There was black ice on the road the following morning. With Khosa driving, Anna took out a file she’d asked Trisha to compile on Cooper from the time of his arrest. An assortment of court orders, police charge sheets, social workers’ reports and, with a Post-it note attached to make it easy to find, a medical assessment.

Holder had written a second note and stuck it on the assessment: ‘This is what I’d read, ma’am.’ The report said that Cooper was medicated, needing hefty doses of anti-epileptic therapy even then.

Despite having spent most of the day before pouring over everything, Anna made herself read it all again, hoping that there might be something of use. In a three-page psychologist’s report, one paragraph caught her eye:

Cooper was reluctant to talk of his sexual contacts. Although not unusual in an adolescent of his age, he did admit to finding any talk of his ‘private parts’ embarrassing. He felt confused and angry by his peers’ constant talk of sex and their fantasies. After much persuasion, he admitted that he felt abnormal and humiliated because he had difficulty with ‘it’ – his own words. He would not be drawn, and when masturbation was mentioned, drew the conversation away from further discussion. When questioned directly as to what exactly ‘it’ was – asking, ‘Do you mean erections?’ – he became agitated.

Anna read the paragraph twice. Cooper was epileptic. An addendum to the report explained that the condition was a known and well-established organic cause of impotence. Reason enough for wanting to wreak revenge on an overtly promiscuous Emily Risman, perhaps? On the other hand, from this report it seemed as likely that thoughts of sexual contact, let alone rape, might not have entered Neville Cooper’s head. Would he risk further humiliation? Had the CCRC squad known this?

---

Tobias had requested that they meet at Cooper’s cousin’s house in Churchdown, two and a half miles outside the city of Gloucester. This neutral venue had more to do with avoiding the press than anything else. Cooper’s mother’s house was under siege and Tobias’s office was, Anna suspected, also being watched.

‘Did Tobias say anything about why he wanted this meeting?’ Anna asked Khosa.

‘No, ma’am. My guess is he sees in you something that may be lacking in Chief Inspector Harris.’

No surprises there, Anna thought.

‘I haven’t told him,’ Khosa said. ‘But we’re acting well within our remit, aren’t we?’

‘Of course we are. Cooper’s conviction was deemed unsafe on the basis of fresh evidence. What we need to know is if that evidence, as well as exonerating Cooper, points us in the direction of anyone else. We’re treading on no one’s toes here, Ryia, and we need to work fast. It would be a disaster if Harris and Slack force another confession out of Cooper. Meanwhile, the real Woodsman is still out there.’

‘I’m not sure Harris would see it that way, ma’am.’

‘Perhaps not, but that isn’t our problem. What’s Harris like, I wonder? Away from work I mean?’

Khosa glanced across at her. ‘Harris? Married, two kids in their early teens. He’s a warden in his local church, does a bit of fishing. Doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke. Lives for his job. Pretty average bloke really.’

Anna’s eyebrows went up.

‘I asked a mate,’ Khosa said.

‘Yes, well, I thought as much. There’s an air of arrogance about him, constantly claiming the moral high ground.’

They lapsed into a pensive silence, which lasted until they arrived in the village. Khosa craned forward to read street signs and eventually, they pulled up outside a semi-detached grey house with yellow windows and doors, fronted by a small, neat garden guarded by a low gate.

‘This is it.’

A curtain flicked back as Khosa killed the engine. ‘I think they’re expecting us, ma’am.’

Tobias emerged from the front door, glancing up and down the street as he held the gate open for Anna. He was tall, wearing thick-rimmed, fashionable glasses and carrying more than a bit of extra weight that a good suit, white shirt and a blue tie couldn’t hide.

He greeted them with a solemn, ‘Thank you for coming, Inspector. Mrs Cooper is grateful, too. I think it would be best if we go directly inside. You can never be sure who might be prying.’

