by Graham Smith
‘Wow. I didn’t realise there were quite so many facets to it.’
‘That’s the problem. A handful of rapes, like the ones we are investigating, are horrific individuals attacking random victims, but the majority of rapes are committed by people the victims know. Rape is also part of the domestic-abuse spectrum. Many domestic abusers escalate to rape and because they have power over their partners; these situations can go on for years.’ Beth paused to sip at her wine. A crisp Chardonnay with undertones of citrus fruits. It was delicious, and while she wanted more than just one glass to wash the sour taste of their conversation’s subject matter from her mouth, she’d made a point of driving the two miles from her home to Stoneybrook Inn so she could only have one alcoholic drink. The last thing she wanted was to make it easy for Forster to ply her with wine. ‘Then you have the false accusations.’
‘The what?’ Forster’s puzzlement was spread across his face and layered in his tone.
‘False accusations. Some people cry rape to take revenge on someone for something the claimant believes the accused has done to them. Let’s face it, someone’s making false allegations against you. All the false allegations have to be dealt with in the same way as the genuine ones, which adds to the workload created by the genuine victims. Yes, the official statistics on false rapes are less than one per cent, but those figures only include the claimants who were prosecuted for wasting police time or perverting the course of justice, which means the real figure is probably higher as not every false allegation will end in prosecution for either party. I think your idea about encouraging people to report their rapes is fantastic, and if you hadn’t mentioned it, I would have. However, that may well create a deluge of claims if it proves to work. Have you taken into account the fact that once your charity is up and running with a few successes under its belt, it may well become the go-to place for all claimants and perhaps those reporting historical rapes? That would be fantastic, but we’ll have to make sure the police infrastructure is in place to deal with all the calls in the right way and to make sure each is investigated properly.’
‘Agreed. There is one thing that I’m wondering though. What do we do when victims come to us and refuse to report the rape to the police?’
‘We try gentle persuasion. We do everything we can to encourage them to report their sexual assault, but we always respect their decision. It is them who’ll have to stand in the dock and explain their actions and decisions to a court, not us. And that’s before you factor in the horror of having to tell a room full of strangers every detail of what might have been the worst experience of their life. If they can’t do it, then we have to respect that and offer them counselling instead.’
‘Is that all? Couldn’t you lock the guys up, or at least put a scare into them?’
‘You’re joking me, right?’ Beth was annoyed at herself for letting the scoff creep into her voice. ‘What do you think would happen once we released the guy? I’ll tell you what would happen in most cases, the woman would be taught a lesson. One of the biggest reasons women pull out of reporting the fact they’ve been raped is that they’re afraid of repercussions.’
Forster held up a hand in contrition. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think of that. You know best.’
Beth ignored the comment about her knowing best and reached into her folder to retrieve the pages of statistics she’d printed from the Rape Crisis website. ‘I don’t know how much research you’ve done yourself, but have a look at these figures and you’ll see the scale of what you’re dealing with. I got these from a national charity, which begs another question, do you plan to stay regional, or will you go national?’
Forster took the papers and laid them down as he pulled a pair of reading glasses from his jacket pocket. ‘I think we should set up as regional first and then once we’ve got ourselves established and have the kinks ironed out, we should roll it out nationally on a county by county basis.’
Beth was starting to think of this charity as a partnership between the two of them, but she also needed to make her level of involvement clear. ‘I like how you’re including me in everything, but I have to warn you, I’m not a charity worker. I’m a detective and that’s what I want to be. I’m happy to be an advisor as you set the charity up, and I’ll even help you with some publicity, but there’s no way I’ll ever be able to commit to more than that. I shouldn’t even be your police liaison; there are other officers who’re way more qualified to fill that role than I am.’
‘I see. We’ll I’m glad we’ve got that out of the way at the start. I find it’s always better to know these things at the outset, don’t you?’
Beth nodded her agreement as the waitress returned to clear their empty plates. Forster had gone for a steak with home cut chips and she’d ordered the Caesar salad. His steak was cooked the way she liked hers: still pink inside with the merest hint of blood running from it.
Forster leafed through the pages of statistics she’d printed off for him. She saw his eyebrows raise when he got to the page which detailed the number of men who’d fallen victim to sexual assaults and rape.
As with domestic abuse, there were also always a number of male victims, but in most cases the men were reluctant to report the crimes that had been committed against them. Many people didn’t stop to think that a man could suffer rape the way a woman could, but it was a fact of life that they did.
Beth watched Forster closely as he got to the last page. This was the one where she’d written out what she intended to say should their discussions ever bring the charity to life.
Forster nodded as he read. When he got further down the page, his expression changed as he took in her words.
She knew it was a powerful statement: one which laid her bare and exposed her secrets for the world to see.
‘You’d say this to the press? You’d let me use it on advertising that I used to create awareness of the charity?’
