Page 95 of The Girl in the Woods

Ana’s headache was worsening, and she knew she needed to go somewhere quiet to ride out the storm within her brain.

Matt dropped her off outside her apartment block. He whistled in admiration. ‘Bloody hell. I need to ask for a pay rise,’ he joked.

‘It belongs to a friend,’ she lied. ‘She’s travelling, so I’m using it.’

Before he could ask any more questions, she climbed from the car and waved as she entered the building. The headache was almost blinding her, and all she could do was swallow more pills and then lie on the bed with the curtains closed.

Ana was scared. She was out of her depth. The flat was costing her too much. She closed her eyes, but the memories were persistent and harsh. What are you going to do now? her inner voice asked.

‘I want to go home.’ She wept, turning over and burying her head in the pillow. If what she’d discovered was true, who could she trust now? Her eyelids closed as the Valium and painkillers started to work. In that quiet, peaceful moment between waking and sleep, she idly wondered if she should have mixed the pills.

One year earlier

They’d raced to the red-light district, sirens blaring and blue lights flashing. Ana led the way, the ambulance behind her. She’d been dreading this happening. How many times had she warned them?

‘The pimps are supposed to take care of you.’

‘A punter’s a punter,’ Cherry would say.

‘You’re selling sex, Cherry,’ Ana warned. ‘They’re not paying to rough you up. No matter how much they pay, you don’t deserve that.’

Ana knew who the pimps were and had warned them several times, but if Cherry and the girls kept working for them, what the fuck else could she do? She sighed at the sight of the crowd that had formed outside Southfield Park flats. She abruptly stopped the police car, and she and Arif hurried into the dilapidated building, followed by the paramedics.

‘Clear the fucking vultures,’ Arif yelled to the policemen behind them.

Ana was running up the stairs with the paramedics behind her.

‘Oh God, Ana,’ sobbed a young girl, falling into her arms.

‘Where is she?’

The girl took Ana’s hand and led her into flat 13. The smell of cigarette smoke, booze and sweat assaulted Ana’s nostrils. But the overriding smell was the coppery stench of blood. It seemed the whole flat was covered in it. The walls looked like blood-stained graffiti. The other girls sat in shock staring at Cherry, who lay groaning on the floor.

‘He went at her with a billiard cue,’ said one.

‘We tried to stop him.’ Another wept. ‘But he was fucking mad.’ She held up her arm, and her hand was hanging strangely.

‘You must go in the ambulance, Sonya,’ Ana said. ‘That wrist looks broken.’ Ana knelt beside Cherry and held her hand gently as the paramedics lifted her onto a stretcher. ‘Which one?’ Ana asked.

No one answered.

‘I know it was one of your pimps,’ said Ana.

‘The Glaswegian,’ whispered a young girl in the corner. ‘It was my fault. This guy wanted… He wanted to do–’ She broke off and began to cry. ‘Cherry said no, that I was too young and…’

‘So it was McQuire,’ said Ana. She felt a pain in her jaw and realised she was grinding her teeth.

They all stared at her. Fear was evident in their eyes.

‘Fucking tell me,’ she demanded.

‘It was him,’ whispered Sonya.

Ana nodded. ‘You go with the girls in the ambulance,’ she said to Arif.

Arif shook his head. ‘No way.’ He clicked into his radio. ‘Woman has been badly beaten at Southfield Park. Her name is Cherry Miles. Back-up needed to arrest the assailant.’

Ana smiled gratefully at him. He could have called her a prostitute, but he didn’t.

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