Anna and Khosa shook his hand, then followed him into the house to another small living room, this one devoid of china shire horses. It was cleaner, neater and furnished in a more modern style than the Rismans’. Tobias made cursory introductions to a middle-aged couple, Anita and Joe, who had the dubious honour of being Neville Cooper’s cousins. They graciously disappeared into another room as Tobias brought Anna across to an elderly woman, who sat upright in a straight-backed chair. The resemblance between herself and her son was obvious. Same small eyes and full lips, same round face. She struggled to get up and Tobias lent an arm to help her. She stood, tottering slightly, and took Anna’s hand.

‘Inspector Gwynne, meet Maggie Cooper.’

They shook hands and Anna moved over to an armchair as Maggie sat back down shakily. Khosa pulled out a chair from under a dining table and sat near the window.

Maggie groaned as she settled. ‘You’ll have to excuse me. My legs are not what they used to be.’

Anna glanced down at a pair of swollen oedematous ankles and noted the understatement.

‘Heart trouble,’ explained Mrs Cooper. ‘I take so many tablets I rattle, but…’

They all waited while Tobias arranged himself into a seat. Outside, someone passed by in the street. Fragments of a one-way phone conversation drifted in and then away again, ending in a raucous laugh. A brash snapshot of someone else’s life. Anna wondered, briefly, when anyone in this house had last felt joy like that.

Tobias cleared his throat. ‘I expect you’re wondering why I asked to meet you like this? Let me make it clear that I do not, Inspector, for one moment, wish to compromise your position.’

Maggie Cooper interjected. ‘I saw your picture in the paper. I said to Mr Tobias, she’s too pretty to be a policewoman. It was my idea to ask you here.’ She wheezed as she spoke.

‘Why?’ asked Anna.

‘Because Mr Tobias told me that you’ve been asked to find out who really killed Emily. That means you must believe in Neville.’

‘Mrs Cooper—’

Tobias interjected. ‘Inspector, we realise that reopening the Risman Case after this length of time must be daunting. Mrs Cooper felt that we might be able to offer you our services to help in any way that we can.’

‘I can’t take sides in this, Mr Tobias.’

Tobias didn’t smile. ‘That is not what we’re asking. We are used to not receiving any favours.’

‘Then…’

Tobias held up both hands in a gesture of truce. ‘If you’ll just hear me out. We were campaigning for Neville’s release for seventeen years. There is very little about this case that I am not familiar with.’

Tobias’s eyes locked on hers and she felt Maggie Cooper’s stare burning into the side of her face.

‘I’m grateful for the offer, but you’ll realise that I have full access to all the police files.’

Tobias’s answering smile made his face look like he’d just bitten down on a slice of lemon. He reached down and picked up two box files. ‘This is a distillation of the hard evidence refuting Neville’s conviction.’

‘We’re familiar with the case, sir,’ Khosa said, and Anna sensed the mild irritation in her voice.

‘Excuse me, Constable, but you are not,’ Tobias said. ‘You may have read the police files, but they do not represent the true facts of this case. Let’s just say that disclosure was not CCRC’s or the CPS’s strong point. Neville Cooper was nowhere near the area on the day Emily Risman died. He was in Gloucester. We have witnesses who were previously too intimidated to come forward. Neville was with his friend William Bradley. Bradley was interviewed by police and a statement taken early in the investigation. Initially he admitted being with Neville that night, first at the amusement arcade and then in the cinema. Later he changed his statement, claiming he couldn’t be sure that it was the same night as that of the murder. Bradley was on probation and was awaiting a hearing on a burglary charge. At that hearing, he was given a light sentence because he’d helped police in securing Neville’s conviction. Bradley is currently in prison and has been labelled a pathological liar, yet the Appeal Court ruled his evidence as perfectly acceptable time and again.’

