I reach out a hand to the boy, but he shrinks back and Alex says quickly, ‘It’s OK. He just needs a bit of space.’
She crouches down. ‘I’m going to carry you – is that OK?’
Apparently it is, because he offers no resistance, and the three of us make our way out to the car, where she straps him into the car seat I didn’t think we still had.
I was expecting him to react to the sound of the engine, but he seems remarkably unperturbed. As we pull out into the traffic I try to think of something to say. But Alex gets there first.
‘I wish I knew what to call him,’ she says. ‘We can’t call him “boy” or “child” all week.’
I shrug. ‘Hopefully Vicky will be able to speak to us in the next day or two. She’ll tell us his name.’
‘If she actually gave him one,’ says Alex, turning to look at the boy in the back. ‘If she’s so traumatized that she’s blocking the whole thing out, she may never have bonded with him at all. Giving a child a name, it’s all part of that – it’s how you signal your relationship. I think she’s in deep denial that he’s even hers. And, frankly, who can blame her – it must be tough, trying to love the child of your rapist –’
‘We don’t know that’s what happened, Alex. Not definitively. You’re a lawyer. You know better than to jump to those sorts of conclusions.’
It wasn’t meant to sound patronizing, but it does. Her eyes lock with mine a moment, but she’s the first to look away.
We grind to a halt as the traffic narrows to one lane. The roadworks on this stretch seem to have been going on for months.
‘You said “all week”.’
‘Sorry?’ she says.
‘Just now, you said we couldn’t call him “boy” all week. I thought it was just going to be for a few days.’
She’s not looking at me. ‘It will be. Probably. But with your parents coming –’
‘That’s next month –’
‘I think we should warn them, just in case.’
‘Warn?’
‘Don’t be difficult, Adam. You know very well what I mean.’
I do. I just wish I didn’t.
***
‘In the case of the young woman and child found in the cellar, all I can say at this stage is that enquiries are progressing.’
The press conference is packed and my general level of stress and irritation hasn’t been helped by the fact that I forgot we were holding this at the Kidlington media centre and only got here with ten minutes to spare. I look down the rows of faces and see a lot I don’t recognize. The nationals, no doubt; we haven’t had this much media interest since the Daisy Mason case. That was hardly surprising – an eight-year-old girl abducted from her own garden. But right now, the wheels are going round but I’ve run out of road. One of the hacks in the front row is muttering that he doesn’t know why we bothered getting them in here at all if that’s all we’ve got to tell them.
‘What about DNA?’ asks a woman at the back. ‘I can’t believe you still haven’t established who the father of that child is. I thought you could get results in a few hours these days?’
‘Testing has improved, certainly, but it still takes time. And DNA will only be able to tell us so much. We need to talk to the young woman herself, and she’s still not able to speak to us. I’m sure you can appreciate that she’s in a very distressed state.’
‘Have you got a pic yet?’ asks the man from the Oxford Mail. ‘The neighbours said you had one – that you were showing it to people and asking if anyone recognized her.’
‘We’re not releasing a photo at this time.’
‘Well, what about a bleeding name then? A shot of the kid? Something – anything?’
‘The investigation is at a critical stage. I’m sure you can appreciate –’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard it all before.’
‘OK,’ says the woman at the back. ‘What about this new appeal for witnesses in the Hannah Gardiner case? That means you’re linking the two, right?’
I open my mouth then close it again. What bloody appeal for witnesses?
‘If it’s slipped your mind, Inspector,’ she says, ‘I have the statement here.’ She smiles at me then scrolls down her tablet. ‘“Thames Valley Police are appealing for anyone who saw Hannah Gardiner on the morning of 24 June 2015, in the vicinity of Crescent Square, Oxford, to contact the incident room at St Aldate’s police station, especially if they saw her talking to anyone in the area.” Etc., etc., etc.’ She holds the tablet up. ‘This is from your team, I take it?’
‘Yes –’
‘So you are linking the cases. That means the body you found in that garden must be Hannah’s and that man Harper must be suspected of killing her. That’s right, isn’t it? I mean, I’m not missing something blindingly obvious here?’
‘I’m not in a position to comment –’
‘I read somewhere,’ says the old lag at the front, ‘that there was a dead raven buried with the body – some sort of pagan ritual thing. Care to comment, Inspector? Or is that something else you’re “not releasing”?’
‘Yes, I will happily comment on that. There has never been any connection whatsoever between satanism or paganism and the Hannah Gardiner case, and there isn’t one now.’
‘So was there a sodding bird or wasn’t there?’
The woman interrupts him. ‘So you are reopening the case,’ she says quickly. ‘We can quote you on that?’
‘We’re not reopening it because it was never closed –’
‘I’ll take that as a yes then.’
‘– and at this stage of the investigation we are not able to say any more than I’ve told you already. We owe it to the families of the victims –’
‘What about the family of the wrongly accused? What do you owe them, Detective Inspector Fawley?’
The voice comes from somewhere at the back. People turn to look as he gets to his feet, and a buzz starts as they recognize him.
Matthew Shore.
How the hell did he get in here?
‘So, do you have an answer for me? I mean, you were on the Hannah Gardiner case, weren’t you?’
‘This is a press conference, Mr Shore.’
‘And I’m a member of the press.’ He holds up a pass. ‘Look, it says so, right here. So I say again – and I think that’s the third time, incidentally – what about my father? What about a man you victimized and harassed, even though you had no evidence –’
I can feel Harrison’s stress levels rising; this is going out live on the BBC news channel, and the bloke from Sky has his phone out videoing it.
‘Look, Mr Shore, this is neither the time nor the place.’
‘So when exactly is the right bloody time and place? I’ve been trying to talk to Thames Valley Police for months – all I get is the brush-off.’
‘We never charged your father in relation to the Hannah Gardiner case. The sentence he served was for an entirely different offence.’
‘Yeah, but he’d never have even been convicted if his face hadn’t been all over the bloody papers for months, never mind getting three sodding years – there’s no way that was a fair trial –’
Harrison clears his throat. ‘That’s not something we can comment on, Mr Shore. You will have to take it up with the Crown Prosecution Service.’
‘And you think I haven’t?’ he says, sardonic. ‘They’re no better than you. There’s no justice in this bloody country – no bloody accountability. You all just clear up each other’s mess –’
Harrison gets to his feet. ‘Thank you very much, ladies and gentlemen. Further statements will be issued as appropriate. Good afternoon.’