14 July 1992

"You sure you'll be all right being in there with him?"

She rolled her eyes and tried to keep her temper in check. "Of course I will. I'm a police officer, aren't I?"

"Yes, but he is a sex offender," the prison officer said, looking her up and down, "and he's in here for attempting to rape a police officer, amongst other things."

It was tempting to laugh, given that the man clearly had no idea that she was the police officer in question, but she kept her expression as neutral as possible under the circumstances. "I'll be fine."

"Suit yourself. Room two."

As she made her way along the corridor, she couldn't help but think that one prison was very much like another. Wandsworth was no different to Longmarsh, except that it was older, chillier and had the faint smell of damp about it. Despite the warm summer day outside, it felt like winter when she entered the visiting room, and she couldn't help but regret the light blouse she had chosen to wear under her jacket. A hat, scarf and gloves would have been more appropriate. She shivered as she sat down and told herself that it was only the temperature and nothing else. She wasn't fearful of Ryan. After all, what could he really do to her now?

Frank had called her three times the previous evening after she had told him not to come over. She hadn't answered, preferring to let it go to voicemail. The first message he had left was fair and neutral, the second, irritated, and the third almost panicked sounding. When she had called him back, they had ended up arguing to the point that she had put the phone down on him and then sat staring at it for what seemed like hours trying to rationalise everything in her brain. It was one thing to be concerned about her facing her attacker, but it was almost as though there was something more to it, something that he wasn't saying, something that she couldn't quite put her finger on. As a result, she'd slept fitfully, snoozing her alarm more times than she had intended, resulting in a sudden leap out of bed and a frantic attempt to make herself look presentable before travelling to the prison. Though quite why how she might look mattered she wasn't sure.

Five minutes passed and she found herself tapping her foot restlessly on the floor, jumping suddenly when the door behind her opened and the officer stuck his head in. "He's running late."

"Late?"

"Yeah, but he'll be here, don't worry."

With that, he closed the door again and she resumed her waiting, her stomach churning with anxiety and anticipation. Another five minutes or so passed and then the door at the far end opened and Ryan stepped into the room, his gaze locking with hers. Immediately, she felt a momentary wave of panic wash over her and her mind flashed back to that night when he had her on the bed, intent on taking her. No amount of counselling could ever rid her of the vision.

"I shouldn't have done it," he said after a long silence. "I'm sorry."

It wasn't what she had expected to hear, and it took her a moment to recover, unsure what she was supposed to say in response. Did she tell him that she forgave him? That it was all right? That it was in the past?

"You don't have to say anything."

"Good." She paused. "What would you have done to me?" He frowned. "After you'd raped me, what would you have done to me? Killed me?"

"Probably."

"I see."

"Lucky for you it never got that far, I suppose."

"Yes, lucky." She shifted in her chair. "I spoke to Rod Patterson. He was the one who put me onto you."

"Yeah, I know. I asked him to." He cocked his head on one side. "How's your husband doing? I can't imagine a copper gets an easy ride in jail."

"He's not in the job anymore."

"You know what I mean."

"And he's my ex-husband." She wasn't sure why she felt the need to clarify it, but it somehow needed saying.

"So I heard. News travels fast."

"You're in touch with Patterson then?"

"Of course. There's ways and means." He sat back in his chair. "I figured that if I approached you first, you wouldn't come, even if I'd told you it was about Stewart."

"But you thought Patterson would be able to persuade me?" she replied, hearing a note of disbelief in her own tone.

"Well, here you are."

He had her there, so she said nothing, waiting for him to continue. For a long moment, he said nothing, his eyes trailing over her face and down her body, which she surreptitiously tried to hide by folding her arms tightly across her chest. "Patterson said you might know something about what happened to Stewart, that you might know something about who was responsible for shooting him."

"Does that matter to you, knowing who it was?"

"Of course."

"Why?" he smiled. "You're divorced. Why do you care?"

"Because…because he suffered badly as a result of what happened and if there's any way of catching and punishing the people responsible then…"

"I see." He nodded mockingly at her. "Even after everything he was involved in?"

She felt her throat go dry. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on," he laughed. "You really think that it was just bad luck on his part that night? You think whoever it was intended to shoot just anyone? No, that bullet was meant for him. Nothing less than he deserved, of course. Just a shame it wasn't a little more to the left." He paused. "Do you remember what I told you that night? What I told you about your husband when I was on top of you?"

Her stomach contracted at the mere mention of it, the glittering excitement in his eyes at odds with the apology he had given her minutes earlier. "I remember you said something about him being hot for someone."

"You know what it was about."

"I found out later that you shared a snout with him and that…well…there was an insinuation that he had slept with her, and you weren't happy about it."

