by Dylan Young
Just before five, Trisha put her head through the door. ‘I’ve found the report on that Cirencester rape case, ma’am. Just sending the link through.’
Cirencester was in Gloucestershire’s patch. They’d used a standard physical evidence recovery kit for fluid sampling, hair and fibre analysis. But they would also have sent larger items to the lab. She found what she was looking for three pages in: photographs of the victim’s clothing and jewellery. The dress was stained with mud, torn and bedraggled, an inanimate reminder of the ordeal. But there was no doubting the design.
A floral print. Pink roses.
Shaw hadn’t been lying.
Sixteen
Megan Roberts sat in the littered annexe next to her classroom with a straight back, silhouetted against a big window that badly needed cleaning. Despite the grime, Anna could see through it to a playing field, where some boys enjoyed an organised game of football.
It was 9.30 a.m. and Ms Roberts’ class in the science laboratory at Ledbourne School was being supervised by a student on teaching practice. Every surface in the annexe was covered with books, flasks, reagents and papers. The items were grouped neatly, if closely together, into an organised heap. No chaos here, only an acute lack of space.
Anna had already expressed her gratitude to Ms Roberts for agreeing to speak to her, but explained again her professional interest.
‘If I can help in any way, I’ll be happy to,’ Megan responded. She wore a serious, shrewd expression, but Anna surmised from their initial greeting that the severity she saw there could be transformed by a lovely smile. The rape had occurred not long after she’d taken up her teaching post. Megan had then been twenty-three and she didn’t look much older now. Small-boned, fair in colouring, piercing blue eyes with heavy lids adorned with little make-up, and a small mouth within a heart-shaped face. This was Megan Roberts, the teacher, blighted by an unprovoked attack. The face of bravery.
‘Have you spoken to any of the others before me?’
‘No,’ Anna said. ‘You’re the first.’
‘I see.’
‘Megan, my involvement in this is not quite what you think it is. I’m working on a different inquiry and I think that perhaps your case might be linked to it. I can’t tell you as much as I’d like to but you deserve to know something.’
‘So, not rapes?’ Megan asked.
‘No.’
‘Worse?’
‘Yes.’
Megan nodded, lips tight in understanding. ‘He’s killed, hasn’t he?’
‘I think it’s possible that he has, yes.’
Megan’s expression softened into an ironic little smile. ‘All this time I’ve dared to wonder if I should have played it differently, resisted more, somehow. But I always felt that he was capable of killing me. The threats were real, the knife was real, his hands around my throat… but there’s always the magazine articles that tell you to reason with them, try to talk them out of it. With him, there was no talking.’
‘Could you take me through it once more?’
Megan nodded. ‘It was a Friday night in September. We were three weeks into the new school term. I was living in Stroud with my boyfriend, Luke. I’d called at Sainsbury’s on the way home and I had three carrier bags full of food. We lived in the second-floor flat of an apartment block. There was a courtyard at the rear for parking. It was seven thirty, the light just beginning to fade, but not dark by any means. The carriers were heavy and I left my school bag in the car as I walked the twenty yards to the entrance. I had to walk past the rear of some gardens that backed on to the courtyard. I saw some movement to one side of me, half turned and then he was there, hand over my mouth, pulling me through a gate into a space. We were close to houses, but he’d found an overgrown garden. We might as well have been in a jungle somewhere.’
Anna shook her head in sympathy. ‘He was behind you all the time?’
‘Not all the time, but he was masked. He hit me in the stomach and then the face. It was ferocious and sudden. He put tape over my eyes and face and tied my hands. I think he went back out to get the bags because they were with me when they found me. He put his hands around my neck and squeezed. He kept warning me to be quiet. I didn’t understand; I mean he’d stuck the tape over my mouth. But then he took the tape off because he wanted my mouth open… so that I could…’ She looked away towards the window for a moment and made herself breathe slowly.
‘Did he speak to you at any length?’
