by Hunter, Cara
‘The other lady you spoke to – Erica – she said you’ve been doing this in the last few days, is that right?’
A slow nod.
‘The red is fantastic. Really scary. Why did you choose that colour?’
No response.
‘Have you seen one like it before somewhere?’
Another nod this time. But he’s still not looking at her.
‘When was that, Tobin?’ she asks softly.
‘Caleb has one. On his back.’
‘I see. Do you remember when you saw it?’
The boy puts his forehead against his knees. His hair falls forward and she has to edge closer to hear.
‘It was in the kitchen.’
‘The other night? When he was babysitting?’
He nods. ‘I came down to get a drink.’
‘I see. And what did you see – in the kitchen?’
There’s no answer. She reaches a tentative hand but he shakes her away.
In the room next door, they’re holding their breath. It’s 50/50 whether she decides she can’t push him any further, even though he’s on the brink –
When he does speak it’s barely more than a whisper, and they can see, even on the video screen, that he’s started to cry.
‘I don’t like Caleb any more. He hurt my mummy. I’m going to kill him. I’m going to kill him with a big sword like George and the dragon.’
* * *
‘So what’ve you got?’
Dave King is hovering behind Farrow, staring over his shoulder at the screen. He’s shifting from one foot to the other, fizzy with nervous energy.
Farrow glances back. ‘We’ve verified what time DI Fawley left the Headington gym from the cameras in their car park. It was 8.43. And he was definitely wearing a white T-shirt and dark shorts, just like the witness in Shrivenham Close saw.’
‘Yeah,’ says King, ‘but he’s admitting he went over there, so that’s no sodding use. His brief’ll crap all over that. What else?’
‘We’ve also checked out the route from the gym to Smith’s house, but it’s all residential – no ANPR, no CCTV, nothing.’
‘For fuck’s sake –’ begins King.
‘DC Jenkins also went up and drove it, and it took twelve minutes, which means the timings Fawley gave us tally. So that’s something.’
‘No it fucking isn’t,’ says King. ‘All that is is three steps forward, two steps back.’
‘I’m also checking on ANPR for the Clelands’ Honda –’
King straightens up. ‘I thought I told you to drop that shit.’
Farrow flushes. ‘But surely we still need to eliminate him –’
‘No,’ says King, his own colour rising now, ‘we don’t. There is no forensic evidence whatsoever linking that tosser to this crime, and there’s a whole truckload putting Fawley right in the middle of it.’ He stares at Farrow. ‘If you’re having problems coming to terms with that, I’d be happy to look into a transfer –’
‘No,’ says Farrow quickly. ‘No. No need for that, boss. I’m onside. Totally onside.’
* * *
‘And where were they – your mummy and Caleb – when he was hurting her?’
The little boy sits up. He sniffs and wipes his hand across his eyes. It’s hard to know what’s suddenly changed, but something has.
‘By the sink. Mummy was at the sink and Caleb was behind her, pushing her. She looked funny.’
‘Really? What sort of funny?’
He shrugs. ‘I dunno. Floppy. Like she was sleepy.’
‘And Caleb had his shirt completely off?’
He stares at her, then shakes his head.
‘So it had just slipped down? That’s how you saw the tattoo?’
He nods.
‘What about your mummy? Did she have her clothes on?’
He looks away. ‘Her dress was pulled up. Like when she goes to the toilet.’
‘Did your mummy see you, Tobin?’ asks the officer gently. ‘Did either she or Caleb know you were there?’
* * *
‘Jesus,’ says Quinn, staring at the screen. ‘As if this wasn’t complicated enough already.’
Ev looks dismayed. ‘I can’t see how an eight-year-old could come up with a story like that unless he’d really seen it.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ says Baxter, ‘so they had sex. But how do we know it wasn’t just consensual –’
‘Seriously?’ says Somer. ‘How clear does it have to be?’ She looks pale – so pale Ev is surprised she bothered coming in today at all.