"An insinuation? There's nothing to insinuate. He did sleep with her. Repeatedly. Then he raped her."

A faint buzzing started in her ears. She remembered asking Stewart about it afterwards, remembered his indignation at the mere suggestion that he had slept with any snout. She had been so sure, so convinced that he didn't have it in him to be unfaithful, had even railed at Frank when he had suggested it weeks later after seeing Stewart in the pub….

But rape?

Ryan's eyes narrowed. "You don't believe me?"

"I…don't know what to believe."

"Her name was Stephanie. She was very pretty and well connected in the 'underworld' as we like to call it. She gave me a lot of good information over the years. I got a lot of arrests out of her, and nobody ever connected it. She got paid for her information, of course, but occasionally she and I would have a roll in the hay, kind of like a sweetener."

"A sweetener for who?"

"Both of us. She was good in bed but then, so was I." He smiled at her. "Pity you never got to find out just how good. I bet you're a little tiger when you're let loose. Maybe I should ask your DI about that."

"What does you shagging your snout have to do with Stewart?" she asked, keen to divert the conversation back to the purpose of her visit.

"Well, we had a joint operation going with the Drugs Squad and Stephanie…well…she started to pull back from me. Wouldn't give me the information I needed, wasn't interested in going to bed with me anymore…I knew that something was up. I got it out of her eventually. She told me that she'd slept with your husband and that she only wanted to give information to him. That wasn't part of our deal though. She was my snout, not his. No way was I going to let him have her. I made her tell him that it was over, that she wasn't going to give him any more information and she wasn't going to sleep with him anymore..."

"You made her?"

"…but he didn't like that and that's when he raped her."

"You're lying."

"Am I?" he leaned forwards. "She came to me afterwards, all upset about how he had pinned her down, ripped her clothes and forced his cock inside her, and I told her I'd sort it. Only, I didn't want to take him on. I mean, that would just have given the whole game away and possibly put Stephanie in danger so…I thought of another way."

"So, you suggested to DI Driscoll that he put someone on the inside of the club." Ryan nodded. "And you told him it should be me and then you persuaded Patterson to hire me."

"Patterson didn't like your husband any more than I did, so he was happy to help. At first, all I wanted to do was get you to sleep with someone. I thought it would be a lot of fun telling Stewart how his wife had dropped her knickers and opened her legs all in the name of duty. A lot of fun telling him that another man's cock had been inside you. Of course, when I actually had you there, I suddenly realised how much more fun it would be for it to be my cock."

Bile crept up into her throat and she shivered violently. "Stewart's not capable of rape."

He looked at her for a long moment, almost enjoying his discomfort and her clear need to direct the conversation away from herself. "Of course he is, all men are."

"Not all men are like you."

"Which part don't you believe? The part about him sleeping with another woman, or the part about him raping her?"

She didn't know what to say. All the memories of that time came flooding back, how often Stewart was late at work, how he would never tell her what he was working on, how vague his concern was for her after she had almost been violated, how he had walked away from court during the trial when she had needed him there…did his apparent lack of care at that time really boil down to the fact that he was unfaithful?

"Stephanie wasn't the first," Ryan sat back in his chair when she didn't respond. "Your husband had a bit of a reputation in the squad. He liked to put it about a bit, and I don't just mean snouts. Anything that moved, is what I heard."

"No…" she shook her head, unwilling to believe what he was telling her. "No, that's not…" That wasn't what Stewart had been. He had never been like that. He had been faithful. She had always believed that about him, despite all his many other faults. Anything that moved was a description far better suited to…Frank.

"Ask Harry Grimm if you don't believe me."

She pulled her suit jacket tighter around herself, unsure if it was to try and stop the relentless chills coursing through her or whether it was somehow to create a barrier between herself and Ryan, to try and hide any evidence that what he was saying was getting to her. "What does…" she struggled to find her voice. "What does any of this have to do with who shot him and why?"

"Could have been anyone in theory," he replied. "Jealous husband, angry pimp…I hope you got yourself checked out after you left him. Oh, but then…you moved on to someone just as bad, didn't you?"

"I said, what does this…?"

"Stephanie was connected to some very dangerous people. I don't think for one minute that I was the only one she told about what your husband did to her. I can give you one name that might be helpful; Lenny Carter."

"Who's he?"

"Just someone that whoever's investigating the shooting might want to talk to, if anyone still cares that is, given that Stewart's inside now himself. And for the attempted murder of his own wife?" he shook his head in mock sorrow. "How the mighty fall. He should have got a lot longer than eight years though."

"He denied it. He denied the whole story about this snout…"

"Well, he would, wouldn't he? Wouldn't want to upset his beautiful and devoted wife, would he? Wouldn't want her to know the truth about him. I bet it was a real slap in the face for him when you started riding Frank Burnside. All right for Stewart to put his cock in other women, but not all right for you to let someone else put their cock inside you."

