‘It was a mistake,’ he said, rubbing furiously at his forehead. Kim was sure Alison would tell her that he was trying to rub the memory away.
She offered her own non-verbal communication. She folded her arms and said nothing.
‘I was celebrating the end of term. I was drunk, and she looked much older.’
‘Which defence would you like to use, Mr Butler?’
‘A bit of both, but I swear I didn’t know her true age. She told me she was seventeen.’
‘And she was?’
‘It happened a week before her fourteenth birthday.’
‘So she was thirteen?’ Kim asked to be clear.
Bryant put his hands in his pockets as Butler winced at her words.
‘She looked much older; she was wearing make-up, mature clothes. She looked old enough.’
‘For sex?’
He nodded. ‘I swear I didn’t know. It was totally consensual. I was roaring drunk. I can’t even remember.’
‘Mr Butler, which defence would you like to stick to: that it was consensual, you were roaring drunk or you can’t remember? Both the second and third would prevent an accurate recollection of the first.’
When his brain caught up with her words, the colour flooded his face.
‘The accusation came from her parents, not the girl.’
‘I would imagine that it was the girl that told her parents. So it’s the same thing really. Ultimately, she was thirteen years old. Were you charged with statutory rape?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you pleaded no contest.’
He nodded. ‘Maybe I should have tried to fight it, pleaded not guilty, but I was advised to offer no plea and accept the punishment.’
‘Which was?’
‘A three-year sentence and forty hours of community service. It wasn’t fully explained to me that I’d likely spend more than a year in prison.’
‘Sue your lawyer,’ Kim said without sympathy. His right to understanding the rules had disappeared when he’d slept with a minor.
‘And you were questioned in connection with the disappearance of Melody Jones in ’96?’
‘Briefly,’ he said, as though it was a minor event that he’d forgotten. ‘But I wasn’t even in the area when that girl disappeared.’
That girl.
‘And I had a cast-iron alibi that—’
‘Was provided by people that work for you,’ she clarified.
‘I wasn’t there, and I’m not a pervert,’ he protested strongly.
Kim neither agreed nor disagreed. The facts were the facts.
‘You were at university when you were convicted of rape?’ Kim asked, having a sudden thought.
He nodded.
‘And you say you sought advice from those around you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Was one of those people Steven Harte?’
‘Most likely. He was an intelligent, trustworthy guy, so yes, there’s a good chance I asked him for his advice.’
So Steven Harte had known the man was a sex offender and had chosen to do business with him anyway.
Fifty-Five
Stacey had wanted to be completely sure before she said anything to her colleagues and, most importantly, the boss. After reviewing all of the footage of Grace Lennard from the day of the abduction, she was pretty sure she was right.
‘Alison, Penn, come take a quick look at this,’ she said.
Penn wheeled his chair around the desks, and Alison followed behind.
Stacey had taken all the clippings of Grace from that day and formed a slow-motion montage.
Once they were in position she played it.
Grace in the huddle with the others.
Grace moving back to the vegetable garden.
Grace entering the premises first thing wearing a yellow cardigan.
Grace in the kitchen having a biscuit and a glass of juice without the cardigan.
‘Stace, what are we supposed to be looking—?’
‘Just watch,’ she said, noting that Alison was already starting to peer in more closely.
Grace in the hallway taking something from her unicorn backpack.
Grace heading outside just behind a couple of other girls.
‘Play that bit again,’ Alison said.
It was the bit where Stacey’s finding was most obvious. She rewound and froze the frame.
‘Ah,’ Alison said.
Penn shook his head. ‘I still don’t— Oh, yeah. Is that what I think it is?’
Yes, that was exactly what he thought it was.
Grace Lennard had a whopping great bruise all down the left side of her arm.
Fifty-Six
‘You know when you’re just not convinced,’ Bryant said, heading towards the home of Claire Lennard.
She had listened silently as Stacey had called through her findings once they’d finished speaking with Jenson Butler. Her immediate reaction had come from her stomach, which had reacted against the thought that Claire Lennard had in any way harmed her child.
‘For once we agree on something,’ she said as Bryant entered the area of Kate’s Hill.
‘Everything in that house screamed love and warmth. Did you see the little clay model figures?’
Kim nodded. She had noticed them too. It looked like a family of three modelled from craft clay that had clearly been done by a child, but it took pride of place between two family photos on the fireplace. It was always the small things.
‘Got no choice but to have the conversation though,’ she said, even though her stomach was rebelling against it.
The unease did not lessen as Bryant parked behind Bernadette’s Ford Fiesta, which appeared to be in the same spot it had been on Monday.
The liaison officer answered the door with a smile.
‘You not been home yet?’ Kim asked, stepping inside.
‘Nope. World War Three is raging back at home, and I am remaining Switzerland. I’m needed more here right now.’
‘How is she?’
Bernadette sighed. ‘As you’d expect, not great. She won’t eat, she won’t sleep, she won’t wash, she paces all the time. The adrenaline is surging around her body and she doesn’t know what to do with it. I think she feels she’s letting Grace down if she allows any kind of normality to settle. The fact that she’s got nothing to do to help find Grace is making things worse.’
Great. Kim was pretty sure that the questions they had for Claire were not going to brighten her day.
‘Is that the inspector?’ Claire asked, appearing in the doorway from the lounge.
Kim hid her surprise at the appearance of the woman. There was no judgement in the fact she hadn’t changed clothes since Monday or that her hair was unwashed and uncombed. Her face was pale, emphasising the red-rimmed eyes that had developed hairline creases on the lower lids.
‘We haven’t found her yet,’ Kim said, answering the only question in her eyes. ‘But we are following up leads.’
Fatigue appeared to be slowing her reactions, but it still only took a few seconds for her expression to change to suspicion.
There was no point lying to her. Claire knew that if it was a simple update she was after, she could have called Bernadette. That was her job.