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“I’m the bearer of bad news,” he said, preparing to spoil their evening. He wished it was a date; just him and a nice guy getting to know one another over a couple of drinks.
11
Predator
Monday 7pm
“I can’t tell you how we found this out, but we have reason to believe the man carrying out the assaults on your women students is still here. We think he assaulted a young woman this week.”
Tom’s face fell.
“But I thought everyone had been arrested?”
“Not the perpetrator, no. Look, I don’t want to go all police-speak on you. I’ll tell you what I know and trust you to keep it to yourself,” Charlie said.
“Sure. But can I warn the students? Because I don’t want any more of them hurt.”
Charlie felt something inside himself melt with relief. He hadn’t realised how much he had been afraid Tom would be like the others: wanting the whole mess swept under the carpet, regardless of the cost. Their discussion about Kaylan and Rico might have ended with Tom stepping up, but it had started badly.
“Damn right, you can warn the students. And we should discuss extra security, lighting, that kind of thing. But for now, I just wanted you to know that it’s not over.” Charlie paused. How much of the background manoeuvrings in Clwyd Police did he want to share? Enough to make Tom realise that nothing was straightforward.
“There has been a school of thought locally,” he began, “about whether flashing, or even masturbating in public is a sexual assault.”
“Of course it bloody is. And anyway, isn’t it the beginning of something worse?” Tom was angry.
“I agree with you, and even if I didn’t, the law is clear—it’s an assault. Those women were made to watch something they didn’t want to see, and they watched because they were threatened with something worse. You’re right that flashers do escalate. We should have taken this much more seriously from day one.” Charlie threw up his hands. “It’s too late for that. We have to catch him before he does it again.” Tom nodded vigorously.
“You know what?” Tom said, pulling his coat from the back of the bench. “Jess from the Student Union has a list. I went to see her today after I’d spoken to you, and she showed me. Most of the attacks happened after dark, on the college campus. I’m going to take a walk round, just in case.”
Charlie put his hand on Tom’s arm. “Hang on, don’t you have security?”
“One Campus Services Officer at night, and he only goes outside if he hears an alarm. We were told it wasn’t real, remember.” Tom’s face hardened. “And my predecessors were still dithering about whether the cost of extra lighting and CCTV was worth it. We need a police presence.”
“Tell me about it,” muttered Charlie. “If you’re going, I’m coming with you.” Because Tom was a big guy, but the flasher carried a knife and wasn’t afraid to use it.
After the noise and life in the pub, the streets outside were quiet. Charlie was glad of his hi-vis jacket, pulling it more tightly around himself to keep out the chill. He envied Tom his wool pea coat, and envied him still more when he produced a knitted scarf from his pocket. It hadn’t seemed particularly cold earlier in the day, but now the sun had gone the temperature had dropped. Charlie was tired, and he knew that made him feel colder. He shivered.
“You OK?” Tom asked.
“It’s been a long day,” Charlie said, feeling every moment of the long day in his bones.
The front of the art college was floodlit, casting dark shadows around the walls and in front of the now closed doors.
“None of the attacks happened in the courtyard,” Tom said. “It’s locked quite early, though a few of the studios and workshops are open, and of course the library is open late — but that’s got its own outside door. Staff have keys, so they can get in and out of the main building if they need to.”
Charlie shivered again. He didn’t like the idea of being alone in the college. He knew, rationally, that there were a few hundred students nearby, using the library or in the halls of residence, but it seemed spooky and deserted. The paths were all lit by bollards, giving just enough light for them to see the path, but nothing beyond it. A few lampposts showed the gateway to the road and the path to the library, which took up a corner of the main building, with its own outside entrance.
“No one’s sketching piles of leaves at night, then,” he asked.
Tom laughed. “We do make the poor buggers suffer. But everything rests on drawing. Drawing is the foundation. Even Vitruvious agrees with that. It’s one of the only things we agree about.”
“Is he really called Inigo Vitruvious?”
Tom laughed again. “I shouldn’t think so for a minute. On the other hand, he lives in a big house in a nice village, so I guess he comes from money. Rich people can call their kids anything. He’s been here almost as long as I have and I’ve never heard him called anything else.”
“But you don’t actually know?”
“Art colleges are peculiar places. Everyone wants to be successful, and for the college itself to be successful because that reflects on them, but no one wants success for their colleagues. So V might well have chosen a bizarre name for himself to get more attention. Or maybe it’s his actual name. I suppose I could find out, now I’m allegedly in charge.” Tom shrugged. “There is more jealousy in a place like this than in any group of teenage girls.”
