‘OK.’ He took out his phone and started pressing keys. ‘I’ll go for four. I can always top up if needed. I got this for you.’ He offered her a coffee. ‘Flat white. I’ve got sugar or sweetener if you want it.’
‘No, it’s fine. And thanks. Never turn down a coffee, that’s my motto.’
He’d gone inside and bought from a Costa Express. She was with him on that one.
‘Tried McDonald’s coffee?’
‘Yeah. If I’m travelling, it’s the one I go for every time.’
‘You’re a man after my own heart, as the vicar said to the transplant surgeon.’
Hawley had his coffee cup almost to his lips. He paused and looked at her, his inquisitiveness turning to approval with a little nod. ‘That’s actually not bad, Inspector,’ he said, amused.
Anna frowned, bemused by the fact that she’d dragged up the joke and wondering why she had. ‘It’s my one joke, I don’t know any others.’
‘Must be nice when you find an opportunity to use it.’
‘Very gratifying. And it’s Anna, by the way.’
They were back on the M5 within minutes and heading north.
Hawley sipped his coffee. Eventually, he said, ‘Do you mind me asking why it is we’re doing this?’
‘Your idea that the victims on your list all had significant medical histories intrigues me. I need to know how it might have put them at risk.’
Hawley’s response was a sour smile. ‘Why, so you can implicate me further?’
‘You’re not under suspicion, Ben. We’re undertaking a review. It’s not unusual to revisit the evidence in this way. Believe it or not, you’re my expert witness. I thought that if we got a better handle on what exactly happened that day, it might help.’
Hawley turned to look out of the window, reluctant acceptance in his face.
Everything she’d told him was true. That she was hoping for one little nugget of insight or trigger to crank the case forward. This was what investigating was all about. Not car chases or fights, though she’d had a few of those in her time. Mostly it was about patience. Re-examining the obvious to spot anything missed. If there was a link between the abducted children and their medical histories, a link that made them vulnerable, what could it be? More importantly, how would that information be obtained? If Edinburgh was to be believed, details had been shared between a ring of perpetrators. If on the other hand, as Anna believed, this was the work of one man, then how on earth had he gained access? She needed details, something small but vital that would plug the gap in her understanding.
Taking the road less travelled for no other reason than the wind blows you in that direction.
She’d learned to trust the wind.
‘How did you end up working in Cheltenham?’ Anna asked.
‘What can I tell you that you don’t know already?’
‘Humour me.’
Hawley shrugged. ‘I was twenty-three. Had just finished my first-year foundation house jobs and was wondering what direction to take. It was my second six months in A and E and I was toying with a career in emergency medicine. I knew I’d need to move to a bigger unit, get on to a run-through training programme. I mean it was busy enough, don’t get me wrong, but I was still making my mind up then. A district general hospital like Cheltenham was a great introduction. The usual sort of set-up. Walking wounded on one side, the serious stuff on the other. I was getting good at dealing with most things that came through the door and the nurses knew I was good with kids. I’m one of four. I had two sisters younger than me so I wasn’t fazed if they cried or whined or screamed.’
‘And the day Rosie came in and you were on duty. Were you asked to see her, or was it a random act?’
‘I picked up the file… No, I tell a lie, one of the staff nurses gave me the file. The other junior was a locum. Older chap, not brilliant with kids. The consultant was dealing with someone having a fit and the staff grade was sorting out a fracture. So, the staff nurse found me. There was a room for eye casualties. Anything serious and we’d call the ophthalmologists, but they encouraged us to have a look and try and deal with the simple stuff. We had a dark room with a slit lamp—’
‘Slit lamp?’
‘It’s a kind of microscope used for examination. You know, you put your chin on a rest and there’s eye pieces for the observer. You’ve seen one in optometrist shops and every advert for glasses that’s ever been.’
Anna pictured it and nodded.
‘Anyway, Rosie came in with her mum, clutching her eye. She wouldn’t let me examine her easily. She was photophobic from the scratches. Protocol is that you apply anaesthetic for a better look. Somehow, I managed to get her to let me put some drops in. Once they kick in, once the pain has gone, patients will open their eyes and it’s much easier.’ Hawley sat back, eyes front, remembering. ‘She was great. Chatty, cooperative. Some people hate small kids, and Rosie was Down’s, so her mental age was a bit less than eleven. In fact, I think it’s easier when they’re younger. They’re less cynical and self-aware.
‘I examined her on the slit lamp. The anaesthetic has a dye. It shows up scratches on the cornea. She had scratches on the upper half but no foreign body. In those circumstances, the thing to do is to look under the upper lid. Not easy in Down’s because of their lid shape, but Rosie was a trooper. She sat on her mum’s knee, I popped her lid over and there it was, the foreign body. I wiped it away, repositioned the lid and it was done.’
‘And you’d never seen Rosie before?’
‘No.’ He looked across at her. ‘And I never saw her again.’
‘And afterwards?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You said that it affected you?’
‘You know all about the questioning. They wanted to know where I was on the day Rosie was abducted. I’d been on nights. I was in my room at the doctor’s mess alone, asleep. They didn’t like that. No witnesses for sleep. Then the press got hold of it.’ Hawley’s smile was razor-thin and bitter. ‘In fact, it wasn’t so much the press as your lot. I was taken from a clinic. The officers who came for me made no bones about making sure everyone knew what it was about. That sort of mud sticks. They released me but I was branded. You’d think intelligent people like nurses and doctors and hospital administrators would see beyond the dirt.’ Hawley shook his head. ‘The next day, someone spray-painted ‘paedo’ on my car. Day after that the local papers printed a story about a health professional taken in for questioning. It spread like wildfire. I took the decision to leave the department.’ He turned away, looked out of his window at the traffic. ‘I don’t see children anymore. I make sure the departments I go into know that.’
‘Was that some sort of prerequisite? A requirement of you continuing to practise?’
‘No,’ Hawley said, still with his face turned away. ‘There were no charges. I wasn’t reported to the GMC. Nothing like that. It’s self-imposed. Punishment, if you like.’
‘Punishment?’ Anna tilted her head. It was an odd word to use.
‘Yes. Because for some bloody weird reason, your lot has managed to make me feel guilty for what happened. I… I don’t trust kids anymore.’
His words were spoken quietly, dejectedly. Anna felt like she ought to say something but failed to find any words that would fit.
They sat in silence for a while until Anna turned the radio back on. After a long contemplative beat, Hawley continued. ‘They never found out who spoke to the press. And they stopped short of actually naming me. But there was enough there to make life intolerable. The headline was something like, “Accused doctor in missing schoolgirl case asked to leave department.” None of it was true but the police made no attempt to clear my name. They simply made it obvious that I was a person of interest. And clearly I still am.’
‘You don’t like us much, do you?’
‘No.’
‘We’re not all like—’
‘Sergeant Woakes?’
‘I was going to say like the people who interviewed you at that time.’