‘Absolutely. The women who have the guts to report their rapes will go through far worse than I will making that statement. If it helps give them courage, then I’d be honoured to say it.’ Beth gave a humble shrug as Forster nodded in thought. ‘It’s still a bit rough round the edges and needs a little adjusting here and there once we know names and dates, but its core points will stay the same.’
‘You really are a remarkable young woman. I’m lucky to have you on my side, even if the circumstances we met in were not exactly ideal.’
Beth waved away his compliment as an elderly lady approached the table, the man behind her wearing the expression of the permanently beleaguered.
When the woman opened her mouth, her voice was large enough to carry across the whole room. ‘Excuse me, young lady. I saw you on the telly, didn’t I? You were saying how you’d stop at nothing to catch the man who raped and killed those women. Well, talk to you is quite obviously cheap. Not two hours later you’re sitting here having dinner with your father. You’re nothing but a hypocrite.’
The lady looked at Beth with defiance as she waited for a response.
‘I did indeed say that. But I’m not dining with my father, I’m consulting with a generous man who’s looking to establish a charity to help victims of sexual abuse. For your information, I have been working fourteen-hour days on my current case and I intend to continue to do so until it’s solved. In the meantime, though, I still have to eat.’
The woman strode away, her face blanching as she flapped a hand at the husband to follow.
‘Bravo. You really knocked her down a peg or two there.’
‘She was right though.’
‘Nonsense. Tell me, what do you plan to do when you leave here? Go home and watch something on the TV? Or will you be poring over your notes on the case until you’re exhausted? For what it’s worth, my money is on the latter.’
Beth pulled a face. ‘You’d win your money.’
‘And look at what we’re discussing; this is a working dinner. You even told her as much yourself. You shouldn’t let what
she said get to you. You have to eat, and your involvement in my project is you going over and above the call of duty. Anyway, you think you were insulted, she thought I was your blooming father!’
‘All I’m going to say about that is: no comment.’
‘Very funny. Don’t let her get to you. She’s a bitter old woman who doesn’t know what she’s talking about.’
As kind as his words were, Beth knew she’d made a mistake dining out after making such a public statement. The elderly lady had voiced her opinion, but she wasn’t the only person in the room that may have seen the news. If she had thought that Beth was a hypocrite, others would too.
The way Derek had reassured her about the woman’s comments felt good to Beth. When she added in his impeccable manners, the unmistakable charisma and the fact that he was a classically handsome man, Beth knew that her opinion of him was changing and that her first impressions of him had been wrong.
Forster returned the subject back to the charity and they chatted about the need for male counsellor, counsellors who were multilingual, and the fact that only 40 per cent of rape trials ended in a conviction.
As a copper, Beth knew that the reasons for this were myriad. The victim could have fallen apart under the defence lawyer’s questioning and given poor answers, there may have been a lack of evidence, or a mistake by the investigating officers. Sometimes, the verdict just didn’t go the right way though. It was always one person’s word against another’s, and if the question of consent couldn’t be properly answered, for example, if the victim was too drunk to remember all the details, then a guilty verdict would rarely be found.
When it came to paying the bill, Beth insisted on going Dutch despite Forster’s protests. All she wanted to do was get home and go through her notes. An idea had come to her about the murder case and she wanted to see if it checked out.
Thirty-Nine
Beth settled down on to her couch and thought about her evening. Despite herself, she had to admit that she was warming to Forster. His drive to establish the charity was something that had to be admired, and there was no doubt that he could lay on the charm when he wanted to.
He’d been suave all evening and had been courteous to all those he encountered, but on one or two occasions she’d caught him checking her out. The odd comment of his had crossed the line between polite and flirty. She’d replied to the flirtier comments with directness, but had allowed a faint smile to creep across her face. Beth didn’t want him to be sure if she was attracted to him, but at the same time, she wanted him to hope that she was. She’d been flattered by his attention and now she was thinking about it, she had to admit to herself that if she hadn’t had the two dates with Ethan, she may have been tempted.
The idea she’d had at the Stoneybrook Inn about the murder case checked out to a degree, but she’d need to look at it again in the morning with her spreadsheet in front of her, as the notes she’d brought home with her didn’t have the relevant data. She was sure the information on the birdwatcher had made it to her spreadsheet, but if it hadn’t, it would be on the original investigators’ reports. If she was right, it would need to be made a priority as they would have a suspect for the murders. The first thing she’d do in the morning would be to run the person she suspected through the PND to check out his background.
Beth was so convinced in her idea that she found herself torn between waiting for morning and going into Carleton Hall at once. She was tired but knew that it would take at least an hour before her brain shut down enough for her to sleep. The more she thought about going into the office the more she was inclined to follow the lead.
