doing some terrible things when the mood took them, and Sean had certainly proved capable of violence during that very short space of time he’d been in her orbit all those years back. He’d taken the law into his own hands by unofficially infiltrating a gang of armed robbers and being directly involved in the kidnap of a murder suspect. The murder suspect and all the gang, with the exception of Sean, had ended up dead, and although he’d not been charged in connection with the events, it didn’t mean he hadn’t been responsible for at least some of the killings. It crossed her mind to report what Sean had told her to her former colleagues in the police. After all, by his own admission he had important information about two murders, and if she didn’t say anything she was leaving herself open to charges of perverting the course of justice and assisting an offender.
Even so, she decided that for now she’d keep quiet and play things by ear. It would be useful to talk to the woman who’d accused Sean of rape, and whose evidence had put him behind bars, but it wouldn’t be easy. Like all rape victims, the woman had lifelong anonymity and Tina would have to pull some strings with old contacts if she was going to track her down. And then what? Even if Sean was completely innocent, the woman was never going to admit it. That was the problem with date rape: it was one person’s word against another. And yet Tina knew she’d feel better about working with Sean once she’d at least had the chance to talk to the woman who, as far as a jury was concerned, had been his victim.
Sheryl Warner lived at the southern end of Camden Town, close to Morningside tube station. Tina knew the area well. It wasn’t far from where she’d lived for a while with her then boyfriend, a fellow cop called John Gallan; there was an Italian restaurant called Conti’s they’d both liked just off the high street. That had been the last time she’d lived with anyone, and it was a long time back now. John had been dead eight years, and it made her wonder where the time had gone, and what she’d be doing in another eight years.
There was no parking near the flats so Tina found a spot on a meter a few streets away. It had been raining but the sky was now beginning to clear. Her route took her past the street where Conti’s was and she couldn’t resist a glance to see if it was still there. But it was gone, replaced with a coffee shop that looked to be doing a roaring trade, and in a way that pleased Tina because she knew that seeing Conti’s as she remembered it, with its traditional red and white chequered tablecloths and empty wine bottles lining the walls, would have just made her sad.
Sheryl’s flat was on the first floor of a large townhouse opposite a well-kept park. At first glance it all looked very nice, like an estate agent’s photo, but a closer look revealed that the park was clearly a hangout for drunks, and barely twenty yards from Sheryl’s front door, but just out of sight, was a dilapidated pre-fab pub that looked more like a fortress, backing on to a huge high-rise estate. As was so often the case in London, Tina thought: turn a corner into the next street and everything changes.
After being buzzed in, Tina climbed a creaking staircase that smelled vaguely of damp. Before she could knock on the door at the top it was opened by a petite blonde girl in her mid-twenties looking effortlessly pretty and cool in a pink vest, grey track pants and thick socks. She smiled widely, revealing newly whitened teeth that were a bit too big for her mouth. ‘Hi Tina,’ she said in a voice that veered dangerously close to cutesy. ‘Nice to meet you.’ She stuck out a hand, and Tina shook it. ‘Come in.’
Sheryl led her into a spacious living room that smelled of perfume and cigarettes and looked like it could use a decent spring clean, and plonked herself down on the sofa, gesturing for Tina to take a seat in the armchair next to
Even so, she decided that for now she’d keep quiet and play things by ear. It would be useful to talk to the woman who’d accused Sean of rape, and whose evidence had put him behind bars, but it wouldn’t be easy. Like all rape victims, the woman had lifelong anonymity and Tina would have to pull some strings with old contacts if she was going to track her down. And then what? Even if Sean was completely innocent, the woman was never going to admit it. That was the problem with date rape: it was one person’s word against another. And yet Tina knew she’d feel better about working with Sean once she’d at least had the chance to talk to the woman who, as far as a jury was concerned, had been his victim.
Sheryl Warner lived at the southern end of Camden Town, close to Morningside tube station. Tina knew the area well. It wasn’t far from where she’d lived for a while with her then boyfriend, a fellow cop called John Gallan; there was an Italian restaurant called Conti’s they’d both liked just off the high street. That had been the last time she’d lived with anyone, and it was a long time back now. John had been dead eight years, and it made her wonder where the time had gone, and what she’d be doing in another eight years.
There was no parking near the flats so Tina found a spot on a meter a few streets away. It had been raining but the sky was now beginning to clear. Her route took her past the street where Conti’s was and she couldn’t resist a glance to see if it was still there. But it was gone, replaced with a coffee shop that looked to be doing a roaring trade, and in a way that pleased Tina because she knew that seeing Conti’s as she remembered it, with its traditional red and white chequered tablecloths and empty wine bottles lining the walls, would have just made her sad.
Sheryl’s flat was on the first floor of a large townhouse opposite a well-kept park. At first glance it all looked very nice, like an estate agent’s photo, but a closer look revealed that the park was clearly a hangout for drunks, and barely twenty yards from Sheryl’s front door, but just out of sight, was a dilapidated pre-fab pub that looked more like a fortress, backing on to a huge high-rise estate. As was so often the case in London, Tina thought: turn a corner into the next street and everything changes.
After being buzzed in, Tina climbed a creaking staircase that smelled vaguely of damp. Before she could knock on the door at the top it was opened by a petite blonde girl in her mid-twenties looking effortlessly pretty and cool in a pink vest, grey track pants and thick socks. She smiled widely, revealing newly whitened teeth that were a bit too big for her mouth. ‘Hi Tina,’ she said in a voice that veered dangerously close to cutesy. ‘Nice to meet you.’ She stuck out a hand, and Tina shook it. ‘Come in.’
Sheryl led her into a spacious living room that smelled of perfume and cigarettes and looked like it could use a decent spring clean, and plonked herself down on the sofa, gesturing for Tina to take a seat in the armchair next to
Similar Books
