“Not a lot,” said Banks. “You don’t when they grow up, do you? I’m afraid I’ve been a bit neglectful of even my own daughter, too. Obviously. It’s been a hard summer. Personal problems.”
“So would it surprise you to hear that Erin had a reputation for running a bit wild?”
“No more so than any other attractive girl her age, I shouldn’t think. But no, I wasn’t aware she had that reputation.”
“Liked bad boys.”
“That’s hardly unusual.”
“It explains McCready.”
“You’re assuming she knew how bad he was.”
“If she took the gun and knew he dealt drugs, she had to have some inkling.”
“Are you suggesting that whatever he was into, Erin was involved?”
“It’s a possibility we need to consider. She was hardly an innocent bystander.”
“Tracy, too?”
“I’m not saying that. If Tracy does have any sort of relationship with McCready, it’s a very recent one. Maybe they just fancied each other, and he was tired of Erin Doyle. But he’s shown his true colors now. She can’t be too happy about it. She must know she’s made a very bad error in judgment.”
“I’m sure she does,” said Banks. “What’s going to happen to Erin?”
“No idea. She’s still not talking.”
“I remember when she was a little kid,” Banks said. “Erin. She used to wear pigtails and she had freckles across her nose and on her arms. Cute. I took her and Tracy to Blackpool Illuminations once. They loved it. Though I think it was more the staying up late after dark than the illuminations themselves. They both fell asleep in the car on the way home. Brian, too.” Banks shook his head to clear the memory. “Sorry,” he went on. “You’re right. It’s a bit close to home.”
“When Juliet Doyle came to report the gun, she asked for you.”
“So Chambers said. Made quite a big deal of it, in fact. But it makes sense to me. She knows me. Turning in her own daughter must have been a terrible decision for her.”
“Do you reckon she thought you’d go easy on Erin?”
“Probably,” said Banks. “But I’d like to think I could have defused the situation without anyone getting killed.”
“Maybe you could have, but you weren’t here, and hindsight’s no use to us now.”
The phone rang. Gervaise answered it, listened for a moment, then thanked the caller and hung up. “That was Winsome,” she said. “We’ve just had a bit of a break. We found the car. Or a car. Up behind your cottage, on the moors road.”
Banks gripped the arms of his chair. “Abandoned?”
“Hidden in the woods behind a wall. Local birdwatcher found it, remembered the news about the shooting and reported it. Preliminary examination indicates the gears were stripped.”
“So they’re out on the moors on foot. They can’t have got far.”
“Don’t get too excited. We can’t be sure it’s their car yet. Though there is confirmation of sorts.”
“What?”
“The last entry in Annie’s notebook. It was the car’s number plate.”
“She must have made a note of it when she dropped by my cottage.
Seeing a strange car there would have struck her as odd under any circumstances.”
“Maybe. But that’s all there was. A car number. No time, place, or date. She could have seen it anytime that day, or even before. This wasn’t her official notebook, you understand.”
“But still…it’s a bit too much of a coincidence, isn’t it?”
“Yes. We’ve got men out on foot and in patrol cars looking, as well as the search and rescue team. Now we can narrow our search, concentrate on the moors. But it’s pretty wild up there, as you know. It looks as if they may have spent the night in a ruined barn about three miles from the cottage.”
“What do you think?” Banks asked.
“I think a city boy like McCready will be feeling too exposed up there. Twelve miles of bad roads, or no roads at all for the most part. He’ll want to find the nearest large village or small town and probably steal a car. Head for the city.”
“Risky.”
“Everything’s a risk since he shot Annie. And the stakes are high.”
“I know,” said Banks. “The nearest village is Baldersghyll. It’s not very big, though.”
“The local station there’s been alerted. There’s more. The car’s registered to a Victor Mallory. Lives in Horsforth, Leeds.”
“Stolen?”
Gervaise shook her head. “I don’t think so. Maybe. But according to Winsome, Victor Mallory comes up on West Yorkshire’s radar as one of McCready’s suspicious cronies.”
“Any connection with The Farmer, or with Ciaran and Darren?”
“Not that we know of.”
“So Jaff borrowed the car from this Mallory?”
“Looks that way. It’s the best lead we’ve got so far.”
“Anyone talked to him yet?”
“The Leeds police are keeping an eye on his house for us. I thought, perhaps, it would be a good place for you to start. And while you’re down there, you could have a word with The Farmer, too. But tread softly.”
“I promise,” said Banks. “And thanks. I mean for letting me in on this. I won’t let you down.”
“Better not,” said Gervaise. “Or you’ll be the one in the kennel licking your balls. They’ll hurt so much.”
ON HIS way back to the office, Banks bumped into the female AFO officer he had met in the hospital. She looked as if she had been lurking in the corridor.
“Any news?” she asked as he opened his office door.
“Come in,” Banks said, and she followed him. “Sit down. PC Newell, isn’t it?”
Nerys sat. “Powell, sir.”
“Right,” said Banks. “I remember now. You must excuse me. I’m a bit jet-lagged. Usually I have a much better memory for names and faces.”
“That’s all right, sir. I wouldn’t expect you to remember me. I was just worried about Annie…about DI Cabbot, that’s all. I wanted to ask if you have any news.”
“No good news, I’m afraid. It’s just a matter of waiting, the doctor said. They’ll know more if she makes it through the first twenty-four hours.”
“You mean there’s a chance she might not?”
“There’s always a chance.”
Nerys bit her lip. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she said. “I know that you and her were…you know. I know she means a lot to you.”
“It was a long time ago,” said Banks.
“Yes, sir. But I’m sure she still means a lot to you. You couldn’t just forget someone like her, could you?”
“If I might ask,” Banks went on, “why all the concern on your part? I mean, other than that for a fellow officer wounded in the line of duty?”
Nerys turned away and began to fidget. “Like I said at the hospital, sir, I feel a bit responsible. We were working together. And we talked. She gave me some advice. That’s all.”
“Responsible? How could you be?”
“I don’t mean it’s logical, sir. It’s just…you know…the call…the Taser.”
“You’re the officer who-”
“No, sir. It wasn’t me. That was Warby. PC Warburton. But I was with him. I’m his partner. He’s a mate.”
“Right. I see. And just how does that make you responsible for what happened to Annie?”
“It doesn’t. Not directly, sir. I just feel partly to blame. If things had gone differently…”
Banks leaned back in his chair. “Look, PC Powell,” he said. “If we all adopted that attitude we’d never get anywhere. If. If. If. I could just as well blame myself for not being here when Juliet Doyle came to see me. If I had been, things would have been different again, wouldn’t they?” And my daughter probably wouldn’t be God knows where in the grip of some psycho, or Annie lying in a hospital bed close to death’s door, he thought. “You were only doing your job,” he said. “Don’t start assuming the burden of guilt, second guessing. There’s no future in that.”