Chapter 39

Chapter 39

‘It's a simple question, PC Reynolds. Perhaps you'd do me the courtesy of answering it?'

Helen leaned forwards, reducing the space between them. Almost instinctively, Dave Reynolds reclined in his seat, as if keen to keep a safe distance between them. His eyes flitted from Grace to DC Wilson, then back to her again, before he eventually replied:

‘Look, I've always said that I'm keen to help, but I honestly don't remember the details of what we talked about.'

‘Come now, Dave, it was two days ago ,' Helen countered, gently chiding him. ‘Surely you can't have forgotten everything? You're in the underpass, you see this girl, young, homeless, vulnerable, so you approach her. Are you wanting to see if she's in trouble? If she's conscious? If she's on drugs? What's your primary concern?'

‘To check that she's OK, I suppose. If a beat officer sees someone dossing down outdoors, we chat to them, see what their situation is.'

‘And what was hers?'

‘I don't recall specifically, but maybe … she'd run away from home. Or been kicked out …'

Helen said nothing, darting a look at DC Wilson, who was studiously taking notes.

‘Look, why is he taking notes?' Reynolds interjected angrily. ‘I thought this was just a chat.'

‘It is. If this was a formal interview, you'd know about it. This is just an information-gathering exercise.'

‘In an interview suite?'

‘I thought it was best to conduct it here. More discreet, more private.'

Reynolds didn't respond, but looked deeply disgruntled.

‘Sorry, so just to clarify,' DC Wilson piped up, checking his notes. ‘She said she'd run away from home and then what?'

‘How many times?' Reynolds fired back. ‘I probably I asked her if she had somewhere to go, she said no, and I made a mental note to check back in on her the following day.'

‘So you do remember what you talked about?'

‘It's what I say to all of them. Look, I don't mean to talk out of turn, but I've already apologized for my oversight, I've reassured you that I don't have any specific information relating to Naomi Watson, so honestly I don't see what purpose is served by us sitting here talking in circles. I've said all I have to say and as my shift is long since finished, I really would like to—'

‘It wasn't just Naomi I wanted to talk to you about.'

Helen's tone was firm and it had the desired effect, silencing Reynolds instantly. Opening her file, she continued:

‘I'd also like to ask you about some accusations that were made against you in 2021, 2018 and 2016. Allegations of sexual misconduct …'

Reynolds didn't blink, but Helen clocked the colour slowly draining from his face.

‘They were made by young women, whose ages ranged from fourteen to seventeen years old, who allege that you sexually assaulted them whilst on duty, gaining their trust and th—'

‘What the hell is this?' Reynolds demanded loudly. ‘Those allegations were fully investigated and revealed to be total fabrications. Outright lies.'

‘All of them? They were all lying?'

‘Hundred per cent and it's outrageous that you'd suggest otherwise.'

‘But why would three young women, who were totally unknown to you, unknown to each other, separately allege that you'd attacked them?'

‘You'd have to ask them that.'

‘Maybe I will.'

Helen was pleased to see a reaction, so she pressed on.

‘But I'd like to hear your explanation first.'

‘Look, they were pissed, drugged up, whatever. Young girls who should have been at home, studying, but instead were out on the town late at night. Maybe they were from broken homes, maybe their parents didn't love them, maybe they thought they might get a pay-off. I don't know why they made up those allegations, it's beyond comprehension. I never did anything to them, other than try to get them home safely.'

‘Yet their testimonies are striking similar,' Helen continued, keeping up the pressure. ‘They all alleged that you won their trust, said you'd take them somewhere safe, then assaulted them somewhere out of sight – in a derelict building, in the back of a police van.'

‘No, no, no. I never touched them. They are fantasists, liars, junkies. Yet apparently you'd believe their word over mine?'

It was a challenge, but one Helen wasn't minded to respond to.

‘Well thanks for clearing that up, PC Reynolds,' she responded genially, sitting back in her chair. ‘Just for the record, so I'm clear, there's no connection between these past allegations and Naomi Watson's recent disappearance? Nothing you'd like to add to your account or tell me ab—'

‘I've said all I'm going to say. If you are going to slander me, harass me, then I want my police rep and a lawyer present.'

‘As is your right,' Helen intoned, nodding solemnly. ‘Well that's all for now, we're done here.'

Helen rose, but Reynolds made no move to leave, glaring at her with contempt.

‘DI Grace, before you go, let me just say this,' the constable replied, eyeballing DC Wilson until he lowered his pen. ‘I have worked at this station for a very long time. I am a well-respected, well-liked member of this police community, with several decorations on my record and a history of sticking up for my fellow officers. No one in this place has a bad word to say about me, never has done. You might do well to remember that. I would hate for you to embarrass me, or indeed embarrass yourself, by spreading these wild theories any further. I don't mean to teach an old dog new tricks, but a word of advice from an experienced, comrade-in-arms. Let this go .'