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Toshber crushed a hint of amusement by folding her lips into her mouth. “Think about it for a minute, Alison Villet.” The lipstick was gone.
“If she’s homeless she might go by another name. Does she have another name?”
“No, she’s not homeless. You’re saying you don’t know anyone called Alison.”
Drum narrowed his eyes. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“It’s a mystery then?” said Pagonis.
He used a tone of voice that told Drum the man thought the only mystery was whether he’d get home in time for dinner after getting a signed confession. “I’m sure you don’t think that.”
“We do,” said Toshber, “that’s why we need your help. Alison has a shirt and a book she says belong to you.”
“If that’s true she’s stolen them. Easy to do. I don’t have a front door.”
“Wouldn’t you know if your things went missing?”
“They did go missing. Someone trashed the cave, took my clothing, broke my furniture, tore and scattered all my books.”
Pagonis frowned. “When did this happen?”
“I don’t keep a calendar. I can give you an approximate date.”
“Did you tell anyone about this when it happened?”
Noddy and Blue knew. They’d helped him with the replacement couch. Foley knew. Had she told anyone?
“No.” She was involved in this in some way, but not by his hand.
“All right, we’ll come back to that. Alison says you invited her to your cave.”
“I don’t know anyone called Alison and I certainly never invited her to the cave.”
“You see, that’s where we have a problem. Alison says you met her in Marks Park, invited her to the cave, you talked, you made out and then you sexually assaulted her and beat her, then threatened to throw her off the cliff if she told anyone.”
Drum closed his eyes. This is what Foley thought he’d done. Better that she knew the truth than think this of him, think she’d been in danger with him—that he might’ve done the same to her.
“You need to formally charge me and then I’d like to call my lawyer.”
23: Suspended Animation
Foley felt sick and it wasn’t the return of food poisoning, but that’s what she’d told Gabriella. She didn’t go back into work. She went home to wait for Nat, to wait for news, to pace around the flat and bite her nails, something she hadn’t done since she was in primary school.
If Drum was a rapist, they should castrate him, jail him and throw away the key. If he was a rapist, why hadn’t he tried anything with her? Was being a rapist something you could turn on and off, like the internet? Why not? That seemed like a possibility. But he’d been nothing but restrained with her. He never made the first move and he always ended it when things got too intense for him. Surely that wasn’t the behaviour of a man who attacked women.
She didn’t know if she was lucky or stupid, if he’d been grooming her, or it was all a huge mistake. But he didn’t deny it. He didn’t even question her, so he had to be guilty.
Still she prayed for it to be a mistake and she hadn’t prayed since primary school.
Around 4pm, Nat called. “They’ve got him.”
“Oh God.” It was what she needed to hear, but it was still a shock.
“They picked him up at the house on Tamar Street. I managed to keep your name out of it. You’re my confidential source.”
“That’s good, right. What happens now?” They’d find out if he’d done it, they’d release him if it was nothing. But he’d virtually confessed to her, hadn’t tried to argue it. She’d seen guilt and shame take over every part of his body till he couldn’t stand upright.
“He’s in an interview room. That’s all I know.”
