‘I just don’t see how Rowan could have guessed she wore her hair like that.’
Gow’s frowning now. ‘I see what you mean. And you’re absolutely sure, are you, that Noah never contacted her? Because that’s the only way I can think of that she could have found out something that specific.’
‘The governor wasn’t aware of anything. According to her, all her post was just fan mail. Though she did say she’d check.’
‘Might be worth chasing up on that. Given that we’re here.’
I turn to Carter, but he pre-empts me. ‘You want me to go and ask, sir?’
‘Thank you, Carter.’
We watch him go, then Gow turns to me. ‘So what now?’
I shrug. ‘The lawyer was right. There’s no reason why Rowan shouldn’t be released. I’m sure that’s the line the CPS will take.’
His face darkens.
‘I know, Bryan – I’m as uneasy about it as you are. But what possible reason can there be to hold her? The murder conviction’s void, and she’s just come up with a story that tallies with what we now know.’
‘As far as it goes, yes. But there are still gaps – huge gaps –’
‘I’m with you, but what can I do? With David Seidler dead there’s no one to challenge her. Rowan’s story is the only game in town. There’s nothing I can charge her with. Unlike her poor bloody father, who’s almost certainly going down for manslaughter, if not murder.’
He sighs. It’s probably the most emotional I’ve ever seen him, and I’ve known him upwards of five years.
‘You still want a report?’
I nod. ‘Please. I need to talk to the CPS, but I suspect they’re just going to tell us to close this one down. As I’m sure Superintendent Harrison will agree.’
* * *
JULY 10 2018
NOAH SEIDLER
PO BOX 5653, NY 11201
I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT NOT BEING ALLOWED VISITORS, I’M COMING. WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT. I’M COMING.
YOU KNOW WHY? I GOT SOMETHING FROM OUR LAWYERS TODAY. A LETTER FOR ME, FROM DAD. HE LEFT IT WITH THEM WHEN HE WAS FIRST DIAGNOSED. SAID HE DIDN’T WANT IT GIVEN TO ME TILL NOW TO GIVE ME TIME TO DEAL WITH ALL THE CRAP AFTER HE DIED. AND HE DIDN’T WANT MY MOM UPSET SO I WASN’T TO TELL HER, BUT HE THOUGHT I SHOULD KNOW THE TRUTH. THAT HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO COULD TELL ME, BECAUSE MOM NEVER KNEW WHAT REALLY HAPPENED. BUT I HAD A RIGHT TO HEAR IT, AND HE DIDN’T WANT ME EVER BLAMING MOM BECAUSE ALL SHE’D EVER DONE – ALL EITHER OF THEM HAD EVER DONE – WAS LOVE ME. IF I WAS GOING TO BLAME ANYONE IT SHOULD BE THE PERSON WHO DESERVED IT.
YOU.
YOU’VE BEEN LYING TO ME. DON’T EVEN TRY TO DENY IT BECAUSE I KNOW. I KNOW THE TRUTH. NOT ALL OF IT, NOT ALL THE DETAILS, BUT ENOUGH. THE SMELL AND THE PISS AND THE DIRT. I KNOW. YOU HEAR THAT?
I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.
* * *
Adam Fawley
29 October
08.35
‘So that’s where we are. I’m not happy about it and I doubt any of you are either, but sometimes this job just isn’t black and white.’
It’s a grey Monday all round. In here as much as outside, where low cloud has settled into an insistent spitty drizzle. Some towns manage to wear rain well; trust me, Oxford isn’t one of them.
‘I still don’t understand why she didn’t say any of this years ago,’ says Ev.
‘Bloody waste of time, the whole sodding thing,’ mutters Quinn.
‘Yes,’ counters Ev, turning to him, ‘but most of all, hers. All those years inside – and for nothing?’
‘She claims,’ I say, ‘that she didn’t want the child taken from its adoptive parents.’
Baxter makes a face. ‘Even if you buy that – and she doesn’t strike me as that altruistic, in fact quite the bloody opposite – surely she could have said something once the kid got older? He was legally an adult at eighteen, that was over two years ago.’
‘I know. Yet again, it makes no sense. But what else can we do? Her story tallies with Renee Seidler’s, and she knew things about them that she couldn’t possibly have found out any other way, including what Renee looked like back then –’
‘And we’re absolutely sure, are we, that she hadn’t been in touch with Noah?’ says Quinn. ‘Because that makes a damn sight more sense to me –’
‘DC Carter checked. When we were at Heathside.’
Not an answer calculated to appease Quinn. He turns to Carter. ‘And what did they say – precisely?’
Carter starts a little. ‘Just what the boss said – that as far as they were aware, Rowan doesn’t get letters from people she knows, just sad losers with nothing better to do –’
‘Did they remember anything from the States?’
Carter shakes his head. ‘I did ask, but there’s no one person who handles the post so it’s hard to pin down. But she did say no one had mentioned anything.’
‘“She” being –?’
He glances at his notebook. ‘Prison Officer Andrea Sullivan.’ He looks up. ‘She was trying to help, but there wasn’t much more she could do – prison letters don’t have to have the sender’s address on the envelope and they don’t read all of them anyway.’
Quinn frowns. ‘What about outgoing mail?’
‘Same story,’ shrugs Carter. ‘Not as far as anyone could remember –’
‘Did you ask them to search Rowan’s cell?’
Carter blinks, glances at me. ‘Er –’
Time for me to intervene. ‘I’m not sure there’d have been much point, Sergeant. If Noah did write to Rowan, she’s hardly likely to have kept it – it’d be far too incriminating.’
Quinn’s frown deepens. ‘But –’
‘And as far as I’m concerned we’ve done as much as humanly possible to establish whether there was any such letter and come up with nothing. You can only go so far trying to prove a negative.’
Silence.
‘So what happens next?’ asks Baxter.
‘Rowan will be released. Apparently, she could be out of Heathside as early as the end of this week.’
Ev makes a face. ‘And straight from there to a TV station.’
But Baxter’s shaking his head. ‘Nah. Not yet. She’ll want to negotiate a big fat fee for that.’
Quinn glances across. ‘How do you know she hasn’t done that already? She has enough bloody lawyers.’
The exchange is getting tetchy and, more to the point, pointless: whatever Rowan chooses to do – whatever mud she chooses to throw – there’s sod all any of us can do about it.
‘Let’s just concentrate on our jobs, shall we? The next one being to try to close the case on Richard Swann. The CPS still have some questions before they can make a decision on charging, specifically what exactly he did or did not know. So we’re going to have another go at getting some answers, now he’s had time to consider his position. Uniform are picking him up this morning.’ I look round. ‘Anyone have anything else? No? In that case, can you wrap up the rest of the paperwork on this one ASAP, please. No point in hanging around.’
* * *
The problem with Wytham is that whichever route you take there’s always a risk of the Tractor Factor. A twenty-minute journey can easily take you twice that, and more in a downpour. Which goes most of the way to explaining Ian Barnetson’s less than sunny mood as they finally signal to turn into Ock Lane.
‘I actually feel quite sorry for him,’ says Puttergill, breaking the silence. The rain’s coming down so hard they can barely see, even with the wipers on full speed.
‘Who? Swann?’
‘Right. I mean, poor old sod – must be tough finding out you killed your own grandson by mistake. Even if you did think he was dead already.’
‘We don’t know it was a mistake,’ says Barnetson darkly.
Puttergill glances across at him. ‘That’s what they told you? CID?’