Power on Her Own Read Online Free

Someone had warned they’d clamp illegally parked vehicals. A lot of commercial waste bins. A skip at the far end. A couple of cars lit up by the security lights. Come on, cursory looks are no good. Have a good nose round. And –
    Yes!
    The boy had the girl – an Asian kid, not much more than sixteen – upright against the wall hidden by the skip. One forearm pressed across her throat, the other hand digging into her buttock. Stupid bastard, couldn’t he tell the reason she wasn’t screaming was that he was choking her? Throwing down the naan, Kate hurled herself, grabbing the youth by the hair, yanking till she could arm-lock him. And then she was tugged off and thrown to the ground.
    They fled, two dark figures. With those hooded jackets they could be any race. Give chase or see to the girl? The question answered itself: the girl crumpled, falling on to the wet tarmac. Pulse? Breathing? Better put her in recovery position just in case. And then find a phone. Fast.
    The local uniformed lads didn’t take long to arrive. By then the girl was crying and moaning: they might need an ambulance.
    â€˜Good job you were there,’ Guljar, the night sergeant said, getting back into his car. ‘Hey, want a lift home?’
    â€˜I’m only a couple of roads away.’
    â€˜Hop in anyway. We’ll talk ID tomorrow, OK?’
    â€˜You can talk all you like. I only saw the rear view.’
    â€˜ID a bum, if you like.’
    â€˜Spare me!’ She fastened her seat belt.
    â€˜Well, was it a brown or a white bum? I know things look different under these lights, but you must have some idea. Kate?’ he prompted.
    She shook her head. ‘You’d think all these years of training – Guljar, I’d reckon it was light brown. But I don’t want to think stereotypes –’
    â€˜And there are some pretty evil white bums around too. Poor kid. This won’t go down well with her family.’
    â€˜Eh? She was raped, for Christ’s sake!’
    â€˜Don’t tell me, Kate. I know. But you saw her clothes: all that black gear. Locals call them ninjas. Can’t say I blame them. I mean, shoving your religion down people’s throats. I mean, I’m a Sikh, and proud of it, but I’ve cut my hair. Doesn’t mean I’m any the less devout. Bring my kids up in the family tradition. All this black gear rubs people’s noses in the fact you’re different.’
    Kate didn’t feel up to a discussion on religion and social conformity, not at this hour.
    â€˜But even if the family’s far right fundamentalist, they couldn’t blame her for –’
    â€˜Kate: last year on my patch – when I was still in uniform – there was this shooting. Mum, daughter, kid brother; then the dad turned the gun on himself. For why? Cause some kind auntie had seen the girl kissing an African-Caribbean kid down the park, that’s why.’
    â€˜So she won’t just need support from the Rape Unit – she might need protection from her own people! My God!’
    â€˜Thank God for safe houses.’ Putting the car into gear, he reversed smartly.
    â€˜Hey, I just realised my dinner’s somewhere here. Tikka in a naan.’
    â€˜Into local delicacies, are you?’ Guljar stopped, getting out and peering round. It was he who found the little parcel, flat under his back tyre.
    He took her back to the chippie, of course.
    The lad behind the counter looked at her with obvious respect when she asked for a repeat. ‘You sure you can manage another, Miss?’
    â€˜Two, I should think.’ One of them for Guljar, waiting in the car.
    â€˜Bloody hell. What you Londoners got? Hollow legs?’
    She was trying to jiggle the Yale key into the front door when a figure came up the shared front path.
    It was a woman. What had Aunt Cassie said about her neighbours? Immigrants. Jamaicans, Aunt Cassie had called them, in a slightly