Page 139 of Maybe Tomorrow

‘I thought that too. So I checked again. Then I double-checked. I even rechecked the double-check twice. Unless there is a perfectly plausible reason his DNA is on Alice Patterson’s underpants, he’s your killer.’

Freya wanted to cry. ‘This can’t be… I… I can’t believe…’ Her voice shook with emotion. ‘How has he ended up on the DNA Database all these years later?’

‘He was pulled over by police on Monday night for speeding through a lowering level crossing. He was over the drink-drive limit.’

‘Jesus. What do I do, Caspian?’ she asked, a tear rolling down her cheek.

‘There’s only one thing you can do.’

Caspian left soon afterwards, leaving Freya in a state of shock. Wherever she thought this case would go, she was not expecting this. Not in her wildest nightmares. She ignored her phone ringing as she thought about what to do next. She needed to speak to someone.

With a shaking hand, she picked up her phone, dialled a number from memory and waited for it to be connected.

‘Inglethorpe, Bryce and Ripley. Good morning.’

Freya took a breath. ‘Good morning. Can you put me through to Jennifer Ripley, please? It’s DI Freya Sloan. I’m afraid it is quite urgent.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Ripley is in Leeds today. There’s an event to?—’

‘Of course,’ Freya interrupted. She ended the call.

Today was a big day for Jennifer Ripley. It was the anniversary of her charity Wrongly Accused and there was a huge celebration at a hotel in Leeds where everyone the charity had helped was gathering to honour Jennifer and her team. It was an event she planned to attend; an event she knew she was going to be late for.

She grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and stormed out of her office into the open-plan CID suite.

‘Roger, get a car,’ she instructed. ‘Vicky, call West Yorkshire Police, tell them we’ll be carrying out an arrest in their area and we’d like their assistance. Scott, Rory, with me.’

She headed out of the room, struggling to put her arm through the sleeves of her coat. Today should have been a good day but it was going to be one of the worst days ever.

ChapterSixty-Four

The Queens Hotel in Leeds stood in the city centre, a hair’s breadth away from the central train station, and had been a prime location for visiting dignitaries since the 1930s. Its Art Deco design was iconic. Makeovers, over the years, had been in keeping with modern design, but the history of the building remained.

Today, it was host to almost one hundred and fifty people who were part of the Wrongly Accused anniversary event.

A grand hall had been set out with tables and chairs to host a three-course meal for those the charity had freed from prison following a wrongful conviction, their families, and the solicitors, barristers, police and members of the media who had helped along the journey.

Before the meal began at one o’clock, there were to be several speeches made, the main one at the end by Jennifer Ripley, who started it all. This event had been nine months in the making and, so far, everything was going swimmingly.

All of the people Jennifer and her team had helped were important to her, but there was one man who had inspired this whole journey, and she hoped Anthony Winstanley, who was now living an almost monastic life with his mother and stepfather in an isolated cottage on the moors, would attend. He hadn’t RSVPed until yesterday afternoon. When she saw him enter the hotel, looking very dapper in a suit and tie, she couldn’t help but smile.

She hadn’t seen him for a while but kept in touch with Pauline and Leo to check how he was doing. He had good days and bad. He had stopped seeing a therapist and found trekking the moors with Leo better for him than sitting talking to a stranger. The transformation in his appearance was difficult to digest. He was only forty but looked much older. His thick mound of hair was now grey. He was registered blind and walked with a very graceful golden Labrador called Woody by his side. As much as Jennifer was thrilled to see him, she was saddened by what the justice system had done to him. She’d secured him a seven-figure compensation pay-out, which meant he could live comfortably, but all it meant was he didn’t need to worry about bills and food. The mental torment continued and would do so for the rest of his life.

For the final speech of the proceedings, Jennifer took her place on the stage behind the microphone. She looked out at all the faces she knew so well. None of them would be there without her. She found that so incredibly humbling. She looked down at the first table. There was Anthony with his dog, and Pauline and Leo, who looked so good together. Chris Tyler, and an empty seat next to him. She knew Freya would arrive eventually. Cedric Inglethorpe, now retired and looking good for a man in his nineties, with his elegant yet frail wife, Janice. Jasper Bryce had been dead for some years, now, but his widow, Celia, and eldest daughter, Francesca, also a solicitor, represented him. Finally, Jennifer’s husband, Home Secretary Malcolm Ripley. A General Election was two years away. John Major’s popularity, such as it was, was on the wane, and senior figures within the Conservative Party were tipping Malcolm to take his place as leader, and, hopefully, Prime Minister. When Jennifer looked down at her husband, she could not be prouder of what he’d achieved, of what they’d both achieved together.

She cleared her throat. ‘Good afternoon, everyone. Before I begin, I’d like to reassure you all that, although I look like I’m about to explode, I am in fact two months away from my due date,’ she said, cradling her bump. ‘This is what carrying twins at seven months looks like, and before anyone asks, I shallnotbe calling them Inglethorpe and Bryce.’ There was a ripple of laughter from around the room and also a round of applause.

‘I cannot tell you how much it warms my heart to see so many of you here today. Looking at you all, I see so much grit and determination, strength and hope, but I also see happiness on every single face. What happened to each and every one of you in this room should never have happened. I’d like to think it will never happen again to anyone else, but I know that’s wishful thinking on my part. However, every one of you is proof that nobody should ever give up hope when they find themselves in an impossible situation. Even during the darkest days, there is always a glimmer of hope. Wrongly Accused provides that light. And we will never stop.’

More applause. Jennifer looked back down at her table. Pauline was wiping away a tear. Leo was whispering something to a smiling Anthony. Malcolm was surveying the room. Chris was looking up at her, waiting for her to continue.

‘Obviously, I could stand here all afternoon and thank each and every one of you individually, but I can smell the food from here and I’m so hungry.’ She held her stomach again and there was another ripple of laughter. ‘However, from the bottom of my heart, I thank you all for putting your faith and belief in me and my incredible team at Wrongly Accused.’

The applause seemed to last a long time.

‘There are some people who would never speak to me again if I didn’t thank them. Mr Inglethorpe. I’m sorry, but no matter how many times you tell me to, I can’t call you Cedric. You’ll always be Mr Inglethorpe to me. I remember when you and Mr Bryce first interviewed me. You asked me where I’d like to be in five years’ time. I said, “I want to be sat where you’re sat.” You asked me if I wanted your job. I said, “No, your seat looks more comfortable than mine.” I was so nervous and didn’t mean to sound flippant. I don’t know where that remark came from, but it broke the ice and all three of us got on famously well from that day onwards. I’m sad Mr Bryce cannot be with us today. I think about him regularly, but he and Mr Inglethorpe were right behind me when I said I wanted to set up Wrongly Accused. They are as much a part of this as I am. I’m proud to welcome Celia Bryce, Mr Bryce’s wife, and his daughter Francesca, here today, and I’m even happier to announce that Francesca will be joining Wrongly Accused in the new year.’

Another round of applause. Jennifer beckoned for Francesca to stand up. She reluctantly did, offering an embarrassed bow to the room.