Fever of the Bone (12 page)

She could see Riley visibly loosen up. ‘Smart lass.’

‘You don’t seem very anxious about Daniel. Does that mean you think he’s a runaway?’

Riley shrugged his meaty shoulders. ‘Not exactly a runaway. More a lad on a bit of an adventure. Like you said, he’ll likely turn up with a well-shagged look on his face.’

‘What makes you say that?’

Riley took an aggressive drag on his cigarette and spoke through the exhale. ‘Spoilt little shit. Mummy and Daddy’s little darling. No reason for him to do a runner when he gets everything his own way at home.’

Paula let that lie for now. In her experience, you didn’t generally get anything like the whole picture from the family in the first couple of days of a disappearance. It might seem on the surface as if Daniel wanted for nothing, but sometimes that also meant a kid had more to deal with than he’d bargained for. ‘You’ve ruled out abduction?’

‘If it was a kidnap, either the parents wouldn’t be talking to us or we’d be seeing a ransom demand by now. Besides, the dad’s not ransom material. He’s got plenty, but not the kind of plenty that makes kidnap worth the candle.’ Riley sucked the last of the cigarette down to the filter and crushed the butt underfoot with an air of finality.

‘What’s the last sighting?’

Riley yawned and stretched then reached for another cigarette. ‘He’s a pupil at William Makepeace. He rode into town on the bus after school on Monday. He was by himself, but a couple of other lads from his year were sitting near him. They all got off the bus at Bellwether Square. The other lads went to the computer game shop. They say Daniel walked off across the square in the opposite direction.’

‘Towards Temple Fields?’ In spite of herself, Paula felt the hair on her arms prickle. It was nothing to do with the chill wind slanting down from the moors.

‘That’s right.’

‘And after that?’

Riley shrugged. ‘Well, we’ve not put out an appeal, so we’ve not got five hundred time-wasters giving out from Land’s End to John O’Groats about how they’ve seen him.’ He walked to the mouth of the shelter and looked out across the city, apparently through with his report. Just when Paula was about to write him off as a lazy bastard, Riley surprised her. ‘I took a look at the city-centre CCTV,’ he said. ‘The lads were telling the truth. Daniel crossed the square and cut down a side alley that takes you into Temple Fields.’ He turned his head and gave her an appraising look. ‘You know what that’s like better than most. Am I right?’

For a moment, Paula wasn’t sure whether he was referring to her sexuality. ‘Sorry?’ she said, her tone sharp enough to indicate she wasn’t going to let homophobia go past without a fight.

‘You are the one, aren’t you? The one who got caught in the crossfire when that undercover in Temple Fields went tits-up? ‘

Paula would almost have preferred the sexism she’d mistakenly ascribed to him. She’d nearly died in a scummy room in that maze of streets and alleys because of a killer who had been smarter than even Tony Hill had realised. Dragging herself back from the brink had been a harsh and hazardous journey, one she knew she couldn’t have managed without Tony’s support. Even now, more or less recovered as she was, she still hated that it was part of her history. ‘I’m the one,’ she said. ‘And I’m aware that the CCTV coverage in Temple Fields is still shit.’

Riley gave a one-finger salute with a dip of the head, acknowledging her admission. ‘Bad for business. We call it the gay village and pretend it’s gone respectable with its trendy bars and its poncey restaurants, but you and me, we know the truth. The sex shops and the hookers and the pimps and the dealers don’t want their customers on camera. So as soon as Daniel disappears into Temple Fields, we’re fucked.’

‘No chance of catching him leaving?’

Riley scratched his belly. ‘Too many options. Too much manpower to throw at a missing teenager. You know how it is. And still no guarantees. He could be in there right now, sacked out in somebody’s bloody warehouse flat. Or he could have left in the back of somebody’s car and we’d be none the wiser.’

‘Not good.’ Paula got to her feet and joined Riley in his scrutiny of the city below. Somewhere out there was the key to Daniel Morrison’s disappearance. It might as well have been in Iceland for all the use it was to them right now. ‘Not good at all.’

‘What are you going to do about it? Talk to the family?’

She shook her head. ‘It’s not up to me. But I’ll be advising my chief to let it lie till something changes. It sounds like you’ve covered the bases already.’

