Andrew nodded. “But he’ll be back on the street in twenty-four hours.”
Dalton took over for her partner. “I’m afraid that’s the system. The burden of proof is on the victim, not the offender. You’ll need evidence and things will have to go through the courts.”
Andrew flopped back in the chair. All the times he had dismissed conservative claims that there was too little justice in the British prosecution system and it turns out they were right. There was no justice. Andrew’s family were being terrorised and the system would do nothing to protect them. Instead, it was more interested in protecting Frankie’s rights. Andrew didn’t blame the two police officers in his living room. They’d let down their impersonal barriers since the last time they’d visited and seemed genuinely sympathetic. They wanted to help. Andrew imagined they were just as frustrated by their lack of power as he himself was.
“Look,” said Andrew. “What the hell should I do?”
“Do you have anyone you can stay with?” Dalton asked.
Andrew shrugged. “I guess. Pen’s parents could have us for a while, but how does that help in the long run?”
“It will just be until we press charges and bring Frankie in front of a judge.”
“But you don’t think I have a case, though. Not enough evidence.”
PC Dalton bit at her lip before sighing. “You’re right, we don’t. All you have is threats. It’s not enough.”
“So, what then?”
The two officers thought for a moment. Eventually it was Dalton who said something. “Look,” she said. “I’ll make a phone call to the Super and see what we can do. I would strongly suggest leaving in the morning and going somewhere else for a while. In the meantime we’ll get this piece of scum off the streets and make it clear to him that we’re watching his every move.”
“And will you be?” asked Andrew.
Dalton shrugged. “I’ll request a plain-clothes to be stationed in the area. Hopefully if we supervise Frankie’s movements long enough, we’ll catch him doing something illegal.”
Andrew felt himself relax, tension flooding out of his bones in great heaps. Someone being nearby watching over his family was exactly what he wanted – all that he needed to feel safe again. If the little punk tried anything else there would be a witness – a police witness.
“Thank you,” said Andrew, standing up and offering out his hand. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. It’s such a relief.”
The police officers stood up and Dalton shook his hand. “Don’t get too excited just yet. I’ll fight a good case for you, but it’s not my decision at the end of the day.”
Andrew nodded. “Okay, but you’ll let me know?”
“Of course, but you should stay somewhere else in the meantime, until we figure things out. Even if we do get a man put on Frankie, it will still take a couple of days.”
“Well, you have my thanks just for doing anything at all. I was beginning to think that I’d never get help.”
Wardsley seemed a little irritated by his comment, but Andrew felt it was fair. He gave Andrew a half-smile. “We do our best Mr Goodman. We can only do as the law allows. We’ll let ourselves out.”
Andrew nodded and stood aside. He was too relieved to feel guilty for offending the officer. In his opinion it wasn’t asking too much for a little help from the police force – but again he reminded himself that it was likely not their fault. They were just trying to do a hard job with one arm tied behind their backs.
Andrew reconsidered his actions and leaned out into the corridor to apologise to the officers, but they had already started down the front path.
Oh well. I’ll say something next time.
Andrew turned back into the living room and found Pen and Bex standing there, smiling at him. Obviously they’d been eavesdropping from the kitchen.