‘Just threats. Warning me not to struggle and then squeezing my neck so that I knew that he meant it. He kept the mask on all the way through. It muffled his voice. I couldn’t breathe, he kept squeezing here.’ She pointed to just below her Adam’s apple. ‘I think I must have passed out.’
‘Did he take anything from you?’
Megan snorted. ‘He stole my phone.’
‘Megan, I know how painful this is for you. If this is the same man that I’m hunting for, I need as much information as I can get. I know what you’ve told the police about his physical appearance, his size, his weight and what little accent you might have heard. I have all that. The fact is that it’s likely he’d been following you for some time. He’s not opportunistic. Had anything happened in the few days or weeks before? Anything untoward that sticks in your memory?’
Megan frowned. ‘I’ve never thought about it that way before. Term had begun and I was in the thick of things.’
‘Will you think about it? I know it’s a long time ago but…’
‘No, I can do that, I keep a diary. How far back do you want me to go?’
‘If we said three months to begin with?’
‘Fine… is it recent, what he’s done?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is it more than once?’
‘We think it’s possible that it’s at least twice. Probably many more times.’
Megan nodded. Short, sharp little movements.
Anna handed her a card. ‘You can phone or email me here,’ she explained. ‘And thank you for talking to me. I know it can’t have been easy.’
Megan smiled. ‘In an odd way, it helps. Sometimes I think I’ve come to terms with it but then, no. It’s still with me every day. I got over the physical hurt very quickly. The bruises faded and psychologically I was able to confront it. But I hate him for what it did to me and Luke.’
‘Rape victims’ partners often need as much counselling as the victims do,’ Anna said, sounding rueful.
‘Luke couldn’t handle it. We split up six months later. He couldn’t cope with the thought of what had happened to me. He used to cry when we tried to make love. We’d been together for two years. I still don’t understand any of it.’
‘Has there been anyone since?’
Megan’s eyes bored steadily into Anna’s. ‘No, no one.’
A wave of unexpected sadness washed over her. Rape was always thus – an emotional landmine, indiscriminate and maiming.
A few muffled cheers emanated from the laboratory, quelled by a high-pitched beseeching voice.
‘Sounds like I’d better get back in there,’ Megan said, glancing towards the door.
Anna stood. ‘Of course. I’ve taken up enough of your time.’
‘No. I’m pleased to be able to help.’
They shook hands and Anna wandered between the school buildings to her car and sat for a moment, her mind full of an aching sympathy for Megan. A helpless victim. It was impossible to remain indifferent to it and she harboured a loathing for those who tried. Perhaps it was time to throw off the gloves and drag a few of those precious, insensitive beings from their ivory towers.
And there was no doubt in her mind who to begin with.
Seventeen
There was black ice on the road the following morning. With Khosa driving, Anna took out a file she’d asked Trisha to compile on Cooper from the time of his arrest. An assortment of court orders, police charge sheets, social workers’ reports and, with a Post-it note attached to make it
easy to find, a medical assessment.
Holder had written a second note and stuck it on the assessment: ‘This is what I’d read, ma’am.’ The report said that Cooper was medicated, needing hefty doses of anti-epileptic therapy even then.
Despite having spent most of the day before pouring over everything, Anna made herself read it all again, hoping that there might be something of use. In a three-page psychologist’s report, one paragraph caught her eye:
Cooper was reluctant to talk of his sexual contacts. Although not unusual in an adolescent of his age, he did admit to finding any talk of his ‘private parts’ embarrassing. He felt confused and angry by his peers’ constant talk of sex and their fantasies. After much persuasion, he admitted that he felt abnormal and humiliated because he had difficulty with ‘it’ – his own words. He would not be drawn, and when masturbation was mentioned, drew the conversation away from further discussion. When questioned directly as to what exactly ‘it’ was – asking, ‘Do you mean erections?’ – he became agitated.
