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‘Maybe the price of not having to whip himself across the face again was for Reaney to take dirty pictures? What if he was forced to take them, by the ringmaster?’
‘Well, it’d explain Carrie’s insistence she didn’t know who the photographer was,’ said Robin. ‘I doubt many people would welcome Jordan Reaney having a grudge against them or their families.’
‘Too true.’
Having eaten the last of the Yorkie bar, Strike picked up his pen again and began making a ‘to do’ list.
‘OK, so we need to try and trace Joe and Rose. I’d also like to clarify whether Wace was absent from the farm that morning, because Carrie tied herself up in knots there, didn’t she?’
‘How’re we supposed to find that out, after all this time?’
‘Christ knows, but can’t hurt to try,’ said Strike.
He started unenthusiastically on his apple. Robin had just finished her sandwich when her phone rang.
‘Hi,’ said Murphy. ‘How’s it going in Thornbury?’
Strike, who thought he recognised Murphy’s voice, feigned interest in the passenger side of the road.
‘Good,’ said Robin. ‘Well – interesting.’
‘If you fancy coming over this evening, I’ve got something you’ll also find interesting.’
‘What?’ asked Robin.
‘The interview tapes of the people who’re accusing you of child abuse.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘Needless to say, I shouldn’t have them. Called in a favour.’
The idea of seeing anyone from Chapman Farm again, even on film, gave Robin goosebumps for the second time in ten minutes.
‘OK,’ she said, checking her watch, ‘what time will you be home?’
‘Eightish, probably. I’ve got a lot to catch up on here.’
‘OK, great, I’ll see you then.’
She hung up. Strike, who gathered from what he’d just overheard that Robin and Murphy’s relationship had not, in fact, fallen apart during the separation, said,
‘Everything OK?’
‘Fine,’ said Robin. ‘Ryan’s managed to get hold of the interview tapes of the people saying I abused Jacob.’
‘Ah,’ said Strike. ‘Right.’
He not only resented Murphy being able to access information he couldn’t, he resented Murphy being in a position to inform or assist Robin, when he couldn’t.
Robin was now staring ahead through the windscreen. Her pulse was racing: the child abuse accusation, which she’d tried to relegate to the back of her mind, now seemed to loom over her, blocking out the August sun.
Strike, who suspected what was going through Robin’s mind, said,
‘They’re not going to go through with it. They’ll have to drop it.’
And how can you be so sure? thought Robin, but, well aware that her predicament wasn’t Strike’s fault, she merely said,
‘Well, I hope so.’
