Chapter 42

Chapter 42

She kept her eyes glued to him, never allowing him to disappear; determinedly, patiently, dogging his heels. Helen knew she was taking a massive risk, following Dave Reynolds as he left the family home to walk through nearby woodland, but she felt compelled to do so, convinced that he would somehow give himself away. Nevertheless, she shuddered at the thought of what she would do if Reynolds spotted her, or worse, confronted her. There was no way she could excuse her presence here, this remote wood was miles from her flat, and even further from Southampton Central. No, if detected, there would be nothing for it but to come clean. Helen was here after hours for one reason and one reason alone. To expose Dave Reynolds as a liar, a rapist, a serial offender who posed a profound threat to women.

Yet there seemed little that was dangerous or intimidating about the middle-aged officer tonight. He'd emerged from his impressive detached house in Bitterne Park, clad in jeans, muck boots and a faded North Face puffa, his loyal whippet gazing up at him lovingly as it trotted by his side. And this unreserved affection seemed to be returned by everyone Reynolds encountered on his evening stroll. On several occasions, the diminutive officer paused to talk to fellow dog walkers, to joggers, to friends, all of whom seemed delighted to see him. Young or old, female or male, they went out of their way to pass the time of day with him, smiling, often guffawing at his impromptu remarks. They all seemed delighted by these chance meetings, as did Reynolds, who wore a happy, relaxed smile. Indeed, the only participant who seemed frustrated by these regular stops was the dog, who was clearly keen to get on with the serious business of chasing squirrels.

Helen kept pace with the off-duty police constable, matching him stride for stride, disappearing into the shadows whenever he paused to chat to another well-wisher. From her discreet vantage point, she watched him, drinking in his gestures, his body language, the timbre of his voice. There was no doubt he was a likeable figure, with a handsome face and a ready wit, as evidenced by the laughter he often provoked. Clearly, he was a genuinely popular figure, both within the Force and in civilian life. Was it possible that all his admirers were wrong? That they'd all had the wool pulled over their eyes?

Reynolds was moving away from his latest conversation and Helen kept with him, her mind a jumble of conflicting thoughts. She'd been warned off Reynolds in no uncertain terms by Holmes, yet she was damned if she was going to let it go. No smoke without fire was hardly a healthy precept for responsible policing, but there was something in his accusers' testimonies that rang true for Helen. It was the arrogance with which they'd allegedly been treated, the casual disregard for their feelings, their well-being, their very existence that struck home, leaving a bitter taste in Helen's mouth. Part of her knew she was clutching at straws, but part of her felt convinced that if she watched Reynolds for long enough, he would eventually reveal his true self.

That's why she was here tonight, hoping against hope that he might lead her to some remote location, some forgotten building, or perhaps even ditch the dog and sneak back into the city centre. At the very least, she hoped the family man would reveal his inner darkness, his disinterest in his wife and teenage son who he'd left at home, by chatting to, sizing up, then following a young female that he chanced upon in the woods. God knows there were enough of them about, either dutifully walking family pets or sneaking off to meet boys and smoke dope. Helen had spotted a couple tonight, but Reynolds appeared barely to notice them, with eyes only for old friends. It made Helen's blood boil, she was absolutely convinced he was dangerous, that he'd reveal himself instantly when he thought he wasn't being watched. But there was no evidence of wrongdoing on show tonight; in fact, there was nothing out of the ordinary at all.

Snapping out of her thoughts, Helen realized that Reynolds had suddenly stopped. Now he was turning, as if preparing to look in her direction. Darting forwards, she flattened herself against a nearby tree, her heart thumping. Now she heard rustling leaves, Reynolds on the move … but to Helen's huge relief, she realized his footsteps were getting fainter as he continued on his way. Unnerved, panicking, Helen breathed out, long and low, trying to still the thumping in her chest. What should she do now? Take heed of this warning and retreat? Or press on regardless? She knew what she should do, what the sensible course of action was, but Helen had never taken the easy path. So, emerging from her hiding place, she crept carefully forwards, keeping a wary eye on her quarry. But with each step a little voice in her head warned her of her folly. What if she was discovered? What if she was exposed? And what if she'd got it all wrong?

What if Dave Reynolds was an innocent man?