Hope to Die

Her lip lifts in a sneer. ‘They were both in the picture, weren’t they. He was a lot taller than her.’

And it’s true – Renee Seidler is relatively short. But it could just as easily be an educated guess.

‘Anything else?’

‘Her hair was dark. Reddish. She had it in a long plait. And she wore glasses. With wire rims.’

This is different – and way too specific to guess out of nowhere. I see her following my thought, and the tiny curl of triumph in her mouth.

‘See? I am telling the truth. Whatever you might have thought.’

‘So what happened? How did you arrange the handover?’

‘He gave me a phone number and told me to call him when I was leaving the hospital.’

‘And you met on the A417?’

Half her mouth smiles and she points at me. ‘You’re sharp. For a plod.’

‘I’ve been doing this a long time. So you meet him at a lay-by on the A417, then what?’

‘I gave him the kid. Like I said.’

‘So why did you say you gave the baby to its father?’

She sits back. ‘By the time anyone started asking, he was the kid’s father.’

‘That’s sophistry, and you know it.’

And she knows what the word means too, as the expression on her face makes clear.

‘I don’t believe you, Ms Rowan. Frankly, I don’t even think you believe you.’

‘I don’t give a shit what you think. He’d been with them five years by then – he was their kid, not mine. I didn’t want him taken away from them.’

‘You didn’t know that would definitely have happened.’

She laughs drily. ‘Yeah, right.’

I sit forward. ‘It meant that much to you? You were prepared to sacrifice decades of your life – to go to prison – rather than incriminate two complete strangers?’

‘Complete strangers who were bringing up my kid. And in any case, I didn’t know I was going to be convicted, now did I?’

‘Fair enough. But you could have raised it afterwards – when you filed all those appeals.’

There’s a silence. She’s drawing circles on the table again.

‘It makes no sense,’ I say in the end. ‘You know it makes no sense.’

Rowan looks up. But not at me. She leans forward and whispers to Parrish, who nods and turns to us.

‘I think Ms Rowan has given ample evidence that she knew the people who took the child. More importantly, there is now incontrovertible proof that Ms Rowan did not harm her son. If any crime was committed – and I, for one, remain to be convinced – it was at worst an offence under the Adoption Act 1976, which would certainly not have resulted in a custodial sentence of the length Ms Rowan has served. Whichever way you cut it, she should now be released.’

‘Not my department, Ms Parrish, sorry.’

That’s a bit of a sorry-not-sorry, if I’m honest. But I’m not sorry about that either.

Parrish frowns. ‘Are you charging these people – the as-yet-unnamed Americans?’

‘As per my previous answer. That’s up to the CPS, not me.’

She and Desai confer for a moment, then she turns briskly to me. ‘So are we done?’

Desai has already flipped shut his notebook. And like I’ve said before: when you’re at a brick wall, stop pushing.

‘We’re done.’

* * *

JULY 2 2018

NOAH SEIDLER

PO BOX 5653, NY 11201

YOU HAVEN’T EVEN WRITTEN ME BACK. NOT EVEN TWO FRIGGIN LINES.

IF I’M NOT YOUR KID JUST SAY SO, SO I CAN WRITE THIS ONE OFF AND MOVE ON. BUT THAT’S NOT REALLY IT, IS IT. YOU KNOW I’M YOUR KID AND YOU’RE JUST HOPING THIS ALL GOES AWAY BECAUSE YOU CAN’T FACE DEALING WITH IT. WELL IT WON’T GO AWAY – YOU HEAR ME? AND IN ANY CASE, DON’T YOU THINK I DESERVE THE TRUTH? EVERYONE CLOSE TO ME HAS BEEN LYING TO ME MY WHOLE LIFE. I’M PISSED. YOU KNOW THAT? I. AM. PISSED.

YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE I’M PISSED ABOUT? YOU DON’T EVEN WANT TO KNOW ABOUT ME. WHAT I’M LIKE. WHAT I DO, WHAT I’M INTO. NOTHING. I’M YOUR LONG-LOST KID AND YOU DON’T ASK ME A SINGLE FRIGGIN QUESTION. AREN’T YOU EVEN JUST A LITTLE BIT CURIOUS? DO YOU REALLY NOT CARE?

OK RANT OVER. AND THERE’S A BIT OF ME THAT KEEPS SAYING THAT MAYBE YOU’RE JUST FREAKED OUT BY THIS WHOLE THING – THAT YOUR LIFE MUST BE SHIT BECAUSE YOU’RE IN PRISON AND YOU NEVER KNEW THIS WAS COMING AND IT’S JUST THROWN YOU FOR A LOOP. SO I’VE DECIDED I’M GONNA GIVE YOU THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBT. FOR NOW.

SO I’VE PRINTED YOU OUT A COUPLE OF PICTURES. EVEN THOUGH YOU DIDN’T ASK FOR ANY. ONE’S OF ME AND MOM WHEN I WAS LITTLE. CUTE, HUH? I ALWAYS LOVED THE ZOO. AND ONE FROM A COUPLE OF YEARS AGO, JUST AFTER DAD WAS DIAGNOSED. IT’S HIM AND ME AT YOSEMITE. HE ALWAYS PROMISED ME WE WOULD GO. IT WAS OUR LAST TRIP.

AND I MEANT TO SAY – I’M TRYING TO GET MOM TO LET ME COME TO EUROPE FOR FALL BREAK. I’M GONNA DO A MODULE ON THE RENAISSANCE AND I’M THINKING FLORENCE MIGHT BE GOOD. AND ENGLAND’S JUST A HOP FROM THERE, RIGHT?

NOAH

* * *

Adam Fawley

28 October

11.55

‘What do you think?’

We’re in the car park. Parrish and Desai are still inside, having a con with their client. And I’m out here, trying to decide whether ‘con’ is, in fact, the word of the day.

Gow takes his time replying. The wind’s getting up and I’m starting to wish I’d brought a coat. Carter’s looking smug in a waxed Barbour thing that I bet isn’t a real one.