of the photo. “Can you tell me the size of the bruises?”
He turned the file around so that it was facing Ingrid. “You can see for yourself. This photograph has recorded the injuries at life size.”
Ingrid studied the purple and red marks on Molly’s pale arms. “These are finger marks caused by pressure applied to the flesh?”
“They are indeed.” The professor glanced at the clock on the wall.
“Wouldn’t you say the finger marks were a little small for a man’s hands?”
Radcliffe, who had previously been leaning back in his chair, sat forward to get a better look at the photograph.
“It’s impossible for me to form an opinion—after all, I don’t know the size of the suspect’s hands. Perhaps his fingers are abnormally small.”
“As far as I can recall, Kyle Foster is average height, average weight.” She looked directly at the DCI. “Surely if there were anything abnormal about his hands you would have been made aware of it?”
Radcliffe thought about it for a moment. “The crime scene manager will compare the injuries with Foster’s fingerprints in due course.”
Ingrid was amazed it hadn’t been done already. But then there was no doubt in Radcliffe’s mind that Kyle Foster was responsible for his daughter’s injuries. Why should there be? All the evidence pointed to Foster. Why would he question the testimony of a distraught mother when the case seemed so cut and dried?
Glynde was looking at the clock again. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve had to cut this meeting short, but I’m sure Dr Ryland will arrive any moment. Perhaps you could speak to him in the café downstairs?” He stood up.
Reluctantly, Ingrid got to her feet only after Radcliffe had slowly risen from his chair. She could see he was pissed at being asked to leave.
Glynde led them to the door just as a man on the other side opened it.
“Ah… Geoff! I’m afraid I can’t stick around. Do you mind taking the reins?”
Ingrid and Radcliffe exchanged an uneasy glance: if anyone was in control it should be one of them.
“Not at all, Roger. Only too pleased to help. It’s why I’m here, after all.” He turned to Ingrid and Radcliffe.
“You’ll have to introduce yourselves. My apologies.” Glynde ushered them out of his office, firmly closely the door and then herded them through the outer room and into the corridor beyond. He then practically sprinted away.
“It’s all go!” Glynde’s colleague stuck out a hand. “Geoff Ryland, at your service.” Ryland’s appearance was the opposite of Glynde’s. He was balding, bearded, gray-skinned and tieless.
Radcliffe quickly introduced himself and Ingrid. He clearly wanted to ensure Ryland knew exactly who was leading the investigation.
“You work here at UCH?” Ingrid asked.
“Did my training here. But no—I’m based at King’s College now—the college itself rather than the hospital. I’m involved purely in research these days.” He gave Ingrid a sad smile. “Now, Roger tells me you want to discuss shaken baby syndrome.” He let out a sigh. “Not that we should call it that, of course. That particular theory has been widely discredited. And my reputation along with it.”
38
Rather than have their meeting in the café within the hospital, Dr Ryland suggested they adjourn to a nearby pub. “It is practically lunchtime,” he said, as he led them across Tottenham Court Road and down a side street leading to an area that Ingrid had discovered had been dubbed “NoHo” a few years ago.
Once they’d found the pub and Ryland had ordered beer battered fish with thick-cut French fries, a pint of bitter and two orange juices from the bar, they all headed for a corner seat of the large dining area. Ingrid sat down next to Ryland on the dubiously stained upholstery while Radcliffe pulled up a low wooden stool from a nearby table.
“So, little Molly Foster,” Ryland said and gulped down a few mouthfuls of beer. “Such a tragic case.”
“Professor Glynde suggested you were quite an expert in the field,” Ingrid said.
“Certainly I was. As I mentioned before, the subject has been quite controversial over the years. In the mid-2000s a number of cases went to appeal and the original convictions were overturned. Which reflected very badly on me, unfortunately.”
“How?”
“I was an expert witness for the prosecution. All the evidence I provided was scientifically sound at the time. But the science itself changed in the intervening years.”
Ingrid wondered just how reliable Ryland’s opinion was now. Were they wasting their time talking to a doctor about a discredited theory?
“The Crown Prosecution Service changed its guidance on the