‘Mr Tobias—’

‘We have forensic evidence via ESDA, electrostatic detection testing, that Neville’s confession was obtained falsely. Police wrote out the statement double-spaced for Neville to sign, and added incriminating sentences later. The added sentences indented the cover of another document that showed up last year. This was in DS Maddox’s hand. Neville insisted he was in Gloucester and that he and Bradley hitched a lift back that evening in a white van. The driver was never traced, but we found a scribbled note – again in Maddox’s hand – indicating that a witness reported seeing two boys being picked up on the ring road at a little after ten p.m. that night. A witness statement was never taken or followed up.

‘The police searched the Coopers’ property twice before the bloodstained underclothes were found during a third search, supposedly hidden under some coal. It will come as no surprise to you to learn that the officer who found this item was DS Maddox. Despite being suspended five years later for misconduct in another case, the Appeal Court judges consistently ruled that there was no reason to doubt his propriety in the Woodsman investigation.’

‘I understand that DS Maddox is no longer with us,’ Anna said.

‘No. And I, for one, do not regret his passing,’ Tobias said and didn’t wait for Anna to respond. ‘You have no idea what these people did in the name of “justice”. Maggie found a cinema ticket in Neville’s coat with the name and time of the film he had seen on it. Maddox denied ever receiving it, although there is mention of a “ticket” in the evidence book at the station where Cooper was held. Maddox claimed that this was an old bus ticket, which was never produced in court. Maddox had bragged and bet that they would get Neville convicted.’ Tobias stopped, his lips a thin angry line. ‘These facts will re-emerge at the retrial. I am going to make sure of that. But there is still evidence that we haven’t seen.’

‘You’re not suggesting that there’s still a conspiracy?’

‘I’m not suggesting anything. But I know that if Neville is charged a second time, for the murder of Nia Hopkins, the retrial will turn into a farce and there are some people, some very high-ranking people, who would welcome that.’

‘Such as?’

‘The prosecuting barrister in the original case was a QC called John Jeavons.’

‘I know that name, don’t I?’

‘You should. His career blossomed following Neville’s conviction. He is the Sir John Jeavons who now sits in the High Court of Justice. If we can prove that the cinema ticket existed, that would bring into question just how much the prosecution knew and chose to withhold from the defence. It could prove to be a very embarrassing few days.’

Anna nodded.

‘We don’t talk to the Gloucester police any more,’ Mrs Cooper said with surprisingly little bitterness. ‘That was why we wanted to talk to you.’

‘All we want,’ added Tobias, ‘is a fair hearing now. Neville’s defence team behaved in an inexcusably heavy-handed manner. They ran an alternative defence, without Neville’s permission, seeking to limit the damage by suggesting that Neville was in a state of mental confusion after his fits – ignoring his alibi and the retraction of his confession. The defence barrister is now a judge on the Queen’s bench. He’s not going to relish the criticism that’s bound to come his way either. It looks like the bugger rolled over and played dead at the end.’

‘Do you have any children, Inspector?’ Mrs Cooper asked.

‘No.’

‘I didn’t think I’d been very lucky with Neville. I had him late and he was a difficult child with his fits and all. But he’s still my boy and I’ve had cause to be very proud of him over these last years. I told him never to give up, never to stop believing in himself. We have to stop them doing this to people.’ She looked pointedly at Anna. ‘What if it’s your child next time?’ She hesitated and began to cough; a bubbling bark that left her gasping for breath.

Tobias looked across. ‘OK, Maggie?’

Mrs Cooper sat with a handkerchief over her mouth and nodded weakly. The spasm took the colour from her face, her lips aubergine against the pallor.

Tobias sighed. ‘I knew this was a bad idea. We’d better get you home. Inspector, I’m sorry to have to cut this short.’ He pulled out a card and handed it to Anna. ‘My numbers. Home and office. Ring me at any time, if you think I can help.’

Anna watched as the two cousins came back in and began fussing over the old lady. Anna excused herself and went to the bathroom. When she came out, Tobias was hovering near the front door.

