The Whole Truth

Sebastian Young is already in reception when Somer gets there, looking for all the world like he’s come for a job interview in his light cotton suit and button-down shirt. Ev was apologetic about dragging her in on a Sunday, but frankly it was a relief. Anything to stop her thinking about where she was supposed to be this weekend. And why she isn’t. But she’s careful not to arrive at the station too early, because she can’t risk any small-talk time with Ev. She’s incredibly fond of her, and she knows how much she cares, but right now, she isn’t in the mood for confessions.

She isn’t in the mood for Dave King, either. Her heart plummets when she spots him at the coffee machine right outside CID. And the fact that it’s obvious what’s dragged him into the office on a Sunday doesn’t help. She’s been trying not to think about Fawley; she can’t believe he’s guilty of something so unimaginable, but she can’t square away the evidence either. It’s all too much, on top of everything else – Giles, the baby that wasn’t, the ultrasound –

King extracts a cup and presses the button, then looks at her with a nasty knowing smile.

‘I don’t suppose you’ll be seeing much of the boyfriend now then, all things considered?’

She stares at him; how the hell does he even know about Giles? What business is it –

He takes his cup and straightens up. ‘I mean, you could do a whole lot better than that. Even if he is a sodding DI.’ She glares at him and he lifts his hands, all innocence. ‘Just saying.’

‘You don’t know the first thing about him.’

He raises an eyebrow, evidently amused. ‘Ah, now that’s where you’re wrong. We worked a case or two together, back in the day.’ He takes a step closer. ‘I know a lot about that bastard – much more than you think –’

He has his coffee black, which is unfortunate, because it means the liquid is scalding as it hits his face, his eyes, his chest – splattering over the floor, running down his neck –

‘What was that for?’ he gasps, staggering back. ‘You fucking bitch – how fucking dare you – look at my fucking shirt –’

He’s shouting now, because she’s walking away. ‘You bitch – I’ll get you for this – you hear me? I’ll fucking get you for this –’

* * *

Alex Fawley looks at her watch again. Ten to four. Somewhere in her brain she registers Nell next door in the bathroom, sorting laundry, Gerry downstairs with the kids, one of the neighbour’s dogs barking. She checks her tablet, refreshes the page. Her fingertip leaves a damp mark across the screen.

* * *

[ARCHIVE TAPE OF BBC JOURNALIST, OUTSIDE THE OLD BAILEY, 20 DECEMBER 1999]

‘After a nine-week trial, Gavin Parrie, the so-called “Roadside Rapist”, was today sentenced to life for the rape and attempted rape of seven young women in the Oxford area. Judge Peter Healey described Parrie as “evil, unrepentant and depraved” and recommended he serve at least fifteen years. There was uproar in court as the sentence was announced, with Parrie’s family abusing both the judge and jury from the public gallery. As Parrie was led away, he shouted threats at the officer who had been instrumental in his arrest, saying he would “get him” and he and his family would “spend the rest of their lives watching their backs”. The officer in question, Detective Sergeant Adam Fawley, has received a commendation from the Thames Valley Chief Constable for the role he played in securing the conviction.’

[JOCELYN]

I wasn’t in court that day. I was still at college. But I do remember the case, and I remember thinking what sort of man could not only commit such terrible crimes against women, but then threaten the family of the man who’d helped convict him.