Swift hadn’t been around the MCU for a few days. Mackenzie had had to get her own coffee. His absence made her realise that she actually liked his morning visits, despite the fact that she had protested profusely against them. She missed the puppy-dog eyes aimed endearingly at her from somewhere up in the vicinity of the ceiling. He was researching animal DNA testing in the US. Dog hair analysis had been used to convict various people in different cases over there. Less so in the UK. But he’d heard that Liverpool John Moores University had teamed up with North Wales Police to identify dogs that had been involved in attacks on livestock. Apparently British farmers were losing in the region of £1.5 million a year in such attacks. This programme was to identify individual culprits in an attempt to curb these incidents.
He called them, spoke to one of the team and asked if they could identify by breed the dog hairs found on the bed in the spare room of Moreton’s cottage. They told him they could, and if it was a cross, the breeds it came from. He knew the blood on Ricky’s mouth wasn’t human but needed Ricky to be ruled out. A vet had taken blood from a very compliant Bert in the pound and also a hair sample. The lab said they could help. Everything was couriered to Liverpool.
While Napier and Gallinis were still in custody, Mackenzie was busy traipsing down various threads about men’s experiences at All Saints in the seventies. This inevitably led to tangential, late-night strolls through people’s lives that caught her eye. Fuelling a vicarious interest in the way their lives had panned out over the intervening years since they’d left school. She couldn’t help herself as she digitally stalked men she had never met, and surely never would, for hours on end. Some had led what she thought of as ordinary, fairly unremarkable lives. Then she castigated herself for being so patronising. But there were also a few successful entrepreneurs, a couple of actors, one of whom she was vaguely familiar with through a TV series. A concert pianist, another MP who had lost his seat a few years before and had taken to making documentaries. One thing, though, did strike her. Which was that the more successful they were the less aggrieved they seemed about their treatment at the hands of Alistair Moreton. One thing also became clear. His abuse was widespread and non-discriminating. It was just a question of how some had processed it later in life and whether they had moved on or not.
She packed up her things late one night. It had been a long day and she needed her bed. She was walking to her car in the underground car park when she heard the door to the lift lobby slam shut. For some reason this made her instinctively quicken her step. Silly, really, she thought as she did it. This is a police station car park. She reached her car when a voice, unexpectedly close behind her, said, ‘What’s kept you at work so late?’ It was Warner.
‘Nothing,’ she replied, feeling immediately uncomfortable. She opened the driver’s door of the car.
‘You and I both know that’s not true. What’s he got you looking into?’
‘Who?’
‘Cross.’
‘Nothing. I’m working another case.’
‘On your way home?’ he then asked.
‘I am.’
‘So why don’t we go for that drink you keep promising me,’ he said, taking a slight step closer to her.
‘I haven’t promised you any such thing,’ she replied, putting her backpack on the passenger seat.
‘Look, I know we might have got off on the wrong foot but why don’t we put that right by stopping for a quick drink on the way out,’ he said.
‘I can’t. My boyfriend is waiting at home for me. He’ll have cooked.’
‘I’m sure he can keep it warm. I’d love to have a chat. Get to know what your plans are, career-wise. See if I can help. Put a word in somewhere. At least offer you some advice.’
‘No thanks,’ she said as she went to get into the car.
He put his hand on her wrist. She pulled it away.
‘Come on. Don’t be so uptight.’
‘Please don’t touch me.’
He then grabbed her elbow as she leant down to get into the car, facing away from him. He pulled her forcibly round and towards him. Her hip banged painfully on the car door. As she instinctively put her hand to it he grabbed her other elbow, pinning them both to her sides and pushed her against the car. He leant forward to try and kiss her. She was so startled that she instinctively moved her head down to avoid it and accidentally dealt him a very impressive headbutt to his lips. He yelped like an injured dog and stepped back, dabbing at his lip. He looked at his finger covered in blood and back at her.
‘You stupid cow. What the fuck did you do that for?’ He then leapt forward again and tried to grab her. But he hadn’t seen her reach into her handbag, which was still hanging off her shoulder, and bring out a small canister of pepper spray. She sprayed it straight into his eyes.
‘Fuck you!’ she yelled before getting into the car and starting it up as he stumbled around the car park lashing out blindly. She reversed quickly, having to swerve to avoid the staggering Warner. She then sped out of the car park. Her hand was shaking as she tried to put her electronic fob against the automatic barrier control panel. She dropped it on the ground outside the car and had to open the door to pick it up. But the seatbelt stopped her. She felt herself beginning to panic. Her mouth was dry. She finally managed to grab the fob, open the barrier and screech out of the car park. She drove for a few minutes before pulling over and bursting into frustrated, angry tears.
*
Swift was understandably incandescent.
‘I know where he’s staying,’ he said, grabbing his coat.
‘What?’ asked Mackenzie. ‘And what exactly do you intend doing?’
‘What do you think?’
‘Oh, don’t be stupid. It’ll only make things worse.’
‘How could they get any worse? You’ve split his lip and temporarily blinded the bastard. What if he goes to Carson?’
‘He’s hardly likely to do that, is he?’
‘Oh yeah, and how did you figure that out?’
She then told him about Warner’s hitting on her in the office kitchen. How Ottey had come in at just the right time. It could be proved it was part of a pattern.
‘Why are you only telling me about this now?’ Swift asked her.
‘Because I knew you’d react just like this.’
‘All right, I get it.’ He thought for a moment. ‘But you need to call Ottey and tell her about tonight. You then need to email her and confirm what you said in the call.’
‘Really?’
‘Definitely.’
‘Okay. I’ll do it in the morning.’
‘Do it now. If you leave it till the morning it could be said it didn’t have that much effect on you. Wasn’t as bad as you’re making out. Trust me.’