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‘Oh,’ she said as his photo appeared on the screen, matching the boss’s description. Rounded face, mid-thirties, brown hair and a small mole on his right cheek. The photo had been taken in his mid-twenties but everything else was the same.
Terence Birch had first come to the attention of the police when he was twenty-four years old. A neighbour, twenty-six-year-old Charlotte Danks, had reported him constantly standing outside her house.
Visit number one: Birch had been advised to stay away from the complainant.
Second report from victim of the same behaviour.
Visit number two: Birch had insisted that he wasn’t going to stop because he liked looking at her. Officers had advised him of the changes in law regarding stalking, and had warned of arrest and a criminal record if his behaviour continued.
Stacey knew there were different types of stalker: ex-intimate, acquaintance or stranger.
Birch proclaimed they were acquaintances, but Danks insisted she’d never exchanged a word with him in her life.
The cat-and-mouse game continued for a couple of years. Just when Danks had gathered enough evidence and police were poised to arrest, he’d back off for a couple of months. Eventually he started turning up at Danks’s place of work. Being warned off by male colleagues had no effect, and he always made sure he was on public property.
Four years in and he finally appeared before a magistrate. He was given a slap on the wrist and a stern warning.
From what Stacey could see, Charlotte Danks had done everything right. She’d kept diaries, taken photos and filed restraining orders, which he broke the terms of and thus eventually landed himself in prison for six months.
Danks moved house but didn’t change jobs. The day after he was released, he turned up at her workplace. A year later and another stretch inside, and Danks had relocated completely to Somerset. Within a week, Birch found her and the pattern resumed. Last year, he did another term inside, and by the time he was released, Danks had gone again.
‘Jesus,’ Stacey said, wondering why Birch had failed to get the message.
There was a lot more to this bell ringer than met the eye.
Stacey knew she had to find a way to speak to Charlotte Danks. Even though the records didn’t note it, she had to find out if Birch had ever threatened her with physical violence. Was there any chance that he’d transferred his feelings to Sandra Deakin?
She read through the entries again.
‘Bingo,’ she said, seeing Charlotte’s sister listed as emergency contact. She rang the number for Ella Danks.
‘Hello,’ said a female voice on the second ring.
‘Hi, my name is Stacey Wood from Halesowen CID. Do you have a minute to talk?’
‘About what?’ The tone was neither warm nor cold. It was wary.
‘About your sister.’
‘I don’t have a sister,’ Ella said.
Stacey was confused only for a second.
‘Ella, I’m going to hang up now but would you please call my station and ask to speak to me so you know I’m telling the truth?’
Hesitation before the line went dead in her ear.
Stacey had no idea whether she was going to call back or not but she tapped her fingers on the desk in anticipation. After what her sister had gone through, the woman could be forgiven for thinking Birch had paid someone to make the call to get information on Charlotte.
The phone rang.
‘DC Wood,’ she answered.
‘Okay, I believe you’re who you say you are, but it doesn’t mean I’m going to tell you anything.’
‘I need to speak to Charlotte.’
‘Not happening.’
