All the Rage

Adam Fawley
5 April 2018
09.19

I'm still in the shower when the doorbell goes. By the time I make it downstairs ten minutes later Somer and Everett are standing awkwardly in the kitchen as Alex fiddles about with the kettle. Fussing is not like her, but it's obvious enough why she's doing it now: she wasn't expecting company and she's wearing a favourite but now tight-fitting jumper which makes it quite obvious she's pregnant. When Somer catches my eye she looks quickly away, her face flushed; she must be remembering what she said a couple of days ago. About the reasons people might not tell the whole truth.

`˜Oh, Adam `“ there you are,' says Alex with manifest relief. `˜I'll leave you to it.'

`˜Sir,' says Somer as soon as the kitchen door closes, `˜the other day, I didn't mean `“'

`˜Forget it `“ it's not important. What is it?'

`˜We may have something,' says Everett. `˜Remember Ashley Brotherton?'

I frown. `˜I thought we'd discounted him?'

`˜We did.'

`˜So what's changed?' I look at Somer and then back at Everett. `˜He had an alibi, didn't he? His bloody van had an alibi.'

`˜A woman rang in first thing this morning,' says Somer. `˜She said she saw a van on the Marston Ferry Road the morning Faith was attacked. She didn't remember much apart from the fact that the van was white and had a logo like a shell on the side. Baxter's been trying to track it down but it was looking like a wild goose chase. Only then `“'

`˜Only then Erica mentioned it to me,' says Everett. She holds out her mobile. It's a picture of a van, and even though the logo on the side isn't a shell, I can see why you might remember it that way, especially if you only got a glimpse. It's a ram's head with a huge curling horn. In profile. And below it a five-bar gate surrounded by daffodils that looks like something out of Enid Blyton.

Ramsgate Renovations. The same company Ashley Brotherton works for.

`˜I emailed it to the witness,' says Somer, `˜and she's fairly sure this is what she saw. Not a hundred per cent, but pretty certain.'

`˜And the only Ramsgate van that could have been on the Marston Ferry Road that morning is the one Ashley Brotherton drives,' Everett reminds me. `˜All the rest are accounted for.'

`˜But even if it was his vehicle,' says Somer, `˜it can't have been him. Fifty different people put him at the Headington crematorium that morning.'

`˜So either he's worked out how to be in two places at the same time or he let someone else borrow that van.'

`˜It's the most obvious explanation,' says Ev. `˜Though he told me point-blank that no one else could have been driving it that day.'

`˜Then it's someone he cares about `“ someone he's prepared to lie for. A relative? A mate? A mate who could be that mystery boyfriend of Sasha's we still haven't ID'd? Maybe that's the connection between those two girls.'

`˜It wouldn't even need to be a boyfriend,' says Somer. `˜It could just be someone she met once or twice `“ someone she thought it was safe to get into a vehicle with.'

`˜Or he could have just attacked her from behind and dragged her off the street,' says Ev grimly. `˜Like he did to Faith. He didn't have to actually know either of them. They could simply have been in the wrong place at the wrong time.'

But I'm not so sure.

`˜Sasha, yes, absolutely. That had to be random `“ there's no way anyone could have known she'd be in that precise spot that night. But Faith was different: I think that was premeditated. I think the person who assaulted her planned it very carefully, and that may well have included making damn sure he wasn't in his own vehicle when he did it.'

Everett nods. `˜If he wanted to cover his tracks `“ why not.'

`˜Which leaves us with two possibilities,' says Somer. `˜Either Brotherton knows exactly who borrowed his van that day but is protecting him or he doesn't know anything about it and never did. He was at the funeral for most of the day so it's not impossible.'

The kettle has boiled but I'm not interested in tea. `˜OK, let's get him in. The witness sighting is more than enough to justify that.'

`˜Though we need to remember Brotherton has no criminal record,' adds Ev, flushing slightly. `˜Not even speeding. As far as I can tell he just looks after his grandad and does his job `“'

`˜So much the better. He has more to lose.'

* * *

The search for Sasha Blake resumed at first light. It's been a gruelling and thankless few hours since then, with nothing to show for it. Sergeant Barnetson is now directing the group working along the river; there are two more teams covering the fields to the north. At least they don't have the press breathing down their necks any more. Someone from the Oxford Mail tried to ambush him for a comment about the Roadside Rapist when he arrived, but Barnetson's not stupid. He's not going to get mugged into saying something that ends up on the evening news.

His mobile throbs against his thigh and crackles into life. He tugs his glove off and fishes the phone out from under his waterproofs.

`˜Barnetson? It's Gislingham `“ just wanted to check in. See if you've got anything.'

`˜All I've `њgot`ќ is wet feet and a cold arse. But thanks for asking.'

`˜How about the press?'

`˜Couple of hacks in the car park, one or two camera guys, but we're keeping them behind the tape. And right now, I can't see many of 'em volunteering to get up to their balls in mud. The weather's on our side on that, if nothing else. Though you know as well as I do how quickly that could change.'

He doesn't need to spell it out: a search site thronged with hacks will mean only one thing.

* * *