telly,’ said Tina.
Karen Fitzgerald met them in reception and led them through to the viewing suite. ‘As soon as you feel ready,’ she said to Tina, ‘I’ll tell DC Winter to bring the men into the room.’
Tina nodded, had a good look round to get the feel of the place. Then she turned to the window. ‘I’m ready,’ she said.
Fitzgerald opened the door and signalled to Winter, and shortly afterwards the men trooped into the room on the other side of the glass. Penny moved a step nearer to her daughter. Tina slipped her hand into Ruth’s.
‘Do you recognise anyone?’ asked Fitzgerald.
‘I don’t know,’ said Tina. ‘They all look alike.’
It was true that the men were all of similar height, build and age, but to Fitzgerald’s eyes they were all very different and Cotter might as well have had horns and a forked tail.
‘Look carefully. Take your time.’
‘I’m not sure. I mostly saw him from behind, in the car.’
Fitzgerald leaned out of the door. ‘Winter? Get them to turn round.’
Moments later, the men in the other room all turned their backs to the glass.
‘Better?’ asked Fitzgerald.
Ruth felt Tina tense up beside her. ‘It’s okay, Tina, love. Take your time. There’s no pressure.’ She shot a warning glance at Fitzgerald, who rolled her eyes.
‘Do any of them have bruises?’ Tina asked Ruth.
‘Bruises? I don’t know, love.’
‘What sort of bruises?’ asked Fitzgerald.
‘On their arms,’ said Tina. ‘I hit him. On this side.’ She looked up at Ruth as she put her hand on the upper part of her left arm to indicate the area where she had beaten the driver of the car. ‘I hit him here, really, really hard.’
Ruth turned to Fitzgerald. ‘Tina hit the driver of the car repeatedly on his head and his arm to get him to stop the car. The chances are the man concerned will be bruised.’
‘Winter?’ Fitzgerald was hanging out of the door again. ‘Get each of them to show us the top of their left arm.’
There was clearly a bit of grumbling going on in the next room when Winter conveyed the next instruction, but they did as requested. To Karen Fitzgerald’s disappointment, none of the men had any visible marks or bruises. She was pacing the floor, desperate for a positive identification of George Cotter.
Tina turned to Ruth. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just don’t know.’
‘Have another look, for heaven’s sake,’ said Fitzgerald, frustration making her short on patience.
‘Easy, Karen,’ Ruth counselled.
Penny shot Fitzgerald a look and reached a hand out to her daughter, but the little girl was leaning in to Ruth Crinson. She let her arm drop back to her side and pursed her lips.
Fitzgerald took a deep breath, counted to ten. ‘I’m sorry, folks. It’s just that I’m so sure it’s him.’
‘It probably is,’ said Ruth. ‘But Tina was terrified when she was in the car with him. It was dark and she saw him mostly from behind.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ Tina told Fitzgerald.
Karen Fitzgerald breathed out. ‘That’s okay, love, it can’t be helped. We’ll just have to get him another way.’
***
When they got back to the house, the postman had been. Ruth picked the mail off the doormat. ‘I’ll sort through these and give you what’s yours,’ she told Penny and Derek. They didn’t argue. Neither of them was in any hurry for a repeat of the previous day’s experience.
Ten minutes later they were seated in the lounge with cups of tea. Ruth had kept four envelopes and passed the rest over. ‘I’ll open these ones,’ she told them. ‘My apologies if they’re normal mail. If they are, I’ll pass them straight to you. If they aren’t, I’ll get them to the station.’
‘Do you really think there might be more hate mail?’ asked Derek.
‘You never know how people will react to things,’ Ruth told him. ‘Some people can be very judgemental. They don’t think straight when there’s a kiddie
Karen Fitzgerald met them in reception and led them through to the viewing suite. ‘As soon as you feel ready,’ she said to Tina, ‘I’ll tell DC Winter to bring the men into the room.’
Tina nodded, had a good look round to get the feel of the place. Then she turned to the window. ‘I’m ready,’ she said.
Fitzgerald opened the door and signalled to Winter, and shortly afterwards the men trooped into the room on the other side of the glass. Penny moved a step nearer to her daughter. Tina slipped her hand into Ruth’s.
‘Do you recognise anyone?’ asked Fitzgerald.
‘I don’t know,’ said Tina. ‘They all look alike.’
It was true that the men were all of similar height, build and age, but to Fitzgerald’s eyes they were all very different and Cotter might as well have had horns and a forked tail.
‘Look carefully. Take your time.’
‘I’m not sure. I mostly saw him from behind, in the car.’
Fitzgerald leaned out of the door. ‘Winter? Get them to turn round.’
Moments later, the men in the other room all turned their backs to the glass.
‘Better?’ asked Fitzgerald.
Ruth felt Tina tense up beside her. ‘It’s okay, Tina, love. Take your time. There’s no pressure.’ She shot a warning glance at Fitzgerald, who rolled her eyes.
‘Do any of them have bruises?’ Tina asked Ruth.
‘Bruises? I don’t know, love.’
‘What sort of bruises?’ asked Fitzgerald.
‘On their arms,’ said Tina. ‘I hit him. On this side.’ She looked up at Ruth as she put her hand on the upper part of her left arm to indicate the area where she had beaten the driver of the car. ‘I hit him here, really, really hard.’
Ruth turned to Fitzgerald. ‘Tina hit the driver of the car repeatedly on his head and his arm to get him to stop the car. The chances are the man concerned will be bruised.’
‘Winter?’ Fitzgerald was hanging out of the door again. ‘Get each of them to show us the top of their left arm.’
There was clearly a bit of grumbling going on in the next room when Winter conveyed the next instruction, but they did as requested. To Karen Fitzgerald’s disappointment, none of the men had any visible marks or bruises. She was pacing the floor, desperate for a positive identification of George Cotter.
Tina turned to Ruth. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just don’t know.’
‘Have another look, for heaven’s sake,’ said Fitzgerald, frustration making her short on patience.
‘Easy, Karen,’ Ruth counselled.
Penny shot Fitzgerald a look and reached a hand out to her daughter, but the little girl was leaning in to Ruth Crinson. She let her arm drop back to her side and pursed her lips.
Fitzgerald took a deep breath, counted to ten. ‘I’m sorry, folks. It’s just that I’m so sure it’s him.’
‘It probably is,’ said Ruth. ‘But Tina was terrified when she was in the car with him. It was dark and she saw him mostly from behind.’
‘I’m really sorry,’ Tina told Fitzgerald.
Karen Fitzgerald breathed out. ‘That’s okay, love, it can’t be helped. We’ll just have to get him another way.’
***
When they got back to the house, the postman had been. Ruth picked the mail off the doormat. ‘I’ll sort through these and give you what’s yours,’ she told Penny and Derek. They didn’t argue. Neither of them was in any hurry for a repeat of the previous day’s experience.
Ten minutes later they were seated in the lounge with cups of tea. Ruth had kept four envelopes and passed the rest over. ‘I’ll open these ones,’ she told them. ‘My apologies if they’re normal mail. If they are, I’ll pass them straight to you. If they aren’t, I’ll get them to the station.’
‘Do you really think there might be more hate mail?’ asked Derek.
‘You never know how people will react to things,’ Ruth told him. ‘Some people can be very judgemental. They don’t think straight when there’s a kiddie