Deception by Helen Forbes

Author:Helen Forbes [Forbes, Helen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-01-13T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 50

SAM

She’s a nasty wee piece of work, that Sergeant Rodgers, with her mocking sneer.

‘What’s that you’re modelling? Vintage 60s? You didn’t take long to get into her old man’s pants. It’ll be hers next.’ She sniffs. ‘Did you raid her booze cabinet when she was sleeping?’

Nose like a bloodhound, and that face; he’s seen better looking roadkill. He doesn’t answer. Not worth it. He’s showered and dressed, his hair combed, teeth brushed, and he’s feeling pretty damn good.

The feeling doesn’t last. An hour in, and Sam feels sick. He wants to clutch his knees and pull them up to his chest. He wants to be somewhere else, but there’s no escaping. At least the officers from Professional Standards are taking him seriously, and they’re courteous. They started off asking for descriptions of the girls he saw with Collesso. He has a good memory, but they all seemed to morph into one. Young. Probably legal, but only just. Short skirts and tops. Long skinny legs. Dark eyes and olive skin. Sometimes Collesso was alone with one of them, and they’d be so out of it, they could hardly walk. Other times, there might be a few of them with him. They were on the game, and it looked like Collesso was their pimp.

It’s bad enough to talk of those girls, but this tale … it fills him with fear and dread and shame. He can see it all, as if on film. The moon shining. The air still and warm. He shouldn’t have been there. Not in World’s End Close. The very name still sends shivers down his spine. It was a combination of drink and yobs on the street that had seen him escape into a close that he usually avoided. He wouldn’t get a good sleep, for he couldn’t stop thinking of the two teenage lassies last seen in the World’s End Pub, at the head of the close, in 1977. They’d left with two men, and their bodies were found in East Lothian the next day. It had taken decades to convict anyone of their murder, by which time one killer was dead, and the other responsible for a catalogue of sadistic crimes.

He must have drifted off, and he woke to the sound of grunting and moaning. The moon was shining down on the pig and a girl. Sam had stayed in the shadows and watched the pig roll off her, pull up his trousers, and spit on the cobbles. He’d picked something up off the ground, something red, and shoved it in his pocket. He’d walked away, smiling, without a backward glance at the girl. She’d groaned and rolled over onto her knees. The state she was in. Vomiting and crying, her skirt round her waist. Sam had covered her with his coat and held her hair back while she retched. The vomiting stopped. She’d looked at him, her eyes glazed, and asked why he’d done this to her, and where were her knickers.

Sam had grabbed his coat and sleeping bag, ran from the close.

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