Danger's Edge

4 Hours-1

It may only have been a matter of minutes but, to me, it seems an interminable length of time before the officer arrives. “Hello, I’m W.P.C. Paula Fleming. I’m a trained s****l Offences Liaison Officer, or S.O.L.O. for short. I’d like to take you through to what we call the comfort suite so we can get a full statement from you. We can either do this privately or, if you prefer, your friend can come and sit with you.”

Before I can answer, I see Jenny arrive. She’s looking around frantically until she spots us. She rushes over and hugs me tightly.

“Oh Briony, are you okay? I was so sorry to hear about your problem and I’ll do everything I can to help.” I fish my house keys from my handbag and give them to her. It looks as if her eyes are welling with tears and I struggle to keep my composure.

“I won’t be long,” she says. “You said you want your charger and a change of clothes. I’m guessing something casual like denims, tee-shirt and undies. Anything else?”

“Yes, get me my trainers please, maybe my fleece as well, in case I feel cold. Thank you so much.”

“Okay, I’m on it. I’ll be back in thirty minutes, an hour, tops,” Jenny says as she races away.

“I was asking whether you wanted to be seen alone or with your friend?” Paula repeats.

“I’d like Alesha to be with me, please.” I look to Alesha for confirmation. She indicates her assent. “Can Jenny come in, too, when she gets back?”

“Yes, no problem.”

“Will you be the one investigating what’s happened?” I ask.

“No, I’m the liaison officer. I’ll take your statement, after which we’ll decide what further steps we need to take. There’s a specialist r**e investigation unit who handle this type of case. They aren’t in this office at present because they’re handling other matters. I’ll take things as far as I can and then we’ll decide whether they need to be involved.”

“Wait a minute,” Alesha interrupts. “Are you suggesting you might choose not to carry out further enquiries?”

“Not at all,” Paula replies. “Once I’ve taken your statement, then we’ll discuss your options and I’ll explain what’s involved. It’s entirely up to you whether we take matters forward. You’re under no pressure either way.”

As I don’t yet know what’s involved in an investigation, I’m not too certain what she means, but she sounds friendly and reassuring and I hear myself say, “Okay.”

* * *

4.5 Hours

Paula leads us through a door and along a narrow corridor. My nose crinkles; I detect the odour of disinfectant failing to conceal a more natural stench of body odour. I gag, being hit by another wave of nausea, and I choke back the bile. We pass through another entrance and through a second corridor before Paula unlocks a door to the side and beckons us in. The room is warm and looks comfortable. There’s subdued lighting and the walls are a pastel colour. There are no windows, but I see a climate control unit in the corner above a kitchen area. Thick carpeting covers the floor and there are four well-upholstered seats surrounding a coffee table.

I settle into an armchair. Alesha sits to my right with Paula opposite. Paula starts off by confirming all the information already taken by Cynthia, when I first arrived. Next, she says, “I need to record this.” She activates a device and then tells me she wants to be told everything that’s happened to me, described in my own words. She gives Alesha a steady stare, a clear sign that while she’s happy for her to attend, she wants her to stay silent while I give my statement.

“This is really difficult,” I say.

“I know, but just do your best,” Paula replies.

“No, you don’t understand,” I say. “It’s difficult because I don’t know what happened.”

Paula raises an eyebrow. “We need to start somewhere. Please tell me what you do know?”

“The problem I have is, I have no recollection of what’s happened to me for the last week. The last thing I remember is being in my office working, last Friday. The next thing I’m certain of is being in Central Station this morning on my way into work.” I pause to draw in breath. “I’ve checked, or rather Alesha checked for me. I left the office at about 7.30 pm on Friday. I was meant to meet Jenny at eight at Alfredo’s for drinks and dinner. She turned up late, and I wasn’t there. As far as I know, I haven’t spoken to anyone and I haven’t seen anyone, and no-one has seen me since then until this morning.”

Paula considers this for a second. “How do you know Jenny was late?” she asks. “Did she tell you?”

“Well yes, she did, but I first realised when I checked the texts on my phone. She’d left me messages.”

“I see,” says Paula. “I’d like you to leave us your phone so we can check all messages and so our telematics experts can analyse it. They may be able to track where you’ve been.”

I lift my phone from my bag and hand it to her. She places it in an evidence bag.

“When I opened my bag this morning, I discovered that someone had dismantled my phone. The cover had been separated and the SIM and battery detached,” I explain. “I reassembled it so I could check for messages.”