Riley seemed taken aback. ‘Right you are,’ he said, failing to hide a note of surprise. ‘If we’re no further forward by tomorrow morning, we’ll likely wheel the parents out at a press conference. I’ll give you fair warning.’

Paula stubbed out her cigarette. ‘Thanks, Sarge.’ She felt his eyes on her back as she crossed the roof to the fire stairs. She reckoned she’d made a new friend. The day had not been wasted.

Tony looked around the crowded curry house. He and Carol had been coming to the same Indian restaurant on the fringes of Temple Fields since the first case they’d worked together, and in spite of changes of décor and chef, it was still one of the busiest and the best. He’d once been concerned that the tables were so close that people would be put off their food by the conversations he and Carol shared, until he’d realised there was so much background noise that eavesdropping was impossible. And so it had become a regular rendezvous. Tony suspected they both appreciated its neutrality, a no man’s land where neither had territorial advantage in the complicated skirmishes of their relationship.

He glanced at his watch again and this time when he looked up he spotted Carol threading her way through the packed tables towards him. Her cheeks were pink from the chill of the evening, making her eyes seem bluer. Her thick blonde hair was ready for a cut, the layers growing shaggy and disordered. If pressed, Tony would have admitted he preferred the current look to the groomed perfection of a fresh cut. But then, nobody was likely to press him, least of all Carol.

She dropped into her chair with a whoosh of a sigh, shrugging off her coat and reaching for the sweating bottle of Cobra sitting in front of her. She clinked it against Tony’s and took a long swallow. ‘That’s better,’ she said. ‘Thirsty work, getting here on time.’

‘Good day?’ Tony knew the answer; they were here because the text she’d sent had invited him here to celebrate.

‘I think so,’ Carol said. Their waiter glided to a halt by the table and they both rattled off their orders without having to consult the menu. ‘We may just have the key to a fourteen-year-old cold case.’ She outlined the fresh evidence against Nigel Barnes. ‘The good news is that Stacey’s managed to narrow down the possible zones for the body dump, so Cumbria’s underwater search team are willing to take a crack at it. I’ve sent Sam up there to liaise with them.’

‘Well done. That should get you the kind of headlines to keep Blake off your back.’

The corners of her mouth turned down. ‘I don’t know. I suspect he’ll just write it off as something that would have happened whoever was doing cold cases, but he’d be wrong. See, most detectives, when they heard Nigel Barnes had moved house, they wouldn’t bother following up the way Sam did. They’d regard it as an excuse to let the whole thing drop. But my team are special. They think in tangents, not straight lines. It’s hard to explain to a man like Blake what that means on the ground.’

‘Especially if he doesn’t want to understand,’ Tony said.

Carol gave a wry smile. ‘Quite. But let’s not think about that tonight, let’s just enjoy the fact that my team are on the verge of another success.’

‘You do a good job. It’s hard, having to tell families their worst nightmares have come true, but at least you end the uncertainty. And bringing killers to justice, that’s always worth something. It’s the old cliché, but it’s true. You’re there to speak for the dead, to act on their behalf.’ He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling up at the corners. He was glad the evening had got off to a good start. He had a feeling it might not continue so smoothly.

A plate piled with vegetable and fish pakora arrived and they both helped themselves. There was a respectful silence as they worked their way through. At last, Tony sighed in satisfaction. ‘I didn’t realise how hungry I was.’

‘You always say that,’ Carol mumbled through her last mouthful of crisp batter and soft cauliflower.

‘It’s always true.’

‘So, how’s your day been?’

Wary now, Tony said, ‘Well, I’m pleased to say that even if James Blake doesn’t want me, there are others who do. I had a call today asking me to consult on a murder, so it looks like I’m still in demand.’

‘That’s great. Anyone I know?’ Carol looked genuinely pleased. He imagined that might not last.

‘A DI called Stuart Patterson.’

Carol frowned and shook her head. ‘Name doesn’t ring a bell.’

‘From West Mercia.’

Surprise flashed across her face, freezing her expression. ‘West Mercia? You’re going to Worcester?’ The accusation he’d expected was there in her voice.

‘That’s where I’m needed, Carol. I didn’t chase this. It chased me.’ He didn’t want to sound defensive but he knew he did.

‘You didn’t have to say yes.’

Tony threw his hands in the air. ‘I never have to say yes. And I always have to say yes. You know that. Like I just said, we’re the only ones left to speak for the dead.’

