Free Wilderness (Arbogast trilogy) by Campbell Hart Page A

top of the coverage. The messages were libellous but Arbogast knew Stevie’s reputation was already tarred and he wouldn’t have a chance of winning a court case. But there was no warrant out for Stevie so technically no-one was breaking the law. Sandy was already onto the case and this was certain to be all over the press before the day was out, regardless of anyone’s guilt or innocence. They would need to name him but it wasn’t his call.  He phoned into Motherwell and told DCI Ying. She was furious.
    “While I can get royally pissed at the press at least they check their information, this is just gossip and there doesn’t seem to be anything we can do. We’ll get hammered for keeping the public in the dark on this one but we haven’t even spoken to Mary Clark yet. Get to the hospital and see what you can get from our mystery woman. I’ll call a presser to tie in with the late night TV bulletins and we can hope for some damage limitation.”
    “Good luck Rosalind,” Arbogast said, but the line was already dead.
     
    By the time Sandy Stirrit arrived at Maplin Drive what looked like a full scale riot had broken out at a seemingly innocuous semi-detached council house. It was a quiet residential street which had erupted into a fury. There was a crowd of around 150 people, mostly children, mobbed around the house. All the front windows were broken and rocks and abuse was being hurled in its general direction. Sandy wondered if Stevie Davidson might be here, hiding. As he skirted around the mob police sirens cut through the noise of the rabble who knew their time was up. As the crowd ran the camera rolled. Someone had set fire to a pile of rubbish and left it burning on the doorstep. He could hear screams from inside. He’d seen this kind of thing before. It was peculiar to this area but when someone got wind of a sex offender living locally the mob turned ugly. Some of the local papers liked to print names and addresses but it inevitably ended up like this. Mothers would take their children down and families would unite to rid their community of its unwanted guest. It was horrible and ugly but he wondered what he would do in the same situation. He knew for a fact he wouldn’t take his kids to hound a pervert. These people were out of control but all the same he could understand their reasons.
     
    The TV news that night made for compelling viewing.  The opening shots of a mob running from the shattered facade of an urban home made for great footage. Sandy had managed to get a quick sound bite from Linda Davidson who sobbed as she was led away by ambulance staff and under police escort, “My Stephen’s done nothing wrong. It’s all in the past. Why can’t you leave him alone?” This was followed by confirmation from DCI Rosalind Ying that they were seeking to find both a Mr Stephen Davidson, who had been driving the coach, and an as yet unnamed child. No she could not comment on previous offences but they were treating this case as a force wide priority. They had yet to speak to the woman found but hoped that would happen shortly. The next day the papers were full of lurid details with past case notes ‘mysteriously’ appearing. It was trial by media. Although no charges had been raised against Stevie Davidson whatever happened next he was going to be blighted with scandal of the worst kind for the rest of his life.
     
    Jean Jessop had got up early the next day to see what people were saying. She hadn’t thought her campaign would have received so much attention but when the TV guy had turned up it had all gone stellar. But maybe she had got it wrong. Not about Stevie. He was guilty no doubt about it. But she’d expected him to be at his home but it had only been his mum. She had stopped when she saw her, tears streaking down her face, brought to her knees in her living room. But at least people knew now. At least they knew that it was Stevie that they were looking