A Thousand Cuts by A N Drew

Author:A N Drew [Drew, A N]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-11-25T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next morning, hunched over my desk after the painkiller kicked in, I went through the bank CCTV footage again. I must have gone through it a hundred times, scanning, desperate for anything.

Still nothing more.

Garrett arrived and hung his jacket on the back of his chair but didn't sit down.

"You might be interested in this one, Jack,” he said, an edge to his voice.

"In what?” I said, twisting around in my chair to look at him. He stood in front of his office chair, hands in his pockets, gazing at the carpet. Eventually, he looked back in my direction.

"We picked up a pervert up today, exposed himself to a young girl. David McElroy. A bystander called it in."

My gut twisted. "Where is he?"

"In the interview room. He'll be charged with indecent exposure; thought you might like to talk to him before he goes to lock-up, might have some information for Project Beacon."

"Thanks, Ed,” I said. I rubbed my right palm over my face. "Any priors?"

"Yeah, we picked him up last year for exposing himself in public. Got probation for a first offence. But, get this. He drives an orange van, like the one in the CCTV footage. I checked the registration details. It's him."

My stomach felt empty and my throat burned.

"Let me at him,” I growled, standing up. I took a few strides towards the doorway which led towards the front where the interview room entrance lay, just off the main corridor.

Homicides were one thing, but rape and sexual assault on children another, and I didn't like the world we’d fallen into. I'd headed down into the murky world of child paedophilia and needed a cold shower and a stiff drink.

Garrett followed me and stopped a foot away. "Jack, the world of sickos can wear a man down. But leave it alone, hey? Talk only. Don't touch him.” I turned to face him. Ed Garrett watched me closely, looking for some sign I was losing it. He looked as bad as I felt. But I figured if I could play it cool with Marlin Jones, I could keep calm with this pervert.

"I'll play it by the book, Ed,” I said. "But thanks for the heads-up.” I continued walking and paused before the interview door to take a deep breath and get myself into the detachment of yesterday. Before I headed to the room, I grabbed a can of drink from the fridge and shoved it in my pocket.

I opened the door. David McElroy sat at a rickety interview desk the size of a small card table, seated on a plain black chair. The scumbag might appear regular enough to most people, although first impressions of his appearance struck me as weasel-like.

He was rail-thin, with pasty skin and black short hair plastered to his head. He looked up briefly when I entered, revealing a worm of a moustache, then hung his head. He wore a grey hoodie and what looked like matching pants. I took two strides towards the table and sat down across from him.

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