Resentment burst inside me: I was tired and getting hungry and I still had to drive home and sit up half the night with an abandoned baby and find out if I still had a lover. And Sinclair thought I was useless.
‘You don’t seem very interested in finding out who did kill Charlie Carter,’ I said sharply, ‘or are you clinging to the original conviction?’
His round eyes glittered with anger and when he spoke his words were tight. ‘You know nothing about me but I’ll tell you this: Damien Beswick was dealt with above board and by the book. He confessed to a crime and all the evidence we recovered supported that confession. If justice has not been done, he bears the responsibility. No one else.’ His gaunt face trembled as he finished.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, ‘I didn’t intend to offend you but that lad deserves to have his name cleared and the real killer should be found and tried. I’m not making things up, I’m just trying to find an explanation for new evidence. I need to pass this information on to the police; someone has to take it seriously.’
There was a pause. ‘I’ll make a couple of calls,’ he said. ‘Get you a name.’
‘Thanks.’
Our parting was stiff, still taut with anger on both sides. I understood it must have been hard for him, seeing the case he’d worked so hard on crumble, have me spouting my pet theories. It would be hard for the other officers and those who would review their work. A job well done gone rancid.
FIFTEEN
‘I’m sorry,’ Ray said. ‘I couldn’t talk; I was still trying to take it in. Still am.’
‘Did you tell your mother?’
‘God, no!’
Small mercy. We were in the kitchen, the favoured venue for most of our family crises. The table was between us. It was getting late.
‘So what did Laura say?’ I felt shivery, raw, drained.
‘She doesn’t want me involved.’ He was stung, his face drawn. ‘She doesn’t want my help or any maintenance, nothing.’
Some men might be relieved. But Ray? ‘What do you want?’ I asked quietly.
He clenched his jaw, swallowed. I looked down and saw him press his fingertips hard against the surface of the table, his nails whitening. ‘I want to know him,’ he said. ‘I want Tom to know him.’
‘Did you tell her that?’
Outside a fierce wind had blown in from the west, buffeting the trees and roaring down our chimneys.
‘She’s not interested.’
‘Maybe in time-’
‘I’m not even on the birth certificate.’ He spoke quickly.
I tried to imagine their discussion. Recalled Laura as self-contained, quiet; biding her time. Amenable but no pushover. ‘Was she angry, or upset?’
‘Not particularly,’ he said dismissively.
‘Or not showing it? She might be doing this to punish you. You dropped out of her life just as she finds she’s having your baby. You dropped her like a stone, Ray.’
He glowered at me, his lips pressed tight together.
‘All I’m saying,’ I went on, ‘is that she must be hurt. It’s natural she never wants to see you again. You had been happy together,’ I reminded him, though it made my throat ache.
‘You think she’s right?’ he demanded, his temper rising.
‘Not about the baby. But I understand why she’s taking this tack. You need some advice – legal advice,’ I said.
‘What’s the point? It’s all stacked in her favour. You see it all the time, don’t you? Fathers for justice, whatever – and those guys were married.’
‘So you do nothing? Roll over and let her decide? You say you want to be part of Oscar’s life, so fight for it.’
Ray sighed and put his hand to his head.
‘I know some lawyers,’ I pointed out, ‘I can ask around.’ Relief was seeping through me now I knew the facts of the situation. Ray and Laura had not played out the great romantic reunion. She didn’t want him. Did he still want me?
‘Did you see him – Oscar?’
‘Yep.’ He stood swiftly, overcome by emotion. I rose, too, wanting to console him, wanting him to comfort me. He cleared his throat. ‘I’m going up, I’m knackered.’ He turned away. ‘Night.’
My eyes pricked, my stomach contracted. I needed his touch. Physical confirmation that things were still good between us. I stewed on this for quarter of an hour and then went to his room. He might not want sex, that was fine: just to lie together would be enough. I went in and crossed to his bed. He was fast asleep. I’d like to say I looked on him with fond sympathy and left him to rest but in truth I stalked out of there aflame with fury, and before I gave in to the impulse to smash something over his pretty black curls.
Monday morning Ray stayed in bed with a temperature and aches and pains. After I’d taken the kids to school I dialled Abi Dobson.
‘Tell me you’re not busy,’ I said.
‘Your friend not back?’ she asked.
‘No, they want to keep her in a bit longer,’ I lied, feeling heat in my face.
‘Well, I’m not busy. Give me ten minutes.’
‘You’re a lifesaver,’ I said.
‘It’s great for me,’ she replied, ‘some extra cash.’
‘I’ll bring her round to yours,’ I said. ‘I’ve some calls to make there and then I need to go to the supermarket. Not sure how long I’ll need.’
‘It doesn’t matter, I’ve nothing else on today.’
I caught Monica Meehan, Damien’s lawyer, on the phone before she left for court. When I’d explained why I wanted to see her, she hummed and hawed over her diary, finally squeezing me in early on Friday morning. She also cautioned me that there would be a long way to go before anyone could start talking about quashing the conviction. And the possibility of reopening the investigation would be up to the CPS.
I rang Libby. ‘How are you bearing up?’
‘OK,’ she replied. ‘Apart from some jerk from the tabloids who had fun shouting through the letter box.’
‘When was this?’
‘Yesterday. He gave up after a few hours.’ The sarcastic edge disappeared from her voice as she added: ‘He said the police will want to interview me again. Just the thought of that-’
‘They have no evidence against you,’ I reminded her. ‘They hadn’t back then and they still don’t. You were close to Charlie and you found him. That’s why they had to consider you.’
‘I know. It was horrible, though. It’s so frightening to be in that situation, I don’t think people have any idea. It’s really scary.’ There was a tremor in her voice. I couldn’t help but think of Damien and how he’d chosen to lie, to sentence himself to time behind bars rather than endure the interrogation.
‘He was just trying to get a reaction from you – something to quote in the paper,’ I said.
‘Bloody hyenas,’ she complained.
‘Have they been back?’ I checked.
‘No. But I’m lying low for now. So, is there any news?’
‘Things aren’t going to move quickly,’ I told her and outlined what I was doing.
‘Should I do anything?’ she asked. ‘Write to the police and demand they reopen the investigation or whatever?’
‘Good idea. The more pressure there is coming at them the more likely they’ll have to be seen to be doing something. Address it to the chief constable.’
‘Right. I’ll do that.’
‘But don’t get your hopes up,’ I warned her.
‘You’re saying all I might end up with is that they charged the wrong man.’
‘I hope it’s more than that but these things can take years. And there’s a limit to what I can do. The ball needs to be back in the police’s court. They have jurisdiction. They have the authority.’
After I’d sorted my mail and email messages, I locked the office and went upstairs. Abi and Jamie were in the living room. Jamie was dozing and Abi was watching TV.