In the end she decided to stay put, as even if she confirmed her theory, nothing would happen until morning. The link was too tenuous to get a warrant in the middle of the night, and the back shift would have their hands full with the day-to-day stuff. Nobody would thank her for bringing in extra work that could wait until she was back on shift.
To salve her conscience, Beth decided to get an early start to allow her to check out her idea. If she was right and the guy in question had any kind of record, she’d be able to present her findings to O’Dowd as soon as the DI arrived.
Even as she thought about the next day, her mind drifted to Ethan. She wanted to send him a message, but didn’t want to come across as needy.
Like the police, paramedics had good days where lives were saved and children born, but they also had the bad days where things went wrong; they might lose a patient or attend an incident where they saw horrific sights.
Their relationship wasn’t yet developed enough that they supported each other through the bad stuff, but Beth knew that it had a better chance of getting to that stage because of the fact they both worked in the emergency services, which would ultimately mean they’d each understand the other’s pain and frustrations on the bad days.
For those who worked in the front line of the emergency services, finding lasting love was often tough. Inconsiderate shift patterns, along with regular delays in getting away from work, meant meals went uneaten, dates got cancelled at the last minute and partners were let down on a regular basis. That she was dating someone who was in the same figurative boat was a plus. No resentment could build up over ruined plans as they’d both be guilty of last-minute call-offs at times.
The one negative to their relationship developing was that matching their shift patterns would be nigh on impossible some weeks. Still, if things worked out long-term, it’d be a small price to pay.
Ethan’s next night off was on Sunday and they’d made tentative plans to go for a meal then a few drinks. Whether she actually could go would depend on how the case was going. She hoped she could, even if it meant catching up with him later in the night.
She hadn’t worried too much about telling him she would be having dinner with Forster, but she had wondered how he might react. His reaction had been everything she could have hoped for though. Instead of worrying about her dining with a rich and attractive man, he’d been supportive of the fact that she could do some good by helping with the charity.
Beth channel-hopped until she found a wildlife documentary and then settled down to let her brain empty itself. Five minutes into the programme she began to wonder if the reason Ethan had been supportive of her meeting Forster was really because he didn’t care that much about her. It was far too early for the conversation about where things were going, and neither had they made any firm commitment to the other.
They’d had a couple of dates: drinks in a bar where they chatted and got to know one another, but other than goodbye kisses, things hadn’t exactly got physical. Beth had assumed that Ethan had respected that she wasn’t the kind of person who would be rushed and so had behaved like a gentleman. But she couldn’t stop herself worrying that he was losing interest in her.
The cushion beside her received two solid slaps. Was it the same old tired story? Women held off from sleeping with someone too soon in the relationship in case they were thought of as sluts, thus denying their own libido, all the while wondering whether the man in question would tire of waiting and dump them for a girl who wouldn’t make them wait so long.
Ethan wasn’t like that though. Was he? He was the first person she’d found herself attracted to for quite some time, and from where she was standing, he was everything she wanted in a boyfriend. Besides, there really should be no stigma in this day and age.
She was about to pour herself a glass of wine when her phone beeped. She lifted it wondering if the message was Ethan telling her he didn’t like the idea of her having dinner with the mayor.
All at once she realised the contradiction to her thinking: she didn’t want to be with someone who didn’t trust her. If she did stop working on the charity at Ethan’s request, maybe she’d be giving him control over her life, subjugating herself instead sharing an equal role?
The smile she gave to the phone was instinctive.
Ethan had asked about her date with Forster. Hoped that she
was home safe and that she’d had a nice meal.
Beth got all the subtext that lay behind the message. He was asking because he cared, and maybe was a little worried she was dining out with another man so soon into their relationship.
She liked that. It was why she was still smiling to herself as she tapped out a reply. It was good that he cared; she would have cared if he’d been having dinner with another woman. Even if it was a platonic meeting like hers had been.
Except the meeting hadn’t been entirely platonic. It had been a game that both parties were playing. As well as involving her in the charity, Forster was trying to seduce her, and Beth knew, deep down, if Ethan wasn’t on the scene, she might have let Forster succeed.
Beth was putting clothes out ready for the next day when her phone started to ring. Her first thought was that it was Ethan, but when she saw ‘Dad’ on the screen her first instinct was to worry something had happened to one of the family.
‘Dad, is everyone okay?’
‘Of course they are.’ Her father’s voice was filled with calmness and tinged with something else. ‘Why would you think owt else?’
‘Oh right. You don’t usually call me at this time of night.’
‘Yes, well, I have a good reason for calling tonight. I’ve just seen the late Border News and Lookaround.’
Beth felt her heart sink. Her father was a quiet man who believed in causing neither offence nor spectacle. Now that he’d seen her ranting on Border Craic and Deeksabout, as the news show was often called by locals, he’d be sure to have a few words of admonishment for her.