She got to her feet and turned for the door. "You're disgusting, not to mention a disgrace to the job."

"But I'm giving you helpful information here."

"And what do you get out of it? It's not going to shorten your sentence, is it? Besides, if you hate Stewart so much, why are you giving me information that's potentially going to help us catch who shot him? Why would you care if we ever caught who did it?"

"That's for me to know, isn't it?" He paused and looked her up and down. "I think I'd have liked to get my cock in you. All those years with Stewart and I bet you had no clue what you were missing. I hope Frank Burnside showed you. You needed showing."

Before he could say any more, she threw open the door and hurried out into the corridor, striding her way back towards the entrance, ignoring the prison officer who called out to her, not breaking stride until she was back outside in the warm sunshine. As she reached her car, a sudden wave of nausea cascaded over her and she bent double, vomiting at her own feet before leaning back against the vehicle and putting her head in her hands.

XXXX

"I don't know why you're asking me this."

"Why do you think I'm asking you this?!"

Harry leaned back in his chair and looked down at the table between them. "I don't know what you want me to tell you."

She sighed, frustration and anger gnawing at her insides, refusing to go away. The moment she had regained control of herself she had found a payphone, called Harry and demanded that they meet. She had been somewhat surprised that he had agreed to it and knew that, in any other circumstances, she would be enjoying watching his discomfort as she interrogated him. But this…this wasn't enjoyable at all. "Did Stewart have affairs?"

"I don't know…"

"You were his closest friend on the squad. You're the only one still in touch with him now!"

"Exactly, so why would I want to speak ill of him?!"

It was her turn to sit back, to take in what he was saying, to realise that there may be truth, after all, in the hate Ryan had spewed at her, no matter how much she wanted to disbelieve it, wanted to put it down to the rantings of a frustrated rapist. "So, it's true? He was sleeping around?"

"Look Chris, Stewart loved you. Isn't that the only thing that matters?"

"No, no it isn't and if he was screwing around then I think that's a pretty big indicator that he didn't love me!"

Harry sighed heavily. "There's nothing I can tell you."

"Nothing you want to tell me, you mean."

"That too. I'm his friend, probably one of the only ones he's got left."

"So, you're just going to close ranks on me? Don't you think I deserve to know? Don't you think it's important for me to know if my marriage was a sham or not?"

"It wasn't a sham; you know it wasn't."

"I don't know anything anymore." Her head felt as though it was going to explode away from her body. "Affairs with snouts, rape…"

"Stewart would never rape anyone, you know that. He wouldn't need to."

She paused and looked at him. "What does that mean?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I just meant that, well, he had you, so why would he need to go out and…and violate anyone?"

"Frank told me he saw him in a pub with his arm around another woman and I told him that it couldn't be true, that Stewart would never cheat on me and now…"

"Well, you know why Frank would have told you that, don't you? It's because he was dying to get into your knickers himself, that's why. No doubt he was delighted to be able to pinpoint anything that might suggest Stewart was playing away."

"This was long before anything happened between us."

"Doesn't mean he wasn't thinking it. Look…Stewart's in prison and you're divorced. What good is any of this going to do? Why were you even visiting the creep anyway?" She shook her head, unwilling to divulge the real reason for her visit, acutely aware that it would go straight back to her ex-husband. "Stewart was faithful to you, as far as I know."

"As far as you know? Well, that inspires a lot of confidence, Harry, thanks."

"Well, I wasn't with him twenty-four hours a day, was I? If he was screwing around, I never saw any evidence of it. Look, why don't you ask him all this yourself? I'm sure he'd be willing to set you straight, put your mind at rest. You always wanted to visit him, didn't you? Now's your chance."

"He refused to see me after he almost stabbed me to death, but if he gets wind that I'm questioning his fidelity he'll welcome me into the prison with open arms?" Harry looked away. "I don't want to see him. How could I ever trust what he was telling me was the truth?"

"Because you know him!"

"I thought I did. I'm not sure I do anymore."

"Christina…" he leaned forwards. "Ryan Brown is a murderer and a rapist, not to mention a bent cop and, for some reason, you're prepared to put stock in everything he says without question?"

"Is Stewart really any better?"

"He still loves you, despite what you've done."

"Despite what I've done?!" she exclaimed, incredulously. "What have I done?"

"Come on, you were shagging Burnside behind his back."

"Because he was too busy getting himself constantly pissed! Not to mention banged up!"

"So, it was all right for you to cheat but not all right for him? If he was cheating, that is, which I'm not saying he was."

"I never gave him any reason to cheat on me. He gave me a million reasons to walk away. Besides, we're not talking about me, we're talking about him!"