Gis looks round at the rest of the team. ‘Somer’s right. Looks like a crime was committed that night. But the victim wasn’t Morgan. It was Fisher.’
* * *
‘They didn’t see me,’ says the little boy sulkily. ‘I ran away.’
‘Back up to your room?’
He nods.
‘And that’s on the top floor, isn’t it?’
Another nod.
The officer checks something in her file. ‘But Mummy’s room is somewhere else, I think. On the floor below?’
No response this time.
‘So you probably didn’t hear her go to bed, then?’
He looks away and mumbles something. She asks him gently to say it again and eventually he does.
‘I was under my bed.’
‘What were you doing there, Tobin?’
He looks down; his lip is trembling. ‘I was hiding.’
* * *
‘But if Morgan raped her, why isn’t she saying so?’ says Quinn. ‘Why doesn’t she accuse him? In fact, why didn’t she do that right from the start?’
‘Because she can’t remember,’ says Ev quietly. ‘Because Morgan slipped her something.’
Asante nods. ‘Classic date-rape MO: she’s a bit tipsy already, he makes sure he pours the drinks. And sparkling wine is the predator’s best friend. The bubbles disguise the drug.’
‘The lab didn’t find anything –’ begins Baxter.
‘They wouldn’t,’ says Asante. ‘If it was GHB, it would have metabolized too quickly to register, even in a full tox screen. That’s why those bastards choose it in the first place.’
There’s a silence.
‘Might be worth noting,’ says Quinn eventually, ‘that Morgan made sure to rinse those champagne glasses afterwards. Either he had something to hide or he’s going to make someone a lovely wife one of these days.’
Somer shoots him a fierce look, but he just ignores her.
Baxter turns towards Everett. ‘You’ve done the sexual offences training, Ev. Wouldn’t Fisher have realized the following morning if she’d been raped?’
Ev takes a deep breath. ‘Not necessarily – a lot of victims don’t. Not if the rapist uses a condom and is careful not to leave any marks. And if nothing looks wrong the following morning.’
‘Like Fisher’s dress being hung up and her shoes tidied away,’ says Asante grimly.
‘Right. Exactly.’
‘Tobin was frightened, though,’ says Somer quietly. ‘Frightened enough to hide.’
Baxter folds his arms. ‘But even if you’re right, where does that leave us? Are we seriously planning to rock up to the CPS and say, “Actually, guys, we’ve changed our minds. We now think he might have raped her but all we have to go on is the word of a slightly weird eight-year-old kid backed up by absolutely no hard evidence at all”? Hands up anyone who thinks they’re going to buy that.’
No one moves.
He shrugs. ‘There you are then. They’d laugh us out of the bloody building.’
Asante frowns. ‘It’s worse than that. Not only do we have no evidence that he raped her, what we do have points in exactly the opposite direction: her assaulting him.’
‘Fisher had already showered,’ begins Ev, ‘so that was always going to cause a problem with the forensics –’
‘No,’ he says quickly. ‘I’m not talking about that, I’m talking about Morgan. He had her DNA in his groin area, but nothing on his penis. E
ven if he used a condom there’d be more there than we found.’
‘Right,’ says Quinn. ‘If he really did rape her, he’d have had her all over him.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ says Ev, ‘but it wouldn’t have been beyond the wit of bloke to find a flannel, now would it? Even rugby players wash.’
Quinn looks sceptical. ‘While keeping her DNA intact on his hands? That’s not so easy.’
Ev shrugs. ‘Rubber gloves?’
But Quinn’s still not convinced. ‘So he rapes her, goes to a hell of a lot of trouble to make sure she won’t remember it, but then goes out of his way to draw attention to himself – and cause himself no end of shit – by reporting her for attempted assault? What’s all that about?’
‘I think you’re right,’ says Gislingham. ‘There’s something else going on here – something we’re not seeing.’
Somer looks up, a frown darkening her face. ‘Maybe we just haven’t been asking the right questions.’
‘OK,’ says Gis slowly, ‘well, now’s our chance. Marina Fisher’s in the room down the hall.’
