I See You(74)

‘I thought it was odd,’ her statement read, ‘given how new the car looked, but it didn’t occur to me to be suspicious.’ Kathryn had leaned into the car to give directions – the driver said he was looking for the M20 – and described a man who seemed friendly and unthreatening.

‘He apologised for taking up my time,’ she said, ‘and thanked me for being so helpful.’

Kathryn had been going over the directions a second time (‘he said his memory was terrible’) when Gordon Tillman’s true intention had become clear.

‘He suddenly reached out and grabbed me. He took a huge handful of the grey wrap I was wearing, gripping it somewhere behind my right shoulder, and hauled me into the car. It happened so fast I don’t think I even managed to scream. He drove off, my feet still out of the car, and my face pushed into his lap. I could feel the steering wheel on the back of my head, and he used his free hand to push my head against his crotch.’

At some point the car had stopped for long enough for Tillman to reach across the victim and slam the passenger door shut, but he kept her head pressed into his groin; the car in a low gear he didn’t once change.

‘I tried to turn my head but he wouldn’t let me,’ she had told the Kent detective taking her statement. ‘My face was pressed against his penis and I felt it getting harder and harder. That’s when I knew he was going to rape me.’

A note from the attending officer told Kelly the victim had two children, the youngest just eighteen months old. She worked full time as a recruitment consultant and had been married for eleven years.

I fully support police proceedings and am willing to attend court, if required.

Of course she did. Why wouldn’t you?

Why didn’t Lexi?

‘I need some fresh air,’ she told Nick, who barely looked up from his desk. Kelly left MIT running down the stairs and making her way to the gated area at the rear of the station. She realised her fists were clenched into tight balls, and she made herself unfurl her fingers and take a deep breath.

Lexi picked up the phone just as Kelly thought it was going to go to voicemail.

‘Why did you tell Durham police you wouldn’t go to court?’

Kelly heard a sharp intake of breath.

‘Hold on.’

There was a muffled conversation; voices Kelly recognised as Lexi’s husband and one of the children. Fergus, she thought. A door closed. When Lexi spoke again she was quiet but firm.

‘How do you know that?’

‘Why did you tell them you wouldn’t support a prosecution, Lexi?’

‘Because I wouldn’t.’

‘I don’t understand. How could you walk away from the biggest thing that’s ever happened to you?’

‘It isn’t the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me, that’s how! My husband is the biggest thing that’s ever happened to me. Fergus and Alfie are the biggest things. You, Mum, Dad … all more important than what happened in Durham a lifetime ago.’

‘What about other people? How would you feel if he raped someone else, because he hadn’t been found guilty of attacking you?’

Lexi sighed. ‘I do feel guilty about that, I really do. But it’s self-preservation, Kelly. I would have cracked up, otherwise, and then where would I have been? What use would I have been to the boys?’

‘I don’t understand why you’ve made it so black and white. It might be years before he’s caught – if ever – you might feel completely differently then.’

‘But don’t you see, that’s exactly what made it so hard?’ Kelly heard the break in her sister’s voice, and felt a lump in her own throat. ‘I never knew when it might happen. I didn’t know if I’d suddenly get a call to say they had someone in custody, or that someone had come forward with information. What if it was the day before a job interview? What if it was one of the kids’ birthdays? I’m happy, Kelly. I’ve got a good life, with a family I love, and what happened in Durham was a million years ago. I don’t want it all dragged up again.’

Kelly said nothing.

‘You must be able to understand that. You must see why I did it?’

‘No. I don’t understand it at all. And I don’t understand why you never told me that’s what you did.’

‘Because of this, Kelly! Because you’ve never let me move on, even when I wanted to. You’re a police officer; you spend your life digging up the past, looking for answers. But sometimes there aren’t any answers. Sometimes shit just happens, and you have to deal with it in the best way you can.’

‘Denial isn’t the best way to—’

‘You live your life, Kelly. Let me live mine.’

The line went dead, and Kelly stood in the freezing yard, half-hidden in the shadows.





24


‘Are you nervous, love?’

‘A bit.’

It’s one o’clock on Saturday and we’re in the kitchen, clearing away the remains of the soup I made. I wanted Katie to have something hot inside her before her rehearsal, but she picked at a bread roll and barely touched her soup.

‘I’m nervous too,’ I tell her. I smile, intending to show solidarity, but Katie’s face falls.

‘Don’t you think I can do it?’