Hope to Die

‘As I’m sure you’ll understand, our first priority is finding out where Ms Rowan’s son has been all these years, and unfortunately we don’t have any ID –’

‘Yes,’ she says quickly. ‘Mel said.’

‘So we’re starting on the basis that Ms Rowan was telling the truth and did, in fact, hand the child to its father. Have you had any contact with her since she’s been in prison?’

She shakes her head. ‘No. No way.’

Hansen’s turn. ‘Is there anything you can tell us about the boys she was seeing back then?’

She gives him a hopeless look. ‘I went through all this years ago – when she was arrested. I told those other police everything I knew. I didn’t know anything about that Tim or Tom whatever his name was. She never mentioned him to me.’

Hansen flips open his notebook. ‘She did have a boyfriend though, around that time?’

She fiddles with her mug again; she still hasn’t drunk any of it.

‘There was Peter Anderson, but it wasn’t him.’

Everett nods. ‘I gather they only started seeing each other some weeks after she must have become pregnant.’

‘And he definitely didn’t take the baby. He was on holiday with his family. They proved that in court.’

‘Are you still in touch?’

She makes a face. ‘On and off. Christmas cards, you know.’

‘Could you let DC Hansen have his address before we go?’

She looks anxious for a moment. ‘It’s in Dumfries somewhere. Look, it really wasn’t him. Honestly – I’d know. He has two daughters –’

‘He’s not under any suspicion,’ says Ev quickly. ‘We just need to eliminate him. No one could be ruled out when the baby first disappeared because we didn’t have its DNA, but now we do. It’d be in Mr Anderson’s interests, really. It’d let him draw a line under the whole thing once and for all.’

She drops her gaze. ‘OK. It’s just, you know – I don’t want him thinking I dropped him in it.’

‘That’s understandable. But we’d really rather prefer you didn’t talk to him about this until we have a chance to speak to him ourselves.’

She’s still staring into her coffee.

‘OK,’ she says eventually. ‘OK.’

‘So,’ says Hansen, ‘other than Peter Anderson, were there other boyfriends you can remember?’

‘I said all this the first time. There were a few boys she liked, but no one I’d call a “boyfriend”.’

Hansen consults his notes. ‘Marcus Crowther and Jamie Fox?’

‘Yes, she knew both of them.’

‘Do you think it’s possible,’ says Ev, ‘that one of them could have fathered the second baby?’

She shrugs. ‘You tell me. Camilla’s mother kept her on a pretty tight rein – she always had to be back home by eleven. There wasn’t exactly a lot of opportunity.’

‘That must have made it hard to get away – when she went into labour.’

Her eyes narrow; she knows what Ev’s getting at.

‘The second time was when we were at that hockey thing. It was the last night – it was just before Christmas – everyone went out – it would’ve been easy to slip away.’

‘Where did her mother think she was?’

She shrugs. ‘You’d have to ask her. She probably thought it was a sleepover with the team or something.’

‘And the first baby – what about when she went into labour then?’

She sighs. ‘Yes, well, I lied for her that time, didn’t I – told her mother she was staying at mine. You know that. Look, I was just a kid – I thought she wanted to bunk off down the pub – I had no idea what was really going on –’

‘It’s OK, Mrs Nev – Leonora – I’m not accusing you of anything.’

‘I’m sorry, I know you’re not. But it was bloody awful – being interrogated over and over again, and then that horrible prosecutor trying to get me to admit I knew something about that baby when I didn’t, and then being in the bloody papers –’

Her voice is getting shrill.

‘Like I said,’ says Ev quickly, ‘we’re just trying to find out what happened. That’s all.’

Leonora raises her mug to her lips. She’s trembling slightly, and pulls her cardigan closer round her shoulders.

Hansen takes the still from the CCTV footage from his pocket and places it on the table between them.

‘This is the man,’ he says. ‘The one we believe is Camilla’s son.’

She hesitates, then reaches out and pulls the photo closer. ‘It’s not very clear.’

‘I’m afraid it’s all we’ve got.’

There’s silence; she’s staring at the picture.

‘We were hoping he might look like someone you knew back then?’

She slowly shakes her head. ‘No, I’m afraid he doesn’t. He doesn’t even look like Cam.’

* * *

Adam Fawley

25 October

10.30

Turns out I’ve never actually been to South Mercia Police HQ. I’d definitely remember it if I had. It looks like a football stadium, all swooping rooflines and glass walls. And blue – a lot of upbeat, positive, here-to-serve blue.

We park up in the visitors’ area and make our way over to reception. It’s more like a hotel or a private hospital than a plod shop. There are even sofas. With cushions.