Chapter 55
The lab result came back on Monday morning.
Robyn rang to tell Sarah the good news: the buccal swab taken from Harley had provided a partial match to the hair root underneath Christy’s fingernail as well as to a bloodstain on her top.
Robyn was now as sure as she needed to be to take this to the chief of police, and Sarah could make her application to the CCRC.
But they both needed just one more thing.
Sarah went downstairs to find Will in the kitchen. Her heart was in knots, the energy inside her sitting tight as a ball of string.
‘Will,’ she breathed. ‘Will. It’s him. It’s Mitchell. It’s him.’
‘They’ve arrested him?’ Will dropped his piece of toast and jam onto his plate.
‘No. Not yet. No,’ Sarah said. ‘But we’ve got the evidence we need to prove that he did it. He killed Christy. They took the swab from Harley and built a profile, then they uploaded it to the database and it was a partial match to the hair follicle and … and I need to get to Brixton.’
‘Jesus, Sarah,’ Will said, alarmed. ‘I’m in Snaresbrook this morning. What about Ben?’
‘It’s fine,’ Sarah said, kissing the top of his head. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll drop him off at school on my way.’
Will thought for a minute. ‘No. Go,’ he said. ‘Go now. Do what you need to do.’ He grinned at Sarah, who was still hovering in the doorway. ‘Go!’
‘Thank you!’ Sarah ran into the living room, where she hugged Ben and kissed him on the cheek. Ben gave her a shove, because that’s what Ben did when people were too excited around him, and Sarah laughed and ran for the door.
She found Phillipa in the hostel. She was in the kitchen with another resident and a warden. Everyone turned to look at Sarah as she came in.
‘Guess what?’ Sarah grinned at her.
‘No!’ Phillipa said, stretching out the word and sliding back her chair. ‘They haven’t …?’ She stopped short, glanced at the curious faces next to her, then stood up and ushered Sarah towards the door. ‘Have they arrested him?’ she whispered.
‘No,’ Sarah said. ‘They’re still looking for him. But …’ She took a long, deep breath.
Phillipa was mad at first. She was mad that Sarah had talked to Robyn about her, and she was mad that Sarah and Robyn had gone together to meet Harley behind her back and had told him the truth about his father, and she was upset and angry about the possibility that Harley might want to meet him.
Sarah understood. She understood it all.
She walked, almost ran, trying to keep up with Phillipa as she marched staunchly through the backstreets north of Acre Lane.
They passed through a housing estate, past a basketball court and some tennis courts and into a small playground, where Phillipa stopped on the grass by the swings, seemingly unsure where to go and what to do next.
She began pacing back and forth for a moment, and then she stopped shouting at Sarah and fell quiet.
She walked over to the swings and sat down on one of them, and Sarah sat on the swing beside her and Phillipa listened.
She listened to the whole story and when Sarah told her that Harley had wanted to help put his father behind bars, and that he also wanted to meet her, she became tearful and said, ‘He’s a good lad. What a good lad.’
‘He’s your son,’ Sarah said. ‘He takes after you.’
Not him. The words hung silently in the air between them, and Sarah left them there.
‘So,’ Phillipa said, after a while. ‘How do I go about it?’
Sarah felt her heart leap. ‘You mean …?’
‘How do I make this statement? Do I have to walk into a police station, or what? Because I don’t want no one seeing me and thinking I’m some kind of snitch.’
‘No,’ Sarah said quickly. ‘No. Nothing like that. You don’t need to do anything. Robyn will come to you. She’ll meet you wherever you want. Just tell me where.’
Phillipa nodded, then said, ‘Does he really want to see me?’
Sarah nodded. ‘Yes. He really does.’
Phillipa looked doubtful. ‘Did someone tell him he had to?’
‘No,’ Sarah insisted. ‘No, of course not. It was all him. I could tell. He wants to get to know you.’
‘They kept his name,’ she said. She pushed the swing back and let it fall forward. ‘Harley. I gave him that name.’
‘I like it,’ Sarah said.
‘I hope his surname ain’t Davidson,’ Phillipa said with a small smile.
‘No.’ Sarah smiled back. ‘It’s Truscott.’
‘Truscott,’ Phillipa repeated. ‘Harley Truscott.’ She pursed her lips and nodded, as if she approved. Then she glanced at Sarah. ‘What does he look like?’
‘He’s gorgeous,’ Sarah said. ‘He’s the spit of you.’
‘Really?’
Sarah nodded. ‘Tall. Thin. Dark hair, like yours. Big brown eyes. A little tash.’ Sarah drew a line underneath her nose.
‘No!’ Phillipa said, with a grin. ‘Not a tash.’
‘It’s just a little one,’ Sarah said. ‘And he has a girlfriend,’ she added.
‘Aww. What’s she like?’
‘Lovely. They’re very sweet together. I think they’re in love.’
‘Aww,’ Phillipa said again.
‘So, you want to meet him?’
She nodded. ‘Yeah. I do.’
‘Good. I think he’ll like you.’
‘You think?’ Phillipa looked pleased.
‘Of course.’
They swung in silence for a few minutes. Then Phillipa looked round at Sarah and said, ‘Go on, then. Set it up.’
‘The meeting?’ Sarah asked. ‘With Harley?’
Phillipa inhaled deeply, then said, ‘And with Robyn. I get it. Continuity, I think you people call it.’
Sarah smiled. ‘More like explanatory evidence. How Harley came to be Mitch’s son. But justice for you, too, if you want it.’
Phillipa thought about this. ‘Yeah,’ she said finally. ‘I think I do.’