Free Bleed for Me by Michael Robotham Page B

policeman intervenes. Constable Dwyer has gel ed red hair that makes his head look like it’s on fire. He wants to talk to me privately. I tel Charlie to be nice and to look after Emma.
    She gives me a death stare - already accusing me of taking sides against her.
    The constable explains the facts. The driver, Mr Singh, picked Charlie up from school during last period after she phoned for a minicab. He dropped her outside the Royal United Hospital, where Charlie couldn’t pay the fare. According to Mr Singh, she tried to run away and he had to lock the doors. She then assaulted him.
    ‘He has a security camera in his cab,’ says the constable.
    ‘Can I see it?’
    Constable Dwyer raises a hinged section of the counter and leads me to a desk with a computer. The wide-angle footage is grainy and poorly lit, shot from low on the dashboard.
    Instead of being focused on the driver, it is aimed at the passenger seat, revealing Charlie’s legs and a flash of her underwear as she reaches for her seatbelt.
    The PC fast forwards to the argument. I can hear Charlie offering to pay and giving her address. When she tries to get out of the car, he locks the doors and she panics.
    ‘Is he al owed to imprison her?’ I ask.
    ‘He can make a citizen’s arrest.’
    ‘She’s fourteen!’
    I glance at the computer screen again. ‘That’s an odd place to put a camera, don’t you think? What was he trying to film?’
    Mr Singh overhears the remark and takes offence.
    ‘I’m not the criminal here!’
    ‘Perhaps I should look at your other CCTV tapes,’ says Dwyer.
    Mr Singh puffs up in protest.
    ‘I want her charged. And I want my medical expenses paid . . . and compensation for loss of earnings.’
    My mobile is vibrating. It’s Julianne.
    ‘Where are you?’
    ‘We won’t be long.’
    ‘Is everything al right?’
    What am I going to tel her?
    ‘I’m at Bath Police Station. I’l be home soon.’
    ‘Where are the girls?’ Her voice has gone up an octave.
    ‘Charlie has been cautioned for assaulting a cab driver and failing to pay the fare.’
    Silence.
    Maybe I should have said nothing.
    ‘It’s al right. It’s under control.’
    Final y she speaks - her questions coming in a rush. When? Why? How?
    ‘Stay calm.’
    ‘Don’t tel me to calm down, Joe. Where’s Emma?’

    ‘She’s with me.’
    Emma is sitting on Charlie’s lap, playing a clapping game. I notice the ink stains on Charlie’s fingers. She’s been fingerprinted. That’s ridiculous.
    ‘What’s ridiculous?’ asks Julianne.
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘You just said something was ridiculous.’
    ‘It’s nothing. Got to go.’
    ‘Don’t hang up on me.’
    ‘Bye.’
    I confront PC Dwyer. ‘Why has my daughter been fingerprinted? ’
    ‘It’s standard procedure. We take DNA samples and fingerprints to confirm a suspect’s identity.’
    ‘She’s fourteen.’
    ‘Age isn’t an issue.’
    ‘This is a joke!’
    Dwyer’s amiable veneer has disappeared in a heartbeat. ‘Nobody is laughing, sir. I ran a check on your daughter. This isn’t the first time she’s been in trouble.’
    He’s talking about the shoplifting incident. I want to tel him about the kidnapping and how Charlie was trussed up in tape and left breathing through a hose. No wonder she panicked when the driver locked the doors on her. But I know Charlie is listening and I want her to forget her ordeal rather than have it brought up again.
    ‘She had a formal caution last time,’ says Constable Dwyer. ‘This time the matter wil be referred to the CPS.’
    Mr Singh seems happier. His nose has stopped bleeding. I fancy punching it.
    ‘So what happens now?’
    ‘A court summons wil be sent by post. If it doesn’t arrive, she’s in the clear.’
    I look at the driver. ‘What if I offered to pay your medical bil s ... and compensation?’
    His head rocks and he points to his nose.
    Dwyer recovers a remnant of his former warmth. ‘It may not go any further, sir. Take your daughter