Hope to Die

‘She’s a piece of work,’ Gow says eventually. ‘That’s what I think.’

I give a dry smile. ‘I didn’t need to pay for a profiler to know that.’

But maybe it’s a more revealing answer than it seems. When a forensic psychologist is reduced to that sort of reaction, that alone should tell you something.

‘Deftly handled, by the way,’ says Gow. ‘Managing not to let on that Seidler’s dead.’

‘I think, Dr Gow, that you’ll find every word I said was strictly true.’

He smiles. ‘Indeed. Dead men aren’t terribly talkative as a rule, are they. Like I said, deftly handled.’

‘You still haven’t told me what you think.’

He draws a breath. ‘I think she has an innate capacity for mendacity.’

‘She’s a pathological liar?’

‘It’s risky making any diagnosis on the basis of such limited observation, but if she took a polygraph I suspect she’d beat the machine. Lying is as natural to her as breathing. She has none of the moral or socially conditioned qualms that trip up the rest of us.’

I’m frowning now. This wasn’t quite the angle I expected him to take. ‘You’re saying she was lying back there?’

‘I’m saying I doubt if even I could tell the difference.’

‘But there were things she said that she couldn’t have made up – or guessed. Like what Renee Seidler looked like –’

‘You’re sure about that?’ he says. ‘Because she doesn’t look anything like that now, does she?’

I show him my phone. ‘I just texted her. She sent me this.’

A picture of Renee Seidler with her son. A dribble of snow on the ground, a gaggle of kids in woolly hats and mittens, and what looks like a polar bear in the enclosure behind. It must be Central Park zoo; Alex loves that place. On the screen, Noah’s laughing and clapping his little hands. He must be around two. And Renee – crouching, smiling, her hand gently steadying him – has a long auburn plait slipping over one shoulder.

‘I just don’t see how Rowan could have guessed she wore her hair like that.’

Gow’s frowning now. ‘I see what you mean. And you’re absolutely sure, are you, that Noah never contacted her? Because that’s the only way I can think of that she could have found out something that specific.’

‘The governor wasn’t aware of anything. According to her, all her post was just fan mail. Though she did say she’d check.’

‘Might be worth chasing up on that. Given that we’re here.’

I turn to Carter, but he pre-empts me. ‘You want me to go and ask, sir?’

‘Thank you, Carter.’

We watch him go, then Gow turns to me. ‘So what now?’

I shrug. ‘The lawyer was right. There’s no reason why Rowan shouldn’t be released. I’m sure that’s the line the CPS will take.’

His face darkens.

‘I know, Bryan – I’m as uneasy about it as you are. But what possible reason can there be to hold her? The murder conviction’s void, and she’s just come up with a story that tallies with what we now know.’

‘As far as it goes, yes. But there are still gaps – huge gaps –’

‘I’m with you, but what can I do? With David Seidler dead there’s no one to challenge her. Rowan’s story is the only game in town. There’s nothing I can charge her with. Unlike her poor bloody father, who’s almost certainly going down for manslaughter, if not murder.’

He sighs. It’s probably the most emotional I’ve ever seen him, and I’ve known him upwards of five years.

‘You still want a report?’

I nod. ‘Please. I need to talk to the CPS, but I suspect they’re just going to tell us to close this one down. As I’m sure Superintendent Harrison will agree.’

* * *

JULY 10 2018

NOAH SEIDLER

PO BOX 5653, NY 11201

I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT NOT BEING ALLOWED VISITORS, I’M COMING. WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT. I’M COMING.

YOU KNOW WHY? I GOT SOMETHING FROM OUR LAWYERS TODAY. A LETTER FOR ME, FROM DAD. HE LEFT IT WITH THEM WHEN HE WAS FIRST DIAGNOSED. SAID HE DIDN’T WANT IT GIVEN TO ME TILL NOW TO GIVE ME TIME TO DEAL WITH ALL THE CRAP AFTER HE DIED. AND HE DIDN’T WANT MY MOM UPSET SO I WASN’T TO TELL HER, BUT HE THOUGHT I SHOULD KNOW THE TRUTH. THAT HE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO COULD TELL ME, BECAUSE MOM NEVER KNEW WHAT REALLY HAPPENED. BUT I HAD A RIGHT TO HEAR IT, AND HE DIDN’T WANT ME EVER BLAMING MOM BECAUSE ALL SHE’D EVER DONE – ALL EITHER OF THEM HAD EVER DONE – WAS LOVE ME. IF I WAS GOING TO BLAME ANYONE IT SHOULD BE THE PERSON WHO DESERVED IT.

YOU.

YOU’VE BEEN LYING TO ME. DON’T EVEN TRY TO DENY IT BECAUSE I KNOW. I KNOW THE TRUTH. NOT ALL OF IT, NOT ALL THE DETAILS, BUT ENOUGH. THE SMELL AND THE PISS AND THE DIRT. I KNOW. YOU HEAR THAT?

I KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

* * *

Adam Fawley

29 October

08.35

‘So that’s where we are. I’m not happy about it and I doubt any of you are either, but sometimes this job just isn’t black and white.’

It’s a grey Monday all round. In here as much as outside, where low cloud has settled into an insistent spitty drizzle. Some towns manage to wear rain well; trust me, Oxford isn’t one of them.

‘I still don’t understand why she didn’t say any of this years ago,’ says Ev.

‘Bloody waste of time, the whole sodding thing,’ mutters Quinn.