* * *
Interview with Marina Fisher, conducted at Kidlington Witness Suite, Oxford
13 July 2018, 12.15 p.m.
In attendance, DS C. Gislingham, DC V. Everett, Ms N. Kennedy (solicitor)
CG: Interview commenced at 12.15, Friday 13th July. This is the third interview in connection with the sexual assault allegations made by Caleb Morgan. I should remind you that you are still under caution. For the purposes of the recording, Professor Fisher’s son, Tobin, has just been interviewed by a specialist Thames Valley officer. During this interview, Tobin was asked about the night of July 6th. He says he saw you in the kitchen, Professor Fisher. With Caleb Morgan.
MF: What do you mean he ‘saw’ us?
CG: The description is consistent with the two of you having sex.
MF: But I told you –
CG: That you couldn’t remember, I know. Well, there might be a reason for that. The way Tobin described it, Morgan may have given you some sort of date-rape drug. That would account for your lack of recall.
MF: [gasps and turns away]
CG: Tobin also said he thought Morgan was hurting you. Though that may just have been down to him not understanding what he was seeing –
MF: [begins to sob]
But I’d have known – the following morning, I’d have known –
NK: [quietly, to her client]
Not necessarily. Not if he used protection.
CG: So on that basis –
NK: [interrupting]
Can’t you just give her a moment, for heaven’s sake?
[silence]
VE: Professor Fisher, we do understand how hard this must be, but what Tobin said – it could change everything.
MF: [struggling for composure]
OK.
[pause]
OK.
NK: Are you sure? You don’t have to do this right now –
MF: No – I want to. I want to get this over with and take my son home.
NK: [turning to the officers]
OK, so what exactly did Tobin say?
VE: He said Professor Fisher looked ‘floppy’ and ‘sleepy’. That’s why we believe she could have been administered with some sort of date-rape drug, possibly in the champagne.
[to Fisher]
Do you remember if you were watching when Mr Morgan poured it?
MF: No, he had his back to me. I didn’t think anything of it at the time.
CG: I see. We’ve already checked the bottle and glasses, but there was no trace of such a substance in either. Nor was anything detected in your toxicology screen, which, as you no doubt realize, is going to make it almost impossible to prove.
NK: Why am I not surprised –
CG: Having heard what your son said, is there anything else you can recall about that night? Perhaps something that may not have seemed relevant before?
MF: No. I’m sorry. I’ve already told you everything I can remember.
VE: If Morgan hadn’t used such a substance before he might not have realized how long it would take to take effect, especially as you’d had a heavy meal. That could account for the scratches – he might have started to assault you before you were fully sedated, and you attempted to defend yourself. Are you sure you don’t remember anything like that?
MF: [hangs her head]
No.
CG: If you were given such a drug, it would of course throw a very different light on the subsequent accusation made against you. Do you know why Mr Morgan would have made such an allegation, that being the case?
NK: Isn’t it obvious? He wanted to cover up his own criminal behaviour by turning the tables on my client.
CG: That’s one explanation. But there may be others. Revenge, perhaps? Is there any motive at all that you can think of?
MF: [despairing]
No, absolutely nothing. I always thought we got on very well. I’ve gone out of my way to support him –
NK: Are you proposing to charge Morgan?
CG: Clearly we have yet to interview him about this –
NK: You were quick enough to arrest Marina. No wonder Tobin’s been having nightmares – he saw his mother being raped –
* * *
‘Blimey, he doesn’t do things by halves, does he? Must be nice having parents who can afford to call in a whole platoon.’
Gislingham and Quinn are back at St Aldate’s, watching as Caleb Morgan and his lawyers are shown into Interview One. Meredith Melia is in a mint-green trouser suit and Patrick Dunn in his trademark white open-necked shirt; he must buy them by the hundredweight. They’ve brought a bag-carrier too, an earnest-looking young woman in glasses, laden with two pilot cases and a stack of files.
‘They’re probably full of bricks, just to intimidate us,’ says Quinn, nodding towards the bags.
