, peeling, amputating and stitching; destruction and reconstruction. Surgery was a gift to the sick under controlled conditions with the correct drugs administered, but in a dark dank cellar it was nothing but a nightmare even to the most twisted mind.

  This wasn’t a hospital. Whatever the man with the bulging eyes had planned for her, it appeared to involve surgery. She sat up quickly and looked around in a panic. The muscles in her chest threatened to crush the breath from her lungs. She swung her legs off the table and squeezed her thigh muscles between fingers and thumb to encourage blood flow. Her eyes settled on the scalpels, glinting, sharp and threatening and ready to slice. They were almost magnetic in drawing her eyes to them. Their evil glint fuelled the burning fear that she felt. She looked away to gather her composure. Her clothes were folded neatly in a pile on a hardback chair which was pushed against the wall to her left. She was grateful that her underwear had not been removed as she wrestled her limbs into her garments. Escaping and putting as much distance as possible between herself and this place was her only thought. Whoever her attacker was, he had underestimated her. Leaving her untied with weapons to hand was a huge mistake. She struggled into her boots and then ran to the trolley. Tasha picked up a scalpel and the largest pair of scissors that she could find and then stumbled to end of the room to find the door. If her attacker tried to stop her, she would cut him to ribbons before he could overcome her again. She would escape or die trying.