47

Elaine had followed Sarah out to the yard. ‘Sorry, Sarah, I can tell you want to be left alone, but I need some bloody company after that.’

Sarah lit her cigarette. ‘That’s all right.’

For a while she just smoked in silence.

Then Elaine said, ‘What do you think she’ll get? Manslaughter or murder?’

Sarah sighed. ‘Manslaughter, I think. There’s an intent to harm maybe, but probably not enough for murder. It’ll be complicated . . .’

‘Any bet on what she’ll serve?’

‘No idea. The abuse will be mitigation, of course, but then she never told: the judge won’t like that. I’d say two to five years. But you never know. It could even be suspended.’

‘Do you agree with that?’

‘I don’t bloody know! My last job, I remember saying . . . to Steve, it was, you know the DC who was here earlier? We disagreed about something. Anyway I told him then: sentencing, mitigation, the bigger picture, that stuff: it’s not our job. The law, that’s what we do. Our job’s just to find out what happened and to put them in front of the judge.’

Elaine said, ‘You’re way beyond me there.’

Sarah shrugged. ‘Do you know what? I don’t even know whether I’m right any more. Nothing brings Tania back anyway.’ She threw her cigarette on the ground and lit another. ‘I know I wish it was Stephenson who’d killed her.’

‘Yep. Me too.’

They watched the gates open and a car arrive, and an officer leading a young man in handcuffs out of the back seat and towards the doors of custody.

Elaine said, ‘Do you feel sorry for Abigail?’

‘No. I don’t.’ And then, after a pause, ‘Well, I don’t know.’

‘Imagine finding yourself married to him.’

‘I can’t. Not at all.’

‘But still . . . I don’t get it. Why did no one stand up to those creeps?’

‘It was a different time then. Nobody was honest about anything.’

‘Yeah, I guess so.’ Elaine looked at Sarah thoughtfully. ‘Hard for you too, was it? Being gay, I mean?’

Sarah laughed. ‘Well, yes. I guess it was.’ She shifted her weight, scratched the back of her neck. There was still a lot to do. ‘Don’t you need to go off duty?’

Elaine laughed now. ‘Haven’t you noticed? It’s two o’clock in the morning. Gavin’s on nights. Who on earth do you think’s looking after the kids?’

‘I don’t know. Who is?’

‘I called my mum. She’s staying the night. I’m here for the duration.’

Sarah smiled. ‘Good. Thanks for that. You were brilliant interviewing Katherine, by the way. I’m going to draft the charging advice for Abigail. Could you call the constabularies where the other women have made historic complaints against Stephenson, see if they want to send someone down to arrest him while he’s in custody. I’ll call Fedden. Someone needs to update the next of kins before this gets in the press, and it can’t be you or me, sadly.’

Elaine nodded. Then she said, ‘Maybe he’ll serve more time than she does in the end. And there’s the added bonus that he’s got so much more to lose. That Wiki page she mentioned is going to be updated soon, and a whole lot of different stuff’s going to come up when you google him.’

Sarah stubbed her second cigarette out.

‘I know you don’t care, but you’ve done a good job, Elaine. You’re a good cop.’

‘Thank you.’ Then, after a moment’s silence, ‘Don’t tell anyone, particularly not the boss, but I have to admit to a feeling of satisfaction that we’ve got the bastard.’

Sarah left Elaine to charge Stephenson and Abigail. They would both be remanded in custody to appear before the magistrates. Abigail’s rape allegations against Stephenson would have to be investigated too, but they’d need advice on how to proceed. In the meantime, Tania’s death would begin its way through the courts.

Sarah had offered to do the charging herself, but Elaine said no: she was horribly late now anyway, and it would be a pleasure. But no one should expect her in early the following day, if at all. And she’d be taking the time back in lieu, not as money – just in case anyone thought recent experiences had made her go soft on the job. She still hated the bastards. All of them.

Sarah smiled and kissed her on the cheek.

Elaine pulled a face. ‘Admit it. You fancy me something rotten, don’t you?’

And Sarah laughed and said, ‘Yep, I do.’

Before she went off duty, Sarah watched Stephenson on the custody CCTV. He was sitting on the plastic mattress, wearing his reading glasses, still studying the score he had brought with him.

It was nearly five in the morning by the time she got home. The house was silent. She couldn’t sleep. She put on a recording of Sibelius’ violin concerto. She closed her eyes and gave herself up to that first note, so tenderly dissonant. For a long time she sat like that, following the line of the violin, allowing herself to concentrate on its solitary voice sometimes holding firm and sometimes overwhelmed by the growing swell of the orchestra.