Gislingham gives a grim smile. ‘Well, it’s working.’ He draws himself up a little, then turns to Quinn. ‘Find Ev, would you? Let’s rustle up a little posse of our own.’
Quinn grins. ‘I’ll see if I can find you a nice big sheriff badge too.’
* * *
Unlike his lawyers, Caleb Morgan hasn’t bothered dressing for the occasion. In fact, Ev wouldn’t be at all surprised if they’d told him exactly what to wear: the slightly grubby T-shirt and cargo shorts might as well be a big flashing sign saying, ‘Our client is completely relaxed about this whole process.’
By the time everyone has a seat and a glass of water, the room is already fugging up, and Ev’s starting to envy that T-shirt. She can feel the sweat prickling under her arms.
Gislingham looks round the table and it’s not until the room is absolutely silent that he begins to speak.
‘Caleb Owen Morgan, I am arresting you on suspicion of sexual assault on 6th July 2018. 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.’
Morgan is gaping. ‘What the fuck –’
‘Let us handle this, Caleb,’ says Melia, turning to Gislingham. ‘What the hell’s going on? Our client is the victim here – oh, but I forgot, men can’t possibly be victims, can they. This is unbelievable –’
‘What I would like to know,’ says Dunn, cutting across her, ‘is what evidence you have for this absurd allegation.’
Gislingham matches him stare for stare. ‘Contrary to what we previously believed, there was, in fact, a witness to what happened that night.’
Morgan looks incredulous. ‘What?’
Meredith Melia looks up. ‘A witness?’
Gislingham relishes the pause. ‘Tobin Fisher.’
Morgan shakes his head. ‘No. No way. He was asleep. I checked on him only a few minutes before Marina got back.’
‘That’s as may be, but he told us he came down to get a drink.’
Morgan sits back. ‘Well, I never saw him.’
‘No. That’s what he said too.’
A frown flickers across Morgan’s brows. ‘So what did he say?’
‘He said he saw you having sex with his mother.’
The room detonates with silence.
‘Never happened,’ says Morgan tersely. ‘Never. Bloody. Happened.’
‘Well, his description was pretty damn detailed,’ observes Quinn.
‘So what?’
Quinn raises an eyebrow. ‘So how does an eight-year-old describe the mechanics of sex unless he’s actually seen it? He said you took her from behind, by the way, is that how you like it?’
Morgan shoots him a savage look, then turns to Gislingham. ‘Who knows how many lovers Marina’s had? He could have seen her with any one of them.’
Dunn sits forward. ‘My client makes an extremely valid point, officer. And for the record, I find your colleague’s last comment exceptionally offensive.’
‘Likewise,’ says Melia. ‘And in any case, the child is only eight. I doubt anything he says can be considered reliable.’
‘True,’ says Gislingham, ‘he is very young. But we do have specially trained officers with extensive experience in questioning children of his age. Should it come to it, I’m sure the CPS would consider it fully admissible. So, to confirm, Mr Morgan’s position –’
Quinn stifles a snort. Melia glares at him.
‘Mr Morgan’s position is that no such sex act took place between him and Professor Fisher?’
‘No,’ says Morgan. ‘It did not.’
‘According to Tobin, you were hurting his mother –’
Morgan starts shaking his head.
‘– not only that, he said she looked “floppy” and “sleepy”. A description that leads us to believe that some sort of date-rape drug may have been involved.’
Morgan’s been struggling to keep his anger down, but this is too much. ‘You’ve got to be fucking kidding me – I’ve never heard so much bullshit in my whole fucking life –’
‘Caleb,’ begins Melia but he shakes her hand off, his eyes still on Gislingham.
‘You’re actually believing that shit?’
Gislingham shrugs. ‘Why would he make it up?’
Morgan leans forward, elbows on the table. ‘He’s just a kid. A pretty vulnerable kid too, frankly. I’m not the only one who thought he might have some sort of a problem. So if you think you can rely on a single word he’s saying, I’ll have some of whatever you’re smoking.’