‘On what charges?’
Pippa shrugged. ‘No charges. Now what do you want?’
There was a remoteness about her that Kim found unnerving, and it had nothing to do with drugs. She was broken. Something inside her had shrivelled up and died.
‘Do you get busted for prostitution or drugs?’ Kim asked.
‘None of your business. Now ask a different question or fuck off.’
A picture was starting to form in her mind, and it sickened her.
‘The same folks keep raiding you?’
Pippa’s face hardened, and she nodded before looking down at her feet.
Broken or not, she still felt shame.
‘Moss or Butler?’ Kim asked.
‘Moss, but I don’t want no bother. I’ve got a transfer,’ she said, nodding towards the house. ‘I’m swapping with a couple who’ve got a flat in Lytham next week, so I really don’t want any hassle.’
Kim nodded her understanding.
‘So, what are your questions?’ Pippa asked, biting her lip.
‘My mistake, Miss Jacobs. I actually have no questions. Sorry to have bothered you and hope your move goes well.’
The woman frowned as they moved away, and she closed the door.
‘Well, that was a waste of bloody time, wasn’t it? What are you playing at?’ Bryant asked as they headed for the car.
‘I didn’t feel the need to force her to relive it. She feels shitty enough.’
‘Guv, I’ve got no idea what?—’
‘Think about it. Follow the clues. She’s a prostitute. She does it to fund her drug addiction. She gets raided every week by the same person and yet she’s not arrested or charged with any crime. Why not?’
‘Aww, shit,’ Bryant said as the penny dropped. ‘He’s demanding sexual favours for silence.’
‘That’s a nice way of putting it. He’s threatening her with charges for sex. He’s the worst kind of?—’
‘And you want me to befriend this guy? Act like I’ve got something in common with him?’ he asked, revulsion pouring out of him.
Kim nodded as her phone rang. It wasn’t her first choice to put Bryant in the man’s company, but it was their best chance of witnessing something that could be used against him.
‘Go ahead, Stace,’ she answered.
‘Boss, you might want to do a revisit. Someone isn’t telling you the truth.’
Twenty-Six
NOAH
The light through the small dirty window was Noah’s only indication of passing time. He thought he’d spent one night sleeping after being given the funny water to drink, but his perception of time was distorted. Then, yesterday, the man called Mister had returned twice, and then darkness had fallen. He thought it might now be Tuesday, but there was no way of knowing for sure. He didn’t know how long he’d slept, and more nights might have passed without him knowing.
On the first visit of the day, the man had said his name was Mister. He had said nothing more while emptying the bucket. Noah had shrunk into the corner, wondering if he was going to be examined as he had been the night before. He had shivered with fear as Mister had squeezed and touched his arms, turned him around and pinched his thighs and his calves. Just when he’d thought his bladder might betray him, Mister had loosened his grasp and moved away.
He’d removed the pack of biscuits and left fresh water and a donut with a stern instruction to eat. Noah had tried a mouthful but had vomited it back up within seconds.