the question of consent. Was there true consent to the act of intercourse, or was it obtained by fear, force or fraud? Henry had dealt with enough rapes to know the pitfalls of proving it to a court; Siobhan would struggle to convince a jury she had been raped.
It was the others elements of her allegation which worried him.
Sexual harassment.
Indecent assault.
The former was strongly condemned by the police service and many male officers had lost their jobs because of it; the latter was a serious criminal offence which was often used in place of rape because it was easier to prove. It could lose him his job too — especially if he was in prison.
And I stopped myself from shagging her just to prevent future repercussions, he thought. Now I wish I’d carried on. What the hell was behind this?
Henry calmly relayed his side of the story.
‘ Whatever the truth of the matter,’ Morton said when Henry had concluded, ‘and I don’t suppose we’ll get to it anyway, this is a very serious matter, Henry. Very, very serious.’
‘ I realise that.’
‘ It affects so many others, directly or indirectly — the job, the squad, your wife, kids… God, the effect it could have on them beggars the imagination,’ Morton emphasised, making Henry squirm. ‘Your friends, colleagues. Mud sticks, old lad, even if these allegations prove to be unfounded.’
And wives divorce you.
And friends snub you.
Oh, shit.
‘ But at the moment,’ Morton explained, ‘no one but we three know about this. Maybe there is a solution. Let me have a think about it.’
His mind reeling, Henry made his way back to the comfort zone of his desk and slumped heavily down in the chair. His first reaction had been to find Siobhan and demand of her what the hell she was playing at, but he’d been severely warned against this course of action. Anything which smelled of intimidation or victimisation would be dealt with harshly, Morton had said.
Henry’s thoughts were bleak. He had never considered himself to be a sexual harasser. The notion made his skin crawl. Maybe he always had been, but hadn’t recognised it. Maybe he was so immersed in the sexist white heterosexual culture, he couldn’t see when he was harassing a woman. Could he be one of those men who made his blood boil? Those who constantly touched women, patted their arses, brushed against their tits? Perhaps he was.
Kate!
She would go ballistic. His eyes closed in a shudder of despair.
Two years of getting his marriage back on the straight and narrow. Working hard at it. Putting family first. It had taken a lot of dedication and love.
Once again through his own foolishness it was very likely to come tumbling down around his ears.
How the hell could he keep this quiet?
Just then, his day took a further turn for the worse. In stalked Superintendent Guthrie from the Discipline and Complaints branch.
Henry suddenly felt weaker than alcohol-free lager.
For the second time that day, Henry came out from an interaction with a higher-ranking officer with his head in a spin. Again he had difficulty taking in what was told him. This time things were in his favour, but even so it did not feel like a victory. It simply added to his overall confusion.
Shane Mulcahy had been into the police station earlier and retracted his complaint of assault, saying that everything was his fault. He’d pulled a hidden knife on the detective and the officer had acted in reasonable self- defence. In other words, Shane admitted he deserved what he got — a knee in the bollocks.
And to add weight to the retraction, Superintendent Guthrie said he had checked the custody record and found it backed up Henry’s description of the fight in the cell corridor.
‘ What?’ Henry had said, totally perplexed. ‘You mean the custody record says..?’
‘ That you acted in self-defence, yes.’ The Superintendent winked at Henry. ‘I knew things would work out for you. They always do when it’s a flimsy allegation. So, all I need to do is tie the loose ends up and write the whole unpleasant incident off. And I hope you learn something from the experience.’
‘ I’m sure I shall.’
On leaving the room Henry made his way quickly to the custody office where he looked up the relevant custody record.
It was true.
Eric Taylor had written that he’d observed the tussle between him and Shane, and had entered it onto the custody record.
Except it wasn’t the original entry, as Henry well knew. Because he’d checked the custody record last week and been in despair that firstly he’d forgotten to make an entry himself, and secondly that Eric Taylor did not leave him any space to write something in later.
Henry knew that Taylor was a good custody officer. Very fair in his dealings with prisoners and police officers alike. So why had he changed the entry in Henry’s favour?
Not something Taylor would have done in a million years.
He replaced the custody record binder on the shelf and sauntered back up to the CID office, trying desperately to get a grip on what had happened. He found it impossible and very disturbing.
‘ We need to judge this just right,’ Morton was saying. His audience consisted of Gallagher, Tattersall and Siobhan Robson. ‘Henry’s a dangerous individual because, basically, he’s honest. He might bend the rules to get a conviction, but you can bet it’ll be watertight in the end and will survive even the most ruthless scrutiny. So, people, how do we proceed?’
Gallagher replied, ‘He might be honest, but he’s not stupid. He’ll know when the cards are stacked against him and I’m sure he’ll hold his hands up.’ He laughed.
‘ Siobhan?’ Morton raised his eyebrows to her.
‘ Go straight for him,’ she said in a brittle tone. ‘Lay it on the line. He’ll realise he hasn’t any choice and he’ll stick with us. He’s not stupid, as Gallie says.’ She nodded towards the DI. ‘He doesn’t want to lose his job and his wife.’
There was a knock on the door. ‘Come,’ said Morton. Superintendent Guthrie, Discipline and Complaints, poked his head through the door. He held up a finger. ‘Done and dusted,’ he said.
‘ Thanks, Will,’ Morton said. ‘See you later about it.’
Guthrie closed the door.
Morton clamped his fist tight triumphantly. ‘Right! This will be a difficult time, for us and him. His first reaction may be to go running to someone else and blurt everything out. If he does that, we need to be watertight. Are we?’
‘ I am,’ said Siobhan.
‘ Me too.’ Gallagher.
The laconic Tattersall merely nodded.
‘ Right. Let’s wheel him in, drop a few more bombshells on him, then see where we stand.’
Henry tapped without confidence on Tony Morton’s door. He had been summoned once more, probably, he guessed, to receive an update on the Siobhan affair. ‘Come,’ he heard Morton call out.
Henry pushed the door open, expecting to see only Morton. It knocked him sideways when he firstly saw Siobhan, then Gallagher, then Tattersall, sitting in there too. They were in a semi-circle facing Morton’s desk. At the open end of the semi-circle was an empty chair.
Henry had a quick look round for The Four Horses of the Apocalypse.
Overcoming an urge to run away and hide in a toilet, he entered the room. If he’d had a tail it would have been between his legs. His eyes avoided contact with Siobhan’s; his mouth was arid extra dry. Tattersall stood up
