But what about the person who pushed her over? How could he or she have known? Was there just one among the group who knew their exact position? One person who saw an opportunity to take advantage of the fear and confusion?
Cooper pictured the map showing the relative movements of the walking group that fateful day. He was remembering his interview with Jonathan Matthew. In his mind, he could hear Jonathan talking about how guilty he felt not to have been there to protect his sister when she died. Cooper had sympathised with him then, had fully understood the guilt he was experiencing.
But surely the map had been telling him quite a different story, which he’d been refusing to see. According to the MRT, only Dolly the search dog knew Jonathan’s exact position when he was found. There was no evidence of where he was at the moment his sister was attacked and killed, no clear picture of where he’d gone when the party split up.
Perhaps, after all, Faith’s brother was there when she died.
31
Derbyshire Constabulary’s headquarters were tucked out of the way in the Butterley area of Ripley, accessed from an anonymous roundabout on the A610 near a McDonald’s drive-through and a Sainsbury’s supermarket.
It was a long while since Ben Cooper had been here, and then it was for a meeting at Operational Support in their base off Wyatt’s Way. Since his last visit, the administrative departments had moved into a gleaming new building they shared with the fire service, and which seemed to be made mostly of glass.
As he drove in through the security barriers, Cooper saw the NPAS helicopter sitting on its pad behind the dog kennels at the rear of the site. He found a place in the visitors’ car park backing onto the sports fields and collected an identity badge from reception. Then there was a wait before his appointment.
He took a seat in the reception area, clutching the manila folder he’d brought with him. He spent the time running back over his conversation late last night, after he’d left Bridge End Farm and parted with Chloe Young. Even now, he could hardly believe what he’d done. But if he was going to help Diane Fry, it was inevitable. He’d called Angie, without telling Diane what he was going to do. He could just hear what she would have to say about that. She’d always hated any contact between her professional and personal lives, particularly between him and her sister. They had a history, and Diane never forgot.
‘I don’t think there’s anyone who can be trusted,’ Angie had said to him.
‘Do you not trust me?’
She’d been silent for a while. Cooper had been able to hear a baby in the background, making that annoying grizzling sound babies did. He thought of suggesting to Angie that Zack was teething, but decided she wouldn’t appreciate the advice. Not coming from him.
‘I don’t know you very well,’ she’d said, ‘but...’
‘But...?’
‘OK. Give me your email address.’
‘Great.’
Cooper jerked upright when his name was called. He was taken upstairs and ushered into a room. The Professional Standards Department investigator introduced himself as Martin Jackson. He was accompanied by a colleague, who took notes.
‘Detective Inspector Cooper,’ said Jackson. ‘You feel you have something to contribute to this hearing?’
‘Yes, sir, I do.’
‘Mmm. How long have you known Detective Sergeant Fry?’
‘Since she first transferred to Derbyshire from West Midlands. She was assigned to E Division, where I was based.’
‘E Division.’
‘Now Edendale LPU,’ said Cooper. ‘North Division.’
‘Ah yes.’
‘We were both DCs then, part of the same shift in Divisional CID. We’ve worked closely together a number of times since those days.’
‘When Fry was promoted to detective sergeant...?’
‘I was still a DC, yes. So I became part of her team.’
‘And now you’re a DI and you’re senior to her,’ said Jackson. ‘So you’ve observed her from several perspectives, serving in different roles. You’ve had experience of her as a colleague, a supervisor and now as a more junior officer working in a different unit.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And as a friend, would you say?’
Cooper could see he was suddenly being studied more closely for his reaction. He hesitated, though only for a second.
‘She isn’t an easy person to make friends with,’ he said.
His interviewers exchanged glances.
‘No, we’ve already gained that impression. So would you maintain that your opinion of Detective Sergeant Fry is purely a professional one, unbiased by personal feelings?’
‘I would,’ said Cooper.
That was the first lie he’d told. But exactly what feelings were involved? He’d be hard pressed to explain them to himself. Any attempt at explaining them to these two people would only muddy the waters and make his statement seem unreliable. Sometimes there was a necessity for reticence.
The chief inspector was nodding, as if satisfied by his replies.
‘So then, Detective Inspector Cooper, would you say that DS Fry’s conduct has always been entirely professional, in your experience?’
Cooper paused again.
‘No,’ he said. ‘Certainly not.’
Diane Fry jumped when the call came through on her mobile. She saw the number was a Birmingham code. She left her desk and walked out into the corridor as she answered it.
‘Yes?’
‘Diane?’
‘Who else would it be?’
William Leeson laughed, but began to cough before he could speak.
‘Where are you? Is anyone nearby?’
‘Wait.’
Fry looked around and found a quiet spot where she couldn’t be overheard.
‘It’s OK now.’
‘I’m sending you an email,’ he said. ‘To your personal email address. Can you get it on your phone?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK, sending now.’
Fry saw an email appear in her inbox with several attachments. She opened them cautiously. You could never be too careful.
He rang off. She looked at the first one, then scrolled through the others rapidly, in increasing disbelief. He’d sent her a series of cartoons, some of which she recognised as being taken from the Police Federation magazine. There was one showing a sergeant using an e-form on a hand-held device to request a Taser during a riot and failing to get a signal. Another featured Hercule Poirot saying, ‘Not now, Hastings. I’m following a suspect on Twitter.’ Was she supposed to laugh?
‘Bastard!’ she said.
An officer passing the end of the corridor turned to stare at her in surprise. Fry realised she’d sworn much too loudly. But sometimes circumstances demanded it.
In Ripley, Martin Jackson tapped his fingers together and sat back in his chair with a hint of satisfaction at Ben Cooper’s reply.
‘Let’s get this straight, Detective Inspector Cooper,’ he said. ‘You’re saying that you haven’t always found DS Fry to be entirely professional?’
‘No,’ said Cooper. ‘Well, most of the time, yes.’
‘Would you like to expand on that?’
‘What I mean is that I’ve seen her go above and beyond her professional duty many times. I’ve seen her put herself at risk to protect both the public and her colleagues, or to apprehend a suspect. She’s one of the bravest officers I know. While others might stand back and follow approved procedures, she puts herself on the line time after time. She may have made mistakes, but they’ve been honest ones, done with the best of intentions and a dedication to the job.’
‘You have no doubts about her integrity?’