“Yes.”
“I trust you have appointed a Family Liaison officer?”
“Patricia Yu. She’d done the requisite courses and has over a year’s experience.”
“Very well. I’d like you to proceed very carefully with the investigation, and keep me posted. Regular reports.” She tapped her desk. “Here. In my office.”
“Yes,” said Annie. She stood up to leave. “And, Annie?”
Annie turned at the door and raised her eyebrows.
“Watch your back. I don’t trust Chambers any more than you do.” She paused. “And about DCI Banks. If anything…Well, you know what I mean.”
“Yes, I know,” said Annie.
IT WAS after lunchtime before Tracy got Jaff on the road to Eastvale. He had dragged his feet so much that she had offered to go and do the shopping alone, which would have suited her far better, but he wouldn’t have any of it. She wasn’t leaving his sight, he told her. “Such devotion,” she replied. He missed the sarcasm.
The roads and the Swainsdale villages were busy with tourist traffic, and nobody paid Vic’s silver-gray Ford Focus any special attention as they passed through Gratly, Helmthorpe or Fortford. Jaff drove cautiously, hovering just above the speed limit the whole way, like most of the other cars, except when he got stuck behind a tractor and slowed to a crawl, cursing so much that Tracy cracked up laughing. “It’s amazing,” she said. “Like you’ve never been in the country before.”
Jaff laughed with her. “I’ve been on worse roads than this, babe. But you’re right. Tractors and caravans. I’m with Jeremy Clarkson on that.”
When they got to Eastvale the sky had clouded over. They parked in the pay-and-display under the Swainsdale Centre and took the escalator up to the shops. The center itself was bustling with people. For a moment Tracy worried that she might bump into someone who recognized her, then she realized it didn’t matter if she did. Nobody knew what was going on with her and Jaff. Nobody knew they were lying low until a spot of bother passed over.
Sometimes Tracy wondered if anybody actually went out to work anymore. She knew the economy was bad, but it seemed strange to her that if people were unemployed, or simply hadn’t any money, they were in the shopping center all the time. Unless they just came there to sigh through the windows at things they couldn’t afford, which seemed stupid. Most of the people she saw were young enough to have jobs, if there were any. Some were mothers pushing their kids in prams, of course, or trailing them around by the hand, but others didn’t look much more than school-leaving age, and very few of the shoppers seemed old enough to be pensioners.
The two of them blended in easily to the crowd. They bought newspapers at W.H. Smith’s and picked up a couple of CDs and DVDs at HMV. Jaff bought three white shirts, a Boss sports jacket and a new pair of designer jeans. He eyed Tracy up and down. “You know, you could do with some new clothes, too, babe,” he said. “I can’t say that charity-shop look really does a lot for you.”
Tracy felt hurt. It was true that most of the clothes she was wearing came from charity shops, but no one had told her before that they didn’t look good on her. It wasn’t as if she bought granny’s castoffs or anything like that. But Jaff led her around the shops and she ended up with some Levi’s, a blue silk blouse, a burgundy pencil skirt with a matching top, and several expensive T-shirts of various colors. He also bought her a fitted kid-leather jacket to replace the ripped denim one she was wearing. Jaff said he hated it, so she threw it in a rubbish bin.
When Tracy tried the clothes on, she felt sophisticated, more like a Francesca than ever, and when she examined herself in the changing-room mirror she realized that she would probably look even better when she had washed the streaks out of her hair. She would do that when they got back to her dad’s cottage. She had her mother’s coloring-natural blond hair and dark eyebrows-and now that she had her hair cut short, in a sort of pixie-ish, spiky style, and was wearing good clothes, she resembled a professional young woman more than a student. The pencil skirt emphasized her slim waist and hips, and the top made the best of her small breasts. She liked what she saw, and it amazed her that Jaff had such immaculate taste, even regarding the clothes she should wear. He even bought her some sexy underwear and a nice leather Gucci shoulder bag to carry everything in, instead of the fraying canvas book bag she’d been using for ages. That followed the denim jacket into the rubbish bin.
Tracy needed to buy shampoo and conditioner, pink lipstick, the shade Jaff had said he liked, some nail-varnish remover, and a toothbrush and toothpaste. She had none of these things in her shoulder bag, which was all she had brought with her from Leeds, and had had to use her father’s toiletries that morning.
They went to Superdrug, where Tracy found what she needed. When she reached for her debit card, ready to pay, Jaff took hold of her hand “What do you think you’re doing?” he whispered. “Are you crazy or something?”
“I’ve got no cash left, Jaff,” Tracy protested. “I need these things. I’ve got to pay somehow.”
“Well, you can’t use your debit or credit cards,” he whispered, glancing around. “They can be traced. It’s like the first thing they do. Didn’t you know that? Aren’t you taking this seriously?”
“But you used yours. I saw you.”
“It’s corporate, and it can’t be traced to me.”
“But why…? Never mind.” Tracy realized that she hadn’t got used to thinking like a fugitive. Perhaps she wasn’t taking it seriously, more as a fun game, as make-believe. She wasn’t sure that she wanted to grasp the full reality of the situation, either, but for the moment she knew that she had to go along with Jaff. Soon, she was certain, everything would be settled, and they could all go back to the way things were, whatever that was, but for now she had to be up to the adventure. “Nobody’s looking for me,” she said.
“Doesn’t matter. They might be. They will be. It’s best to be cautious. Okay, babe? Here, it’s not very much. Take this.” Jaff gave her a lopsided grin and pulled a wad of cash from his pocket. He discreetly peeled off a couple of of twenty-pound notes and handed them to her. “This should cover it. Keep the change in case you see anything else you fancy. Don’t even think of using your plastic. If you need anything, come to me.”
Tracy took the money. She knew better than to ask where it had come from, just as she had known not to ask him why he was carrying an untraceable credit card. This whole shopping expediton was making her head spin, making her feel a bit scared and, perhaps, a bit excited.
Last of all, they went to the Tesco’s and bought lots of ready-to-cook meals, things they could just nuke in the microwave, like pizza, quiches, chicken Kievs and curries, mostly, along with eggs, bread, bacon, milk, chocolate bars and biscuits for when they got the munchies; more tins of baked beans; cheese and packaged meats for sandwiches. That would see them through until the end of the week, Tracy thought. They didn’t need to buy wine, Jaff said, because her father had more than enough quality stuff for them to be going on with.
Back at the car, they loaded their purchases in the boot. “That was fun,” Tracy said. “What do you want to do next?”