Anna read the paragraph twice. Cooper was epileptic. An addendum to the report explained that the condition was a known and well-established organic cause of impotence. Reason enough for wanting to wreak revenge on an overtly promiscuous Emily Risman, perhaps? On the other hand, from this report it seemed as likely that thoughts of sexual contact, let alone rape, might not have entered Neville Cooper’s head. Would he risk further humiliation? Had the CCRC squad known this?
* * *
Tobias had requested that they meet at Cooper’s cousin’s house in Churchdown, two and a half miles outside the city of Gloucester. This neutral venue had more to do with avoiding the press than anything else. Cooper’s mother’s house was under siege and Tobias’s office was, Anna suspected, also being watched.
‘Did Tobias say anything about why he wanted this meeting?’ Anna asked Khosa.
‘No, ma’am. My guess is he sees in you something that may be lacking in Chief Inspector Harris.’
No surprises there, Anna thought.
‘I haven’t told him,’ Khosa said. ‘But we’re acting well within our remit, aren’t we?’
‘Of course we are. Cooper’s conviction was deemed unsafe on the basis of fresh evidence. What we need to know is if that evidence, as well as exonerating Cooper, points us in the direction of anyone else. We’re treading on no one’s toes here, Ryia, and we need to work fast. It would be a disaster if Harris and Slack force another confession out of Cooper. Meanwhile, the real Woodsman is still out there.’
‘I’m not sure Harris would see it that way, ma’am.’
‘Perhaps not, but that isn’t our problem. What’s Harris like, I wonder? Away from work I mean?’
Khosa glanced across at her. ‘Harris? Married, two kids in their early teens. He’s a warden in his local church, does a bit of fishing. Doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke. Lives for his job. Pretty average bloke really.’
Anna’s eyebrows went up.
‘I asked a mate,’ Khosa said.
‘Yes, well, I thought as much. There’s an air of arrogance about him, constantly claiming the moral high ground.’
They lapsed into a pensive silence, which lasted until they arrived in the village. Khosa craned forward to read street signs and eventually, they pulled up outside a semi-detached grey house with yellow windows and doors, fronted by a small, neat garden guarded by a low gate.
‘This is it.’
A curtain flicked back as Khosa killed the engine. ‘I think they’re expecting us, ma’am.’
Tobias emerged from the front door, glancing up and down the street as he held the gate open for Anna. He was tall, wearing thick-rimmed, fashionable glasses and carrying more than a bit of extra weight that a good suit, white shirt and a blue tie couldn’t hide.
He greeted them with a solemn, ‘Thank you for coming, Inspector. Mrs Cooper is grateful, too. I think it would be best if we go directly inside. You can never be sure who might be prying.’
Anna and Khosa shook his hand, then followed him into the house to another small living room, this one devoid of china shire horses. It was cleaner, neater and furnished in a more modern style than the Rismans’. Tobias made cursory introductions to a middle-aged couple, Anita and Joe, who had the dubious honour of being Neville Cooper’s cousins. They graciously disappeared into another room as Tobias brought Anna across to an elderly woman, who sat upright in a straight-backed chair. The resemblance between herself and her son was obvious. Same small eyes and full lips, same round face. She struggled to get up and Tobias lent an arm to help her. She stood, tottering slightly, and took Anna’s hand.
‘Inspector Gwynne, meet Maggie Cooper.’
They shook hands and Anna moved over to an armchair as Maggie sat back down shakily. Khosa pulled out a chair from under a dining table and sat near the window.
Maggie groaned as she settled. ‘You’ll have to excuse me. My legs are not what they used to be.’
Anna glanced down at a pair of swollen oedematous ankles and noted the understatement.
‘Heart trouble,’ explained Mrs Cooper. ‘I take so many tablets I rattle, but…’
They all waited while Tobias arranged himself into a seat. Outside, someone passed by in the street. Fragments of a one-way phone conversation drifted in and then away again, ending in a raucous laugh. A brash snapshot of someone else’s life. Anna wondered, briefly, when anyone in this house had last felt joy like that.
Tobias cleared his throat. ‘I expect you’re wondering why I asked to meet you like this? Let me make it clear that I do not, Inspector, for one moment, wish to compromise your position.’