"Look, he knows he's got no chance with you, especially now, but don't you think you at least owe him the opportunity to put forward his side of the story and answer the accusations that Ryan Brown's made?"

XXXX

Afternoon gave way to evening before he had even realised it. There had been meetings for most of the day and paperwork to catch up on, so much so that he had barely had time to draw breath before the hands on his watch slipped past five o'clock and the end of the shift. Christina hadn't returned from her visit to the prison, her desk untouched, no-one seemingly any the wiser as to where she was. He had been rattled by her the previous night, by her insistence not to listen to him, to his concerns about her visiting Ryan and now, even though he knew that it was unlikely anything physical had happened to her, he couldn't help but worry about the mental affect.

Not to mention, what she might have discovered.

He didn't want to appear desperate, anxious or overbearing, but when he pulled up outside her flat and saw the lights inside, he felt an acute sense of relief, heighted when she opened the door, and he could see that she was unharmed.

"You didn't come back to the station," he said by way of greeting.

"So, are you here to bollock me?"

"Course not. I just wanted to make sure that you're all right." Wordlessly, she held the door open for him and he followed her inside where the radio was playing and there was a glass of wine on the coffee table. "So, how did it go?"

She lifted the glass and drained it before shaking her head.

"What happened?" he asked, concern suddenly flooding him. "Did he touch you? Did he…?"

"No, nothing like that." She sighed and sat down heavily on the couch. "He gave me a name. Someone he said any investigation team might want to talk to in relation to the shooting. Lenny Carter.

"Never heard of him."

"Me neither. Not that it matters whether we know him or not, I suppose. I just need to pass it on."

He waited for her to say more, the silence stretching between them. "And?"

She looked up again and met his gaze, "And…he told me a few other things too. A few things that…that I wasn't expecting."

His chest grew cold with the sudden sensation of guilt and braced himself for what was to come next. Somehow, Ryan had found out about what he had done in stopping her seeing Stewart and had told her. It was the only explanation. "Chris…"

"He told me that Stewart had an affair with the snout, just like Driscoll said. Said he raped her."

"What?" Even for Stewart Church, it seemed extreme. "You don't think…"

"He said that he had a lot of affairs, liked to put it about…anything that moved…" she laughed bitterly as though she hadn't heard him, and he waited for her to link the comment to him. "I didn't want to believe him…but then I spoke to Harry…"

"Harry? Harry Grimm, that fat, sweaty oaf who pounced on me at the domestic violence course?" The moment the words left his mouth, he wished he could take them back, as her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, he was at the course but…you never told me that you spoke to him."

"Oh, well it must have slipped my mind after your dad died. Yeah, he came and spoke to me, gave me a hard time about our affair, the usual…" she nodded, and he felt instantly relieved. "Did you talk to him today?"

"Ryan told me that I should ask Harry if I didn't believe him. He denied it, of course, told me that Stewart loved me and that was all that mattered…" she shook her head again. "Was I really so naïve that I never saw it? Was he really shagging about under my nose without me noticing? Was he a…a rapist?"

"Well, two different things, surely. He might have been shagging about, but the rape allegation might be a lie."

"So many things make sense. All the times he was evasive about work, all the late nights, the way he spoke to me sometimes, his arrogance…he told me I should talk to him."

"Who?"

"Harry. He told me I should talk to Stewart about it face to face, that he would want to talk to me, to set me straight."

He felt his breath catch in his throat as he waited for her to continue. If Stewart did allow her to visit, then there would be nothing stopping him revealing what he knew and his own part in stopping her seeing him in the first place. "And?"

Tears suddenly filled her eyes. "I never want to see him again. I've spent so much time worrying about him, about how he's coping inside and what he might do to himself and all the time…" she shook her head. "Even if he denied it to my face, told me there was never anyone else and that he would never dream of raping anyone…how could I ever trust him? How could I ever believe him? He stabbed me with a bottle! You were right. All those years ago when you told me you'd seen him in the pub with another woman and I wouldn't listen, wouldn't dare let you question his fidelity to me…you were right. I should have listened to you then." She wiped her hand across her eyes. "I need to look forward, to being with you, to us getting married. Not back. Never back."

She stepped into his arms, and he held her to him, crushing her tightly as he felt an overwhelming sense of relief. If she was never going to see Stewart again, then he had dodged the bullet. She would never find out what strings he had pulled to keep them apart and, even if she did, she would never believe it, not now.

"I don't want to talk about him again," she said, pulling back and looking at him. "Beyond passing on the name Ryan gave me I don't want to waste any more time thinking about him. You're my future. It's us, you and me." Pressing her forehead against his, she let out a long breath. "Promise me you'll never treat me the way he did."

He kissed her gently, victory his once more. "I promise."