Read Online Baby Did a Bad Bad Thing by Gabrielle Lord - Free Book Online Page B

does to a woman’s face. They can’t imagine what it’s like for a lightly framed human body to be bashed with a crowbar, or a hammer. Repeatedly. They don’t think of what it’s like to be almost choked to death.
    The girl stirred and moaned through the heavy sedation.
    ‘It’s okay, sweetie,’ her mother said, stroking the bruised hand, distress contracting her face.
    Robyn opened her eyes. Then closed them again.
    ‘I wanted you to see first-hand what he did,’ Shelly whispered. Gemma couldn’t take her eyes from the restless young girl. ‘The bastard disengages the handle on the inside passenger door,’ she added.
    Gemma had a sudden memory. Ten years ago, when she was still in the job, she remembered a series of attacks on street girls where the attacker used exactly this technique. Then, suddenly, the attacks had stopped.
    ‘She’s probably going to lose the sight in one eye. I’d give a lot to get this bastard alone,’ Brenda said, her voice choking.
    Me too, Gemma was thinking. She felt nothing but contempt for this cowardly attacker who preyed on the vulnerable.
    ‘If I get my hands on him .   .   .’ Brenda whispered.
    ‘The cops are doing as much as they can,’ Shelly said, ‘but they never get the resources they need.’ She paused. ‘And really,’ she continued, ‘until he strikes again, there’s not much they can do. They’ve pretty well told us to look out for him. That reminds me.’ She fished into her snakeskin purse and pulled out a dirty business card. ‘The girl that was beaten up last month,’ she said, ‘found this next to her when she came round.’
    Gemma took the business card. ‘ Oradoro Imports Exports ,’ she read, superimposed over the dinosaur-like reptile she’d already seen once before. ‘That’s George Fayed’s business,’ Gemma said.
    Shelly grimaced. ‘That doesn’t surprise me.’
    Was it a message? A warning? Or just a business card dropped on the footpath? It certainly didn’t constitute evidence of any sort. Gemma put it in her briefcase.
    Shelly noticed something and leaned forward. ‘I think Rob’s trying to say something.’
    Both Brenda and Shelly moved closer.
    ‘What is it, darling?’ said her mother. ‘I’m here.’
    Robyn opened her eyes again. They were panicky and unfocused.
    Brenda smoothed the hair on her daughter’s forehead. ‘You’re safe,’ she said. ‘It’s okay.’
    Robyn shook her head. ‘He kept singing. All the time he was hurting me. He just kept on singing.’ Her eyes were wide as she relived the terror and pain, thrashing from side to side in the bed and Gemma feared she’d hurt herself more.
    ‘I’m getting a nurse,’ said her mother, but as she reached for the red panic button, her daughter suddenly lapsed back into unconsciousness.
    Shelly looked at Gemma and picked up her purse. ‘I need a smoke,’ she said. ‘There’s a balcony down the end of the corridor.’
    They left Robyn and her mother and walked the length of the corridor, stepping out onto a little balcony where an unhappy rubber tree languished in a pot that smokers had used as an ashtray, and a couple of plastic chairs were propped against a wall. Shelly teased a cigarette out of the packet with her impossibly long golden nails and lit it.
    ‘He hit her with something heavy, maybe a shifter or something like that, as well as his fists,’ she said, exhaling. ‘And whatever it is that leaves that odd-shaped bruising just for good measure.’ She leaned against the parapet of the balcony, staring through the bare plane trees at the street below.
    ‘What was she saying about singing?’ Gemma asked.
    ‘He sings. He turns up the music on his car radio and sings along while he’s doing that to them. Whistle while you work.’ Shelly’s voice was bitter. ‘I’ve had about enough of this life. Maybe I should sell out to the Lebanese drug lord.’
    ‘What Lebanese drug lord?’
    ‘Ex-client of mine’s been putting a lot of