The Whole Truth

by Hunter, Cara

  Gallagher fixes me with her cool grey stare. ‘What I think isn’t the issue. All I know is that faced with the evidence we’ve now obtained I have no alternative. I have to arrest you.’

  I can feel the sweat running down my back. I’m trying to make any sort of sense of this – get even the slightest purchase on it – but my brain is in freefall. And on and on in the background, the drone of Gallagher’s voice.

  ‘You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

  The words buckle in my throat. ‘I need to talk to my wife.’

  * * *

  Oxford Mail online

  Wednesday 11 July 2018 Last updated at 9:11

  BREAKING: Headington woman feared dead

  By Richard Yates

  A woman reported missing yesterday is feared to have lost her life in an incident on the railway line just outside Oxford station, in the early hours of Tuesday morning. Police were contacted early yesterday after the Headington resident, named locally as Emma Smith, 44, failed to turn up at her place of work. Shortly thereafter the connection was made with a fatality near Walton Well bridge, which is believed to have occurred at around 1.25 a.m.

  Ms Smith was a long-serving employee of the Oxford City Council Adoption and Fostering Service, and had worked at their Iffley Road offices for nearly ten years. Colleagues are said to be ‘heartbroken’. ‘She was such a lovely person,’ said one. ‘She was dedicated to her job, and worked tirelessly to find loving new homes and families for children in need. She will be desperately missed.’

  No official comment has been made about the circumstances surrounding the incident at Walton Well bridge, but Thames Valley Police have confirmed that a statement will be issued in due course.

  24 comments

  Bradybunch1818

  How terribly sad – sounds like she gave so much to other people, and yet didn’t get the help she needed herself. Happens so often. Please don’t forget there are people to help – your GP or organisations like the Samaritans

  45641JaneyFitch

  Friends of mine used that adoption service and they said all the staff were amazing. Overworked and under-resourced like all these things are these days. Perhaps we should put some of that £350m of EU money into places like that.

  Gail_Mallory_Marston

  What a dreadful thing to happen – sending #thoughtsandprayers to her family and friends

  Commuter anger as railway works continue to cause delays and cancellations

  Track improvements and signalling work on the line north of Oxford continue to cause headaches for rail passengers … /more

  The big Brexit debate – where do local MPs stand?

  Didcot and Cholsey MP Petra Newson has been vocal in her support of Theresa May’s deal, but other Oxfordshire MPs are more ambivalent … /more

  Doorstep scammers swindle local pensioner

  An elderly Cowley resident was swindled out of over £1,000 by con artists claiming to be ‘from the council’ … /more

  Fears for more ancient trees as heatwave takes its toll

  After severe damage to a much-loved almond tree outside the University Church, conservationists have warned that others may be at risk … /more

  ‘Swan uppers’ to sail into Abingdon

  The annual pageant of ‘swan upping’ will be coming to Oxfordshire on July 20th … /more

  * * *

  Adam Fawley

  11 July 2018

  10.04

  ‘Alex.’

  She’s lying on our bed, the windows open, the curtains barely moving.

  There must be something in my voice because she opens her eyes and starts to sit up. ‘What is it? Are you OK?’

  I take a step forward. ‘Look, this is going to sound insane – it is insane – but Ruth Gallagher is downstairs.’

  She frowns. ‘Ruth? But why –’

  ‘They’ve arrested me.’

  ‘What do you mean, arrested? Arrested for what?’

  ‘For murder.’

  Her eyes widen. ‘They think you killed someone? But –’

  ‘Not “someone”. Emma. They think I killed Emma.’

  ‘I don’t believe it.’

  Her voice is very small and very far away.

  There’s a noise outside and the door opens. King, in that trendy bloody suit of his, looking as chipper as I’ve ever seen him. And when he stares at my wife, pregnant, vulnerable, beautiful, there’s no mistaking the sneer on his face and I have to work very, very hard not to land my fist right in the middle of it.