Carol hung her head. ‘I’m sorry. You’re right. It just seems . . . I don’t know. When I tried to talk to you about your father, you cut me off at the knees. You didn’t want to deal with it. And yet here you are, first chance you get, off to the city where he lived most of his adult life. You’ll be walking the streets he walked, seeing the buildings he saw, maybe even drinking in the same pubs as people who knew him.’

‘I can’t help that, Carol. It’s not like I drove down to Worcester to murder and mutilate a teenage girl on the off-chance West Mercia would call me in to do them a profile. This is what I do best, this is what makes me come alive. I’m good at it and I can help.’ He stopped speaking as the waiter arrived with their main courses.

Once they were alone again, she said, ‘So are you going to pretend you’ve got no connection with the place once you’re there?’

‘That wouldn’t be a pretence. I don’t have any connection.’

Carol gave a dry laugh as she loaded a piece of naan with karahi chicken. ‘Apart from owning a house and a boat there.’

‘That’s an accident, not a connection.’

She gave him a long look, compassionate and tender. ‘You won’t be able to resist, Tony. If you try to, it’ll eat a hole in your heart.’

‘That’s a bit melodramatic for you,’ he said, trying to deflect her concern. ‘Where’s my pragmatic detective chief inspector?’

‘Trying to get you to accept your own needs for once. You spend your life trying to fix what’s broken. You do it for your patients. You do it when you profile for us. You do it for the people you care about, people like Paula. And me. All I want is for you to be selfish this time and do it for yourself.’ She reached out and put a hand over his. ‘We’ve known each other a long, long time, Tony. We know a lot of the ways we’re both fucked up. When you’ve spotted opportunities to help me, you’ve taken them. Why won’t you let me do the same for you?’

He felt his throat swell, as if he’d swallowed a naga chilli whole. He shook his head, pushing his plate away. ‘I just want to do my job.’ Getting the words out was a strain.

‘I know that.’ Carol spoke gently, almost inaudible against the background noise. ‘But I think you’d do it better if you acknowledged your need to come to terms with your history.’

‘Maybe.’ He drank some beer and cleared his throat. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ He managed a weak smile. ‘You’re not going to let this go, are you?’

She shook her head. ‘How can I? I don’t like to see you hurting because you’re in denial.’

Tony laughed. ‘Excuse me, but I’m supposed to be the psychologist here.’

Carol pushed his plate back towards him. ‘And I’m a good learner. Now eat your dinner and let me tell you what I’ve managed to find out.’

‘You win,’ he said meekly, reaching for his fork.

‘It’s not like it’s anything approaching the whole picture,’ Carol said. ‘But it’s somewhere to start. The first good thing is that he didn’t have a criminal record. He even had a clean driving licence, though he did have a couple of speeding convictions in 2002. Probably down to the installation of speed cameras on the nearest main road.’

‘And then he learned to be careful.’ Tony slowly began to eat, one tiny morsel at a time.

‘The second good thing - at least, I think it was probably good for him, if not for the people who were close to him - is that his death was very quick. No lingering illness, no long period of debilitation. The cause of death was a massive heart attack. He’d been at some sort of canal boat rally and he was walking back to his boat when he collapsed on the quayside. By the time the ambulance arrived, he was beyond help.’

Tony imagined what that must have been like. The paralysing grip of sudden pain. The loss of control. The agonising understanding that this was it. The darkness descending. The terrible loneliness, the absence of anyone he cared about. No chance to say goodbye. No chance to make amends. ‘Did he know he was likely to have a heart attack?’

‘Not really. He’d been diagnosed with ischaemic heart disease, but it didn’t seem to have had any impact on the way he lived. He played golf, he spent a lot of time pottering about on the canals in his narrowboat, and he went to work. He smoked a cigar most evenings, he drank the best part of a bottle of red wine every day and he enjoyed eating out in expensive restaurants several times a week. Not the way you behave if you’ve got an eye on a long and healthy life.’

Tony shook his head. ‘How did you find this stuff out?’

‘I’m a DCI. I called the coroner’s officer.’

‘And they just told you all this? Didn’t they wonder why you wanted to know?’ Tony knew he shouldn’t be surprised by the lack of privacy the state offered its citizens, but there were still times when it amazed him how easy it was to garner information that was supposed to be confidential. ‘You could have been anybody,’ he added.