‘Sorry about this. She isn’t very well. Having Neville in jail was the last thing she needed.’

‘It must be hard.’

‘She doesn’t care much about herself, only Neville. Look, I hope you haven’t seen this as a total waste of time.’

Anna shook her head and conceded. ‘I’m sure I would need to talk to her at some point. At least this way she knows who I am.’

Tobias hesitated with his hand on the latch. ‘What I really want you to take away from here is the certainty I have that there is other evidence out there somewhere. Things we haven’t seen. Things that not only exonerate Neville but implicate someone else…’ He caught himself. ‘Neville’s been in and out of a secure unit for the last two years. Depression mainly. Seventeen years have taken a significant toll. More than anyone should have to bear. Three weeks ago, I went in to a travel agent and booked a holiday for the family. I thought that we were out of the woods at long last.’

If Tobias had intended a pun, he showed no sign.

When Anna reached the gate, Tobias said, ‘With your permission, I’ll send you a file of what we’ve found. It makes for very interesting reading.’

They returned to the car and Anna drove away in silence. A numb dull anger thumped away inside her. She tried very hard to quell it with some deep breaths. It was essential that she remain dispassionate, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

‘It’s hard to believe, isn’t it, ma’am?’ Khosa’s candid assessment echoed her own thoughts.

‘That it is.’

‘I can’t see it happening today though, can you?’ Khosa asked.

Anna didn’t answer immediately. She liked Khosa. She was pleasant, helpful, and keen to learn and observe. She didn’t want to mar her enthusiasm with too much cynicism.

‘I’d like to think so, but if the circumstances arose and public pressure was great enough…’

‘You don’t think Cooper’s guilty, ma’am, do you?’

‘No.’

‘I spoke to Cooper’s cousin while you were in the loo. He was laying it on thick about how awful it has been for Cooper’s mother. Did you know that the house they owned in Millend was burned out three months after he was sentenced? There was no question that it was arson. The old lady was lucky to get out alive.’

Anna didn’t respond. A depressingly familiar story. The stigma was real. The finger constantly pointed.

‘I think I need a drink, Ryia.’

Khosa turned to her phone and started texting. They were on the outskirts of the city by now. It was already dark. Khosa finally spoke, ‘My mate, the same one who had the skinny on DCI Harris, says there’s a place near Gloucester. It’s a coppers’ watering hole though. If you don’t mind that.’

‘Anywhere will do.’

---

They ran the gauntlet of a dozen smokers to enter the Rock and Fountain’s bar. Anna slipped Khosa a tenner and the DC ordered. Her white wine spritzer came in a tall glass, nicely chilled.

Anna scanned the room over the rim of her glass, froze as she clocked a familiar face, and pivoted back towards Khosa, who handed over her change. ‘Tell me that’s not who I think it is in the far corner.’

Khosa looked over her shoulder. ‘It is, ma’am.’

Anna groaned. ‘I don’t suppose we could quietly slip out the back, could we?’

‘Too late, ma’am. He’s coming over.’

‘A little after-work refreshment, ladies?’

Anna turned towards the voice and looked up into DCI Harris’s face with what she hoped was a look of surprise. ‘Just called in on our way back to the station, Chief Inspector.’

‘Got a minute, have you?’

‘Actually—’

‘Won’t take a second. I want you to meet an old friend of mine.’

He led the way through the crowd to a corner table. There sat a balding, squat, powerful-looking man with no neck and a pair of dark brown eyes under hooded brows.

‘Anna Gwynne, meet John Wyngate.’

Anna muttered a hello. Wyngate made no effort to return the gesture.

‘We were just reminiscing,’ Harris said. ‘John and I both worked with Ewan Briggs during our formative years.’

Wyngate drained the remains of his pint in two swallows and pushed the empty glass towards a loitering Khosa.

‘Get the gentleman a refill, Constable, will you?’ Harris said.

