After Deacon had shown me the body of the young girl I had reached his level of depression and understood why he was acting as out-of-character as he was.
This whole event. This situation. The death that was hideous in it’s appearance and gripped us all by the throats until our very breath was taken from us in despair. It was already eating away at me.

Deacon eventually followed me out of the tent and suggested that we take a walk.

“I find that after seeing something like that, it clears the mind. We need distance from this thing.” he said, taking me by the arm and guiding me away towards a bench some 100 yards away.

“I know what you’re thinking, Ray.” He continued, myself walking silently beside him. “How could something like this happen? I’ll tell you why; this is London, one of the biggest and busiest cities on the planet. It has every possible breed of person co-existing with each other, rubbing shoulder to shoulder. This sort of thing is bound to happen. This is life.”

This final comment stuck in my back and made me feel sick. How could this be life? Who the fuck could possibly wake up and quite reasonably to say to themselves one morning; ‘I think I’m going to find a girl and kill her’?
I think I said pretty much that entire sentence to the old-fashioned Deacon, who stopped at my words and looked at me straight in the eye with his deep black eyes.

“Ray, I’ve been doing this for forty years and it doesn’t get any easier. They will just find new ways to get around us. That’s what they do.”

I was used to dealing with drug dealers and petty thieves. I had no idea why Deacon had pulled me out of my bed on Christmas morning to look at the second most awful thing I had ever seen…up to that point.

“You’re a sensitive soul, Ray.” Deacon began to explain as we continued walking toward the bench. ” That’s what I admire about you. You do this job and you still care a toss about all this. About life.”

We finally reached the bench and for the first time I saw him struggle to catch his breath and he sat down with a heavy sigh as if he had just run a mile. I decided that I would remain standing and looked down at the man who, had this been a film, would have been classed a living legend.

“I know this is hard for you lad, I really do. But I needed you on this because I’ve only known you to succeed in catching the right criminals. You think with your heart and not your head.”

I thanked him weakly and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it immediately. Deacon was wrong about me though. I didn’t care. I couldn’t really give a shit about anyone. I was bored, lazy and exhausted with life. This whole scene before me was horrendous, sure enough, but could I be bothered to find out who did it? Not really.

Then it was her voice again – on the wind. I cursed it for returning as I was trying to listen to what my mentor was telling me. The more I tried to ignore it, the worse it got until I suddenly worked out that she was not talking, she was yelling. Screaming. Not in pain but frustration.

“Are you OK?” Deacon asked. “You’re not even listening to me, are you? I’ve just given you a huge bloody compliment.”

For a moment I envisaged the girl standing next to me, straining and leaning forward, shouting into my ear – but her words were still muffled. The pitch went up and down. Up and down – over and over again, her voice straining.

“Raymond! Are you listening to me?”

It was a two-tone beat I was hearing. Thump, Thump. But what the hell was it? What was she trying to say to me? At this point I shook my head and clasped my hands around it for protection.
” Go away! Fuck off! Leave me alone!” I shouted and Deacon jumped to feet in anger and gripped both my arms.

” Ray, what the hell’s the matter with you?” He shouted. I looked at him for a moment and listened – the sound was gone and all I could hear was light traffic noise and the birds in the neighbouring trees. ” Are you alright?” He asked, now concerned.

” I think I’m just in shock, that’s all. I’ve not seen anything like this for a while.” I replied.

“That’s the other reason I wanted you here.” Deacon remarked. I asked him to explain. “You have something that the other detectives down here don’t have. You have experienced this sort before.” And with that he smiled as a friend would smile.

He was right. I had seen this sort of thing before, but the last time it had been my fault.

“Are you ready to go back?” Deacon asked. I nodded and together we made our way back to the police tent.

RDK