  I move forward quickly and crouch down beside her. ‘You have to believe me – I did not do this.’

  I can hear King making impatient noises behind me, but I cling on to her hands, force her to look at me. Because this is the moment. The moment she decides. She’s a lawyer; she’s married to a detective. She knows people don’t get arrested on a whim, especially not police officers.

  ‘Look,’ I say quickly, dropping my voice. ‘I went to see Emma –’

  She frowns. ‘What? When?’

  I swallow. ‘That night.’ She opens her mouth to say something but I don’t let her. There isn’t time. ‘She wanted some advice, that’s all. She thought she was being stalked. That must be why they think – there must be DNA at the flat –’

  King’s hand is on my shoulder now. ‘That’s enough. Time to go.’

  I shake him off. ‘There’ll be a search team here soon. Don’t panic – it’s just routine – just let them do what they need to do. But when they’ve finished, I want you to go to your sister’s –’

  ‘No,’ she says quickly, ‘I want to be here – for you –’

  I’m shaking my head. ‘It’ll make no difference – they won’t let you see me. This is going to be shitty enough – I don’t want to be worrying about you. I want to know you’re safe, OK? With them. So will you do that – for me?’

  She bites her lip, then nods.

  ‘I’ll call as soon as I can and let you know where they’ve taken me.’

  Because it won’t be St Aldate’s, that I do know.

  She nods again. Her eyes are filling with tears. I put my hand gently to her cheek, and then quickly, out of that bastard’s line of sight, to her belly. And then I stand up.

  ‘OK, King,’ I say.

  * * *

  The atmosphere in CID had been pretty glacial first thing, and when Ev goes out for a coffee, it takes a certain amount of determination to force herself out of the sunshine and back into an overheated and airless St Aldate’s. But it only takes a glance round the office to see that something’s changed. When she left, people were staring resolutely at their screens, pretending to be busy, avoiding each other’s eyes. But not now. The room is silent, but it’s the silence after a meteor hit. The silence of shared catastrophe.

  ‘What is it? What’s happened?’

  Somer looks up and sees her. Her face is pale.

  ‘Fawley’s been arrested.’

  ‘What?’

  Ev holds her breath, waiting for someone to start laughing, tell her it’s just a joke – ‘Ha, got you, sucker’ – but all she sees is Asante’s bleak stare, Baxter’s scowl.

  ‘Arrested – for what, for Christ’s sake?’

  ‘For murder,’ says Somer quietly. ‘For murdering Emma Smith.’

  Ev looks across at Quinn. Quinn, who said there was something off about the whole case, who said Fawley had something to hide. He meets her eye, shrugs, but says nothing. Seems this time even he doesn’t think he needs to rub it in.

  ‘Christ,’ breathes Ev. ‘But then surely –’

  She never gets the chance to finish. Behind her, the door opens and a moment later she finds herself face to face with Gislingham. He has a tan and a big wide holiday smile.

  Then he stops in his tracks and stares around.

  ‘Jesus – did somebody die?�
�

  * * *

  Adam Fawley

  11 July 2018

  11.35

  It’s the Newbury station they opt for. Close enough for convenience; far enough for there to be a reasonable chance no one will recognize me. More than reasonable since, to be honest, I can’t even remember the last time I set foot in here. We usually try to process fellow officers with some degree of discretion, but King must have trumpeted our arrival because I can’t believe it’s usually this crowded on a hot summer afternoon. There’s a ripple of ‘casual’ glances as we parade in, King’s hand gripped around my upper arm just so no one’s in any doubt who’s in charge here, and a low-level buzz starts up as we stand at the desk. But I guess it’s no surprise there are rubberneckers; a DI in detention makes for one hell of a car crash.

  The sergeant on duty is playing to the crowd too, labouring over the custody record like it’s the first time he’s ever seen one of the bloody things.

  He glances up. ‘I’ll be needing your mobile too.’

  ‘Not till after I’ve called my wife.’

  ‘You won’t be doing it from that phone, matey. It’s police property.’

