‘Okay,’ Kim said, already able to see why that would be a good cover.
‘And throughout there are terms that have been consistent. Gaffs and guineas and references to giros – a type of fighting rooster known for its white feathers. They use the same terminology throughout, and there’s always the same number of fights. Except this one site where there’s only three fixtures.’
‘Go on,’ she urged, feeling the excitement grow in her stomach. Even Bryant’s attention was focussed.
‘No cockfighting venue lists only three bouts. You’re normally talking at least twenty, which take place over a couple of days. It’s taken a lot of decoding to get deeper into the details, but…’
‘What exactly do you have?’ Kim asked, sitting forward.
‘I know where the venue is, and I know the first fight is at seven o’clock.’
Kim sprang up from her chair. ‘Jeez, Penn, why didn’t you say that in the first place?’
She strode out into the main squad room and approached the huddle surrounding Red.
‘Sorry to break this up, folks, but I think we’re going to need your help.’
Seventy-Four
Followed by her team, Kim strode out of Blackpool police station right into the path of Steve Ashworth.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake,’ she cursed. The man could not have worse timing.
‘Inspector, fancy seeing you again.’
‘Thrilling,’ Kim answered as her team shored up behind her. Bryant and Penn knew full well who he was, but Stacey had never met him.
‘Care to give me a comment before we find out the country’s opinions on your actions?’
‘The only opinions I care about are right here,’ she said, folding her arms.
He cast a glance over the three people standing behind her. ‘And they know all about Amber Rose?’
‘Why would they? We weren’t a team then.’
‘So, they don’t know you killed an innocent man?’ he asked.
To her team’s credit, not one of them reacted to his words.
‘Tell them then,’ she said, realising she’d been waiting for this moment, and she just hoped he’d make it quick. They had a long drive ahead.
‘You were a detective sergeant, weren’t you, when the call came in from fourteen-year-old Amber Rose?’
She said nothing, but he was correct.
‘She claimed that her foster dad had been abusing her. You had her taken into care and then proceeded to destroy that man. You badgered him, harassed him, followed him, pretty much stalked him to make him confess.’
Still, she said nothing because he wasn’t wrong.
‘He lost his job, his wife, his friends and his reputation because you wouldn’t let it go.’
‘Those are all statements. Do you have an actual question for me?’ she asked, pushing out her chin.
‘Just one. Was it before or after he took his own life that you found out Amber Rose was lying?’
‘After,’ she said simply and waited for his next shot.
He’d told no lies; he’d embellished nothing, and she had done exactly what he’d said. It had been her darkest time in the force, and she had never stopped trying to atone for it. She had believed every word that had come out of the mouth of the fourteen-year-old girl. She had seen herself and her own time in foster care reflected in every sentence. She had listened too closely to the words she’d uttered instead of using her skills to build a fuller picture. If she had, she would have seen a girl who had made allegations against members of staff at every care facility she’d been housed in. There were many things she should have done. And many lessons had been learned.