Khosa looked at Harris despairingly, the muscle of her jaw working as she ground her teeth.

‘My shout,’ Anna said, and handed over another twenty.

Shaking her head, Khosa took the empty glasses to the bar as Wyngate watched in dour silence.

‘I was telling John of your involvement with our Woodsman,’ Harris said.

‘Really.’

Wyngate sat back and put an E-cigarette to his lips. ‘Must be a bastard after this length of time.’

‘It isn’t easy.’

‘Never is. Just you and Catwoman, is it?’

‘There are others, but we’re a small team.’

‘Quality, not quantity, eh?’ Wyngate did nothing to hide the heavy sarcasm in his voice.

‘Someone must think so.’

Wyngate’s gaze never wavered from Anna’s face. ‘You sure you’re going to be able to stay the course?’

Anna opted for silence.

Khosa came back and Wyngate reached for the full pint without a thank you.

‘What brings you to Gloucester, Mr Wyngate?’ Khosa asked. She made it a blunt, direct question. The sort she’d normally reserve for suspects.

‘Old friends,’ Wyngate said. Only his eyes were visible behind the pint glass raised to his lips. Anna hoped he wasn’t smirking. She wanted to believe this man had a little integrity left.

‘You won’t be staying long then?’

Harris sat back and sipped lemonade, watching the exchanges with an odd, detached amusement.

‘Don’t fence with me, girlie. I’ve had more college shits like you crying in the bog than you’ve had chicken baltis,’ Wyngate snarled.

Khosa stared back defiantly.

‘Now, now, you two,’ said Harris.

‘Have you any regrets, Mr Wyngate?’ asked Anna.

‘About what?’

‘Neville Cooper. The Appeal Court’s decision that his conviction was unsafe must have grated.’

Wyngate took a long drag on his E-cigarette before answering. ‘It was the court that put him away for seventeen years, not me.’

‘But you still feel that’s OK?’

‘Your heart’s bleeding all over your shirt, Inspector. I was a copper that ran on instinct. What we did was standard practice at the time. We didn’t have the benefit of help from clever people like you then.’ He turned to Harris. ‘Makes you wonder how the hell we managed, doesn’t it?’

‘It seems you managed to convict the wrong man,’ said Anna.

‘I didn’t question what went on. The CPS were convinced we had enough to nail him, so that’s what we did.’ A slow smile appeared on his lips and he looked across at Harris. ‘My boss at the time didn’t encourage discussion of the finer points of police work. You just got on with it.’ His smile vanished and he glared at Anna again. ‘We gave everyone in that community peace of mind for seventeen years. That may not mean a lot to you, but as far as I’m concerned it’s what being a copper was all about.’

‘Of course. I mean, why let the truth get in the way of peace of mind?’ Anna said.

Wyngate frowned. But Anna kept her powder dry on the rape cases. This was not the right place for that.

‘Any scapegoat in a storm, is that it?’ Khosa said.

Wyngate shook his head. ‘I was only interested in putting away the nonce that killed Emily Risman. If it turns out that Cooper really is that nonce, let’s just say I won’t be too disappointed.’ His smile revealed a row of small and widely spaced teeth.

‘What if he isn’t?’ Anna said.

Wyngate shrugged and lifted the full glass to his lips, but his eyes never left Anna’s.

Khosa looked at her watch. ‘We should be getting back, ma’am. The meeting was for six thirty, wasn’t it?’

Anna embraced the lie. ‘Sir, Mr Wyngate, you’ll have to excuse us.’

Anna stood and followed Khosa to the door. Halfway there, a peal of brassy laughter burst from Harris’s table and she turned to see the men almost doubling over in glee. There was no way of knowing if she was the butt of their joke; the chances, however, were high.

Khosa stared openly at Wyngate. ‘What a prick,’ she said.

Anna kept on walking. ‘Come on, Ryia, let’s get out of here before I throw up.’