  ‘I promised I’d tell her where I am. She’s pregnant – this is the last thing she needs –’

  He raises an eyebrow. He might as well have said it out loud: Well, whose bloody fault is that?

  He holds out his hand. I drag the mobile out of my jacket and slide it across the counter.

  It’s starting to hit home, just how much power I’m losing. Over my life, my movements, even my damn phone. Right now, I can’t even take a piss without asking permission. You get used to being in control in this job, and the higher up you go the worse it gets. You lose the knack for subservience too, assuming you ever had it. It strikes me suddenly that I’ve become a walking cliché. Getting a dose of my own medicine, seeing it from the other side of the fence, going a mile in someone else’s shoes. Only trouble is, these shoes are the sort that come with prison fatigues.

  When I turn, King is three inches from my face. He’s smiling. I can see his teeth.

  * * *

  ‘Mrs Fawley?’

  The man holds out his warrant card. She doesn’t recognize him. Definitely not one of Adam’s. He’s thin, tentative, slightly embarrassed.

  ‘DC Farrow,’ he says, holding the card out a little further. ‘Can we come in?’

  There’s a van parked further down the street.

  A white one.

  She feels a cold surge of fear. Only this time, it’s different.

  This time she knows who’s inside.

  * * *

  Interview with Adam Fawley, conducted at Thames Valley Police Station, Mill Lane, Newbury

  11 July 2018, 12.30 p.m.

  In attendance, DI R. Gallagher, DS D. King, Mrs P. McHugh (solicitor)

  RG: Interview commenced at 12.30. Those present are DI Ruth Gallagher, DS David King, DI Adam Fawley. DI Fawley has been cautioned and is now accompanied by his solicitor, Mrs Penelope McHugh. Perhaps we could begin by having your account of the events of Monday night, 9th July 2018. You have previously admitted that you went to Emma Smith’s flat – what time was that?

  AF: Around 9 p.m.

  RG: And I believe that immediately before that you had been at your gym?

  AF: At Headington Health and Leisure, yes. I would have left at about 8.45. I’m sure you’ll be able to confirm that.

  RG: Did you change at the gym before you left?

  AF: No, I was running a bit late so I went straight to Ms Smith’s.

  RG: So you were wearing –?

  AF: A T-shirt and shorts. Trainers.

  RG: What colour T-shirt?

  AF: A white one.

  RG: I see. And you still maintain that you went to Shrivenham Close at Ms Smith’s request?

  AF: I don’t ‘maintain’ it – it’s what happened. I saw her in St Aldate’s earlier that day and she asked me to go round.

  PM: Given the location, I imagine there will be CCTV corroborating this.

  RG: We will, of course, look into that. And was this meeting in St Aldate’s accidental? She just happened to be there?

  AF: No, she’d made a special trip up from the Iffley Road in her lunch hour. She wanted my advice. She said that it wouldn’t take very long, so I offered to drop in on my way back home.

  DK: Did she tell you what she wanted to talk about?

  AF: No. As I explained before, I only saw Ms Smith for a few moments then. I didn’t find out what the problem was until that night, when I went to the flat.

  RG: So you arrived at about 9.00 p.m. How long did you stay?

  AF: About half an hour.

  DK: And what happened during those thirty minutes?

  AF: Again, as I’ve said before, we talked about the stalker –

  DK: Nothing else?

  AF: No –

  DK: No small talk at all? Not even about your wife? They were friends, weren’t they?

  AF: Ms Smith asked after my wife, very briefly, when I arrived. But that wasn’t why I was there.

  RG: So what course did the conversation take?

  AF: She talked me through what had been happening – specific incidents – dates and times –

  DK: She’d kept a record?

  AF: Informally, yes. But it was more like a diary. It wasn’t something she was happy to hand over.

  RG: For the record, no such diary has been retrieved from Ms Smith’s flat.

  AF: Well, it was there that night – it was on the coffee table.

  DK: When she went through these dates – did you make notes?