She looks sombre. “It looks as though someone was very careful with their planning,” she says, but she doesn’t comment further. Instead, she nods, encouraging me to continue.

“Like I said, the first thing I remember this morning was being in Central and I didn’t feel at all normal. I felt flu-like, you know, dizzy and disoriented. All my limbs ached. I felt sore all over and particularly sensitive here and here,” I indicate my breasts and pubic region.

“Please explain in more detail for the tape,” Paula says.

After verbalising where I feel pain, I add, “I don’t know what else I can tell you.”

“I understand,” Paula replies, but the pensive look on her face suggests a different story. “It’s not too unusual for people to have blackouts or memory loss. There’s a whole range of reasons why it can happen. The brain is a very complex organ,” she says, tapping her temple as if I wouldn’t understand without a visual aid. Maybe I’m traumatised, but she’s treating me as if I’m an imbecile and I don’t appreciate it. I must have pursed my lips without realising it. Misinterpreting my gesture, she compounds her felony by explaining further. “Let me put it another way. It can often store lots of memories without you being aware that they’re there.”

I want to tell her not to patronise me. I have an A-grade pass in biology, but I reckon it’s better to preserve my strength. Also, I’m aware I need to keep her on-side if I’m going to achieve anything. I grimace and nod.

“It’s more than likely that your memory will come back, or at least some of it and it could happen in stages.” Paula smiles at me reassuringly. Alesha, being aware of my discomfort, takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I want to remember, at least I think I do. It’s the not knowing that’s tearing me apart,” I say, and I mean it. How can I cope when I don’t know what I need to cope with?

“I meant what I said. It’s not unusual for victims of r**e or a*******n to suffer from memory loss, but I haven’t come across a case like this before where someone has had a gap in their memory of such a long period of time.”

“I have no wish to set precedents, but this situation isn’t of my choosing,” I say.

Paula nods in acknowledgement. “I have more questions for you, Briony. We need to know as much as we can about you, so we have the best chance of getting to the truth of the matter. Don’t get me wrong, we don’t doubt what you’ve already told us, but we need to put everything in context so we can correctly interpret any evidence that we find.”

“It’s okay. I expected you’d want to know more about my personal life.”

“Once we’ve finished the interview, the next stage is to send you across to the medical unit for a forensic examination. It’s next to Sandyford Clinic.” Paula appraises my reaction and being satisfied I appear to comprehend, she continues. “We’ll want to take all clothing you’ve been wearing for examination. I take it you haven’t already changed?”

I glance at my wrinkled dress and manage a half smile. “You’re right, I don’t normally dress like this. These are the clothes I was wearing when I went to work last Friday. As far as I know, I’ve had them on since then. I’ve been desperate to change but thought it best to come and make my report first. Jenny will be back soon with some fresh clothes for me to change into.”

“The medical staff will also give you a full examination. They’ll take blood samples, check you over for cuts, bruises or puncture marks and they’ll take photos. They’ll swab you for DNA. Are you okay with all of that?”

I give a slight shudder at the thought. “I can’t say I’m comfortable with the idea, but I understand it’s necessary,” I reply.

“Good,” Paula says. “I’m pleased you feel able to cooperate. Now, I know you haven’t changed your clothing, but have you showered or washed since your memory gap?”

“No,” I reply. “I really wanted to, but Alesha advised me not to, not until you’ve had a chance to examine me.”

“That’s good. Alesha was correct. I understand you’ll want to wash as soon as possible. It shouldn’t be long. Now, have you eaten or drunk anything?”

“No, not yet. I felt sick about an hour ago. I sipped some water, but nothing else.”

“Again, that’s good. A little water shouldn’t make any difference. You’re probably starving. We can arrange some tea and toast once we have examined you.”

“Thanks.” It hadn’t occurred to me before, but now, with the mention of toast, I feel ravenous.

“Thinking about last Friday, in the time that you can remember, did you drink anything alcoholic or did you take any drugs?” Paula asks.

“No, I was at work. I’m not much of a drinker and I never drink while I’m working. I had been planning to have some wine in the evening. As for drugs, they don’t interest me. It just isn’t my scene.”

“Are you on any medication? Are there any prescription drugs you routinely take?”

“No, I don’t take anything,” I answer quickly and then reconsider. “Wait a minute. There is something. I’ve had a recurring sports injury which affects my shoulder. It kicked off again after I played badminton on Wednesday, that would be last week, and I took Co-Codamol on both Thursday and Friday mornings.”

“That’s a powerful painkiller,” Paula says.