she didn’t, she just said not to go into work –’
‘Well, as far as I’m concerned, that means bed rest. And that’s exactly what you’re going to get.’
She laughs. ‘OK, you win. As long as it involves tea, chocolate and unlimited supplies of fruit toast.’
‘I’ll even throw in a hot-water bottle. Not literally, of course.’
We’re at the car now and I stop and turn her to me.
She looks as brittle as a porcelain doll.
* * *
Interview with Kenneth Ashwin, conducted at St Aldate’s Police Station, Oxford
3 April 2018, 1.25 p.m.
In attendance, DC G. Quinn
GQ: Take a seat, Mr Ashwin. As I said, this is just routine.
KA: I’ve seen the telly. I know what that means.
GQ: [passes across an image]
Last Monday morning, April 1st 2018, the minivan shown in this still was picked up on the CCTV camera outside the petrol station on the Cherwell Drive roundabout. It’s a hire vehicle, and when we spoke to the company they said you were driving it that day.
KA: That’s right, I was. My brother was moving house so I was giving him a hand.
GQ: So what were you doing there that morning?
KA: When was it again? Exactly?
GQ: [becoming impatient]
Last Monday. Two days ago. Like I just said.
KA: Nope. Don’t think that was me.
GQ: It’s the same reg number as the van you hired.
KA: I can’t help that.
GQ: [checks paperwork]
You live in Barton, don’t you?
KA: [warily]
Yeah, so?
GQ: So you might have been coming into the city?
KA: I suppose so. I did pick up some bits and pieces that morning –
GQ: So it could be you, after all – is that what you’re saying?
KA: It’s possible, yes. But I don’t remember.
GQ: OK, Mr Ashwin, I think that’s enough for now.
* * *
Adam Fawley
3 April 2018
13.39
‘Boss? It’s Quinn.’
It’s just started to rain, and the traffic is slowing to a haul. Beside me, Alex is hunched against the misted-up car window, staring out.
I pull the phone from its hands-free. Alex would normally bollock me for doing that while I’m driving but she barely seems to notice. She’s hardly spoken since we left the doctor’s.
‘Boss – you there?’
‘Yes, what is it?’
‘Sorry to bother you, but no one knew where you were.’
‘I had to go home briefly, that’s all. What do you want?’
‘Just thought you’d want to know. I tracked down the people who hired those self-drives. One was a woman of sixty who was moving some stuff for her church, which the vicar confirmed.’
God as alibi. Not bad. ‘And the other?’
‘Bloke of fifty-nine, but I reckon he’s a non-starter.’
‘Why – did he have a good reason for being there?’
‘No, because one) he’s about eighteen stone and needed a winch to get him out of the sodding chair, and two) he’s effing pond life. Sorry but the bloke’s dead from the neck up. Jesus, I ended up wanting to eat my own hands –’
‘Doesn’t mean he’s not guilty, Quinn – you know as well as I do –’
‘Seriously, boss, he’d have to be Benedict sodding Cumberbatch to fake it that well.’
I take a deep breath; Quinn’s a lazy sod but he has good instincts. Despite himself, sometimes. ‘OK, but don’t lose sight of him. Stupidity isn’t a defence. Nor is being tedious.’
Alex glances across and I smile at her. It’s just routine. Nothing for her to worry about. But isn’t that what she keeps telling me?
I return to Quinn. ‘Anything – you know – online?’
Quinn realizes suddenly that I have someone with me. That I can’t spell it out.
‘Oh, right. No. Baxter’s been trawling some of those forums that target trans people but nothing doing yet. Though you wouldn’t believe the poison those shits spew out – I only had a quick look but Jesus Christ. Baxter says he’s never wanted a hot shower so much in his entire life.’
I did a training day once, with the Child Exploitation and Online Protection Command. Hats off to the people who do that sort of work but I felt contaminated for days. I couldn’t even look at photos of my own son without seeing other children’s faces, other children’s bodies superimposed on his.
But I don’t want that thought. Especially not now. Even allowing it into my mind feels like a betrayal, a dark jinx over the coming child.
I put the phone down and turn to Alex, who sits back in her seat and reaches for my hand.
‘Everything’s fine,’ I say gently. ‘Let’s just get you home.’
* * *
Phone call with Julia Davidson, head teacher, Wellington College, Carlisle Road, Basingstoke
3 April 2018,