I shake my head. `Already done. And nothing doing.'
There's a silence.
`It's not just what he says about the extensions,' says Somer quietly, staring at the board. `It sounds like he was interrupted. Like Faith's attacker was.'
I turn to Baxter. `Have we managed to track down the emergency vehicle Faith heard?'
He nods. `Squad car, sir. There was a burglary reported in Headington High Street and they got stuck behind the roadworks on the Marston Ferry Road.'
`But the officers didn't notice anyone entering or leaving the allotments? No van of any kind?'
`Sorry, sir. I spoke to the two guys and they don't remember seeing anything. But I'm getting the footage from the speed camera along there and the petrol station on the Cherwell Drive roundabout. And if he got away in the opposite direction he'd have passed Summertown High so the school CCTV may have picked him up.'
`Challow and the CSI team are on-site,' says Gis quickly. `And we have the cable ties and the plastic bag. We're also going to question the neighbours in the immediate vicinity of where she was abducted. You never know, someone might have seen something.'
And yet they never bothered reporting a girl being kidnapped off the street right under their noses? Some hope. But there are motions to be gone through in this job, and that's one of them.
`And there's the question of Faith's handbag, as well,' Somer continues. `Her mum went back that afternoon and found it chucked in one of the bins round by the garages. Minus the valuables, of course.' She sighs. `Forensics will check it in case but it's possible her attacker just left it where it fell and someone else came along later and stole the money and the mobile. But no one's used the phone since.'
So GPS isn't going to be any use either. Another cul-de-sac.
`What about Faith herself?'
Somer makes a face. `She's reluctant to be examined, sir, for obvious reasons `“ and in any case she'd showered at least twice before we spoke to her `“'
`But what about her clothes? There could be saliva `“ DNA `“'
Somer shakes her head. `She threw the whole lot in the wash. It's only natural, to react like that, but it does make our job ten times harder. The only thing we have is the shoes. We'll get them tested, but I suspect it's a very long shot.'
* * *
Interview with Jackie Dimond, 35 Rydal Way, Oxford
2 April 2018, 4.15 p.m.
In attendance, DC V. Everett
JD: I'm not sure what I can tell you, I hardly know the Applefords.VE: We're speaking to all the neighbours, Mrs Dimond. Sometimes people have seen more than they realize.JD: This is about Monday morning, yes? I wasn't even in then.VE: Yes, you did say that. I was more interested in whether you'd seen anything unusual in the last few weeks.JD: Unusual, as in?VE: Anyone hanging around you didn't know? Someone asking about the Applefords? Taking an interest in their house? Perhaps someone parked up in a van?JD: Sorry, love. I'd have told Diane if anyone was snooping about.VE: I thought you said you hardly know them?JD: I don't. But she's on her own, isn't she. Like me. No bloke to fall back on. I'd have definitely said something if I'd seen some pervert hanging about.VE: Do you know the girls `“ Faith and Nadine?JD: Not really. Mine are a bit younger so there isn't much of an overlap, if you see what I mean. Faith is always very pleasant. Smiles and says hello. And always looks lovely, too. I wish my Elaine would smarten up a bit, but you know what teenagers are like.VE: And Nadine?JD: I can't say I've had much contact with her, to be honest. Keeps her head down. Slouches. Doesn't make the best of herself, you know? It must be tough, though, mustn't it `“ with her sister being so attractive whereas Nadine `“VE: Actually, they seem pretty close to me `“JD: I mean `“ she's not much to look at, is she?* * *
By 4.30 Andrew Baxter has been staring at CCTV footage for over an hour. In front of him, on the screen, cars swing in and out across the petrol station forecourt. He's found six vans so far, along with a horsebox, a vintage Harley-Davidson he rewound a couple of times just to admire, two trucks from a travelling circus and any number of yummy-mummy SUVs in the thick of the school run. The chances of their man being there at all are pretty remote, as far as Baxter can see, and even if he was, how the hell are they supposed to recognize him? It's a total bloody waste of time, that's what it is. He pushes the chair back and gets up, feeling a headache lurking in the back of his neck. Must be low blood sugar, he thinks. Better be safe than sorry. Lucky the snack machine is only a few yards down the corridor.
* * *
Adam Fawley
2 April 2018
17.25
`Pull up a chair `“ if you can find one.'
I'm in Bryan Gow's office. Or, strictly speaking, his temporary office, since his building is being refurbished and the Department of Psychology is camped out in a few spare rooms in Plant Sciences. It's a solid 1950s building on the South Parks Road with fixtures and fittings to match `“ wooden panelling and parquet floors and rare botanical specimens in glass cases. Though most of the potted living versions look in need of a good water and a bit of old-fashioned TLC.
Judging by the books heaped haphazardly on the only free seat, Gow's current room-mate is an expert in psycholinguistics, whatever the hell that is. Last time I was here Gow spent the whole time telling me that it's only for a few months and he really doesn't mind sharing, but he isn't fooling me. It seems there's nothing more instinctively human than a desire for our own space. Even psychologists can't talk themselves out of that one.
`I wanted to run something past you,' I say. `On Monday morning an eighteen-year-old girl was abducted near Cherwell Drive. I want to know who we should be looking for.'
He raises his eyebrows, then sits back and joins his fingertips together. `OK. Shoot.'
It takes me a good five minutes to tell him everything, but he's frowning long before I've finished. And even more so when I give him the printout from the Incel board.
`And there's no suggestion, is there,' he says eventually, `that it was someone this girl knew?'
I shake my head. `Much as I want that to be the answer `“'
`Or someone who's aware she's transitioning?'
`Again, we're looking, but right now we can't find anyone outside the family who knows.'
He taps the printout. `So you want to know whether this could be your man.'
`And if not him, then who.'
He gets up and edges round the desk to a stack of cardboard boxes heaped one on top of the other on a table under the window. He must have packed them a hell of a sight better than I would have managed because it only takes him a few moments to locate what he wants.
`Fairly basic, but adequate for the layman,' he says, tossing a book on to the desk in front of me.
Profiling Sexual Offenders: Theory, Research, and Practice in Investigative Psychology. The author is American, if the surname is anything to go by.
`So what's this going to tell me?'
He sits down again. `A lot of what you know already. This sort of crime is primarily about power. Power and fear. This man wants to dominate, and he wants to terrorize. Sexual assault is just a means to that end.'
`Even though these Incel boards are all about sex?'
`They're about the absence of sex,' he says, holding my gaze. `And what that absence deprives them of: status, self-esteem, autonomy.'
Sexual assault as taking back control. Jesus.
`In that case, what sort of profile should we be looking for?'
`Tediously predictable, I'm afraid. Almost certainly white, and low-to-middle class. At least average intelligence `“ perhaps even slightly above.' He picks up the printout. `He uses contractions like `њcdve`ќ, but he spells `њrealized`ќ correctly, and puts the apostrophe in `њdidn't`ќ. And he likes wordplay `“ YeltobYob, tashhag `“ that degree of linguistic dexterity suggests the upper end of the educational range generally seen with crimes of this kind.'