  AF: No. When I got out my notebook she got nervous and asked me not to write anything down. She wasn’t ready to make an official complaint.

  DK: So we only have your word for it.

  AF: As I said, she didn’t want to escalate things –

  DK: So as I said, we only have your word for it. Because no one else seems to know anything about this ‘alleged’ stalker of yours.

  AF: I can’t speak to that. I only know what she said to me. And as we’ve since discovered, a man called Hugh Cleland had recently had an altercation with her, and could well have taken it further.

  RG: Again, for the record, Hugh Cleland’s fingerprints have not been found anywhere in Ms Smith’s flat.

  PM: What about his DNA?

  RG: Samples have been taken from him. We await the results.

  PM: Does he have an alibi for the night in question?

  RG: Enquiries are ongoing, that’s all I can say at this stage.

  DK: [to Fawley]

  So, if Smith thought Cleland might be stalking her, why didn’t she tell her boss? Her colleagues?

  AF: She told me she’d never seen the man’s face. She may have been wary of accusing Cleland until she had proof it was definitely him.

  DK: What about her family and friends? She could have talked to them.

  AF: My impression was that she was a very private person –

  DK: Private or not, I find it odd. Very odd. Especially since, according to her parents, Ms Smith had already had a similar experience some years before.

  AF: She said nothing about that to me.

  DK: Someone who’d had an experience like that, surely they’d be very unlikely to keep it to themselves if they thought it was happening again.

  AF: As I’ve already explained, I’m not in a position to speculate about Ms Smith’s behaviour. She was my wife’s friend. I barely knew her.

  DK: You knew her well enough to have a drink with her.

  AF: She offered me a glass of wine. It seemed churlish to refuse.

  DK: How much did she drink?

  AF: In my presence, just over a glass.

  DK: The PM suggested she’d had rather more than that.

  PM: There’s no way of ascertaining precisely when Ms Smith consumed the alcohol identified at the autopsy. DI Fawley can only comment on what happened in his presence.

  DK: So sh
e’d had a bit to drink, she’s upset, so, what? You put an arm round her?

  AF: No.

  DK: Give her some comfort?

  AF: No.

  DK: After all, she’s been through a break-up, she’s vulnerable –

  AF: No.

  DK: She’s an attractive woman, your wife is pregnant, it’s easy to see how one thing could have led to another –

  AF: It didn’t happen. And I deeply resent your reference to my wife –

  DK: Perhaps Smith went along with it to start with – perhaps that’s why you thought she was OK with it. Perhaps she was the one who initiated it – maybe she’d fancied you for years, who knows. Only then suddenly she’s changing her mind – trying to push you off –

  AF: [shaking his head]

  DK: And now she’s struggling, starting to scream the place down –

  AF: No. No no no –

  DK: You get your hand over her mouth – anything to shut her up –

  AF: I did not touch her at any point and she was alive and well when I left.

  DK: You didn’t kill her –

  AF: No.

  DK: You didn’t rape her –

  AF: No.

  DK: You didn’t even have consensual sex with her –

  AF: No. Absolutely not.

  RG: [slides across a sheet of paper]

  This is a copy of the forensics report which we received earlier this morning. The lab has isolated a quantity of male DNA in relation to the Smith case. And it’s not Hugh Cleland’s.

  PM: But I thought you said you were still waiting for his DNA results?

  RG: We’re awaiting his results, yes. But this isn’t his. We know that for a fact because it’s a perfect match for someone else. Specifically, to a sample stored for elimination purposes in the police national database.

  AF: I was at the flat. Of course my DNA is there.

  RG: I’m not talking about what they found at the flat. I’m talking about what they found on the body.

  AF: What?

  RG: It’s very simple. Your DNA was found on Emma Smith’s body. Perhaps you could explain that for us.

  AF: It must be a mistake.

  [pause]

  The only thing I can think of is that there was some sort of accidental contact – perhaps our hands touched when she gave me the wine.