Maggie Cooper interjected. ‘I saw your picture in the paper. I said to Mr Tobias, she’s too pretty to be a policewoman. It was my idea to ask you here.’ She wheezed as she spoke.
‘Why?’ asked Anna.
‘Because Mr Tobias told me that you’ve been asked to find out who really killed Emily. That means you must believe in Neville.’
‘Mrs Cooper—’
Tobias interjected. ‘Inspector, we realise that reopening the Risman Case after this length of time must be daunting. Mrs Cooper felt that we might be able to offer you our services to help in any way that we can.’
‘I can’t take sides in this, Mr Tobias.’
Tobias didn’t smile. ‘That is not what we’re asking. We are used to not receiving any favours.’
‘Then…’
Tobias held up both hands in a gesture of truce. ‘If you’ll just hear me out. We were campaigning for Neville’s release for seventeen years. There is very little about this case that I am not familiar with.’
Tobias’s eyes locked on hers and she felt Maggie Cooper’s stare burning into the side of her face.
‘I’m grateful for the offer, but you’ll realise that I have full access to all the police files.’
Tobias’s answering smile made his face look like he’d just bitten down on a slice of lemon. He reached down and picked up two box files. ‘This is a distillation of the hard evidence refuting Neville’s conviction.’
‘We’re familiar with the case, sir,’ Khosa said, and Anna sensed the mild irritation in her voice.
‘Excuse me, Constable, but you are not,’ Tobias said. ‘You may have read the police files, but they do not represent the true facts of this case. Let’s just say that disclosure was not CCRC’s or the CPS’s strong point. Neville Cooper was nowhere near the area on the day Emily Risman died. He was in Gloucester. We have witnesses who were previously too intimidated to come forward. Neville was with his friend William Bradley. Bradley was interviewed by police and a statement taken early in the investigation. Initially he admitted being with Neville that night, first at the amusement arcade and then in the cinema. Later he changed his statement, claiming he couldn’t be sure that it was the same night as that of the murder. Bradley was on probation and was awaiting a hearing on a burglary charge. At that hearing, he was given a light sentence because he’d helped police
in securing Neville’s conviction. Bradley is currently in prison and has been labelled a pathological liar, yet the Appeal Court ruled his evidence as perfectly acceptable time and again.’
‘Mr Tobias—’
‘We have forensic evidence via ESDA, electrostatic detection testing, that Neville’s confession was obtained falsely. Police wrote out the statement double-spaced for Neville to sign, and added incriminating sentences later. The added sentences indented the cover of another document that showed up last year. This was in DS Maddox’s hand. Neville insisted he was in Gloucester and that he and Bradley hitched a lift back that evening in a white van. The driver was never traced, but we found a scribbled note – again in Maddox’s hand – indicating that a witness reported seeing two boys being picked up on the ring road at a little after ten p.m. that night. A witness statement was never taken or followed up.
‘The police searched the Coopers’ property twice before the bloodstained underclothes were found during a third search, supposedly hidden under some coal. It will come as no surprise to you to learn that the officer who found this item was DS Maddox. Despite being suspended five years later for misconduct in another case, the Appeal Court judges consistently ruled that there was no reason to doubt his propriety in the Woodsman investigation.’
‘I understand that DS Maddox is no longer with us,’ Anna said.
‘No. And I, for one, do not regret his passing,’ Tobias said and didn’t wait for Anna to respond. ‘You have no idea what these people did in the name of “justice”. Maggie found a cinema ticket in Neville’s coat with the name and time of the film he had seen on it. Maddox denied ever receiving it, although there is mention of a “ticket” in the evidence book at the station where Cooper was held. Maddox claimed that this was an old bus ticket, which was never produced in court. Maddox had bragged and bet that they would get Neville convicted.’ Tobias stopped, his lips a thin angry line. ‘These facts will re-emerge at the retrial. I am going to make sure of that. But there is still evidence that we haven’t seen.’
