Free Frankie by Kevin Lewis

tape into the machine and fast-forwarded to the relevant section.
    Taylor watched closely as the blonde-haired woman ran down the road. He couldn’t believe that was his killer – she was barely older than his own daughter, and there was hardly anything to her. How could she have inflicted so much damage on the tough old corpse he saw last night? ‘Has anyone shown the picture to the girl?’
    ‘No, sir, not yet. I only managed to get hold of the tape an hour ago.’
    Taylor stood up. ‘OK, what hospital is she at?’
    ‘St Thomas’, sir. But …’
    ‘What?’ Taylor turned to face Irvin, one eyebrow raised.
    ‘Don’t you think you should wait for social services to see her first, sir?’
    ‘What, wait for them to give her a big cuddle and achocolate milkshake? Of course I fucking don’t.’ He grabbed his coat and walked out.
    Mary was recovering at the state-of-the-art Evelina Children’s Hospital at St Thomas’. It was the first time Taylor had been in the new building, and even he was impressed as he looked up at the seven floors of glass as he entered. It didn’t feel like a hospital at all – more like a hotel especially for children. He walked in and made inquiries at reception as to her whereabouts. Because she was being watched over by the police, she had been placed in a family room on the first floor, the Arctic Level. Each floor was themed on the natural world so that children would feel relaxed and happy. This place really did have everything a sick child would need – even its own school. It was probably the most luxurious place the wretch he had seen last night had ever experienced, Taylor mused to himself as he made his way up to see her.
    Lizzy, the female officer, had finished her shift and the male officer who had replaced her was sitting on a chair outside the door, reading a copy of the
Sun
, which he quickly folded up and put away when he saw Taylor approach. ‘Is she awake?’ the DI asked him without any greeting or formality.
    ‘I think so, sir. A nurse took some breakfast in about half an hour ago.’
    ‘Has she said anything?’
    ‘No, sir.’
    Taylor knocked, and when there was still no answer he opened the door and walked straight in.
    Mary was sitting up in bed wearing pink pyjamas supplied by the hospital, a tray on her lap holding her breakfast things – every last scrap of food had been devoured.Her clothes had been washed and pressed and were neatly hanging in the open wardrobe opposite the bed. Taylor looked at Mary. She seemed much more like a thirteen-year-old girl now that she had been washed and her hair combed. The girl didn’t even acknowledge his presence; she just stared straight ahead, zombie-like. More than anything else she looked vulnerable.
    Taylor stood by the door. ‘Can you hear me, Mary?’ Her eyes didn’t move. ‘My name’s Detective Inspector Taylor. I need to ask you about the events at Newington Park last night.’ He took a few steps closer to the bed. ‘Do you want to tell me your surname, Mary?’
    Almost imperceptibly, Mary shook her head.
    Taylor was trying the softly-softly approach. Make friends with her. Make her realize that he was on her side. But experience had taught him that that way of doing things rarely bore fruit: street kids don’t trust coppers, it was as simple as that. He knew they’d be far more likely to believe that he’d be willing to chuck them in a cell before handing them over to social services, who would inevitably send them back to where they came from – be it their parents, foster parents or a children’s home. So they invariably responded to a rougher hand, and over the years that had become Taylor’s default position. He remained silent for a few moments before speaking again. ‘Do you know what will happen if you waste my time?’ he asked, affecting a bored tone in his voice. ‘Young offenders’ institution. Nasty place. You get fucked over three times before breakfast. Think I’d rather be