BooksBarbecue
Back Cut to the Bone
Chapters (71)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise for Cut to the Bone
  3. About the Author
  4. Also by Roz Watkins
  5. Note to Readers
  6. Dedication
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. Extract
  67. Prologue
  68. Chapter 1
  69. Author’s note
  70. Acknowledgements
  71. About the Publisher

‘I tried to, but … I couldn’t go through with it.’ She looked at us from under a strand of damp fringe. ‘The policemen … I heard them laughing and joking about one of their colleagues. The size of her breasts. I couldn’t talk to people like that about what had happened to me. I don’t suppose they’d get away with it now.’

I felt a moment of shame even though I hadn’t been a cop in 1999. That a girl who’d already been so thoroughly kicked by life, who’d been raped by a so-called friend, had encountered the worst kind of macho dickery and hadn’t been able to go through with reporting a crime. And unlike Bex, I wouldn’t bet against similar happening now. ‘Is that why you said yesterday that you wouldn’t come to the police station?’

She nodded.

‘Did you see any of the boys afterwards?’

‘No. I left Gritton and vowed never to go back.’

I pictured her father in his neglected kitchen, with his run-down rose garden outside. ‘You haven’t been back to Gritton since that night, even to see your family?’

‘No. My dad and sister never even knew I had the baby. And imagine coming across one of the boys and not knowing if it was him that did it. Part of me wanted justice, but I couldn’t make myself go back there. Something deep inside me was terrified of the place.’ She wrapped her arms around her stomach, almost as if protecting a baby in there. ‘Please don’t ask me to go back to Gritton. I couldn’t do it.’

14

I projected an image of the banner onto the white wall of the incident room. The piglet being roasted over the fire, mouth gaping open, terrified eyes. The statement – Who will be next? The image was even more grotesque in the confines of the station; the threat even more chilling.

The room filled with shocked muttering, which rose and then died down. A couple of lads at the back laughed at a comment I hadn’t heard. I felt a brief spark of annoyance but didn’t react. ‘This was found draped down the side of the abattoir this morning,’ I said. ‘In the light of Violet’s disappearance, I think we have to take it seriously.’

The muttering died down. The lads shut up.

‘Yeah, Violet could just be the first,’ Craig said.

‘We can’t rule that out,’ I said. ‘There’s been a scuffle in the village involving Gary Finchley and the Animal Vigilantes. It’s not clear how it would have progressed if cops hadn’t shown up.’

‘That banner’s a clear threat,’ Jai said. ‘I’ve spoken to our insomniac, Mrs Ackroyd, and she saw a van drive past her house at three in the morning. It checks out against one seen at Animal Vigilantes protests.’