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Terry Starkey’s voice slurred out of the speaker.

‘He can’t help showing off, can he?’ Khan said.

‘There’s another thing; Mohammad Asaf took a photo of the second victim, the girl. It’s on display at Chasebridge library. Here, I took a couple of pictures.’

‘Sean, I wish you’d use a notebook like everyone else.’

‘Fair point, guv, it’s just I haven’t really had time to sit down with a pen and paper. It’s all happening a bit fast. You see? It’s her. They knew each other.’

‘I think we need to go back inside and get some of this stuff on the boards. Cassius and Brutus will have to wait. If we’re going to be making an arrest, we need to be very clear what the charges are.’

‘Who are Cassius and Brutus?’

‘In this case, DS Dawn Simkins and the Chief Super back in Sheffield. You really should read Julius Caesar, Denton, you’d like it.’

‘Yeah, right.’

They got out of the car and walked slowly across the car park.

‘How was it with your dad?’ Khan said. ‘He looked like he needed a bit of help.’

‘It started well, then turned nasty. Same old story. I don’t know why I expected anything else,’ Sean said. ‘I’m going to have to go back. I left all my stuff there, including my keys and my wallet.’

Khan’s phone rang at that moment. He answered and listened to the caller.

‘OK, thanks, we’re on our way. Come on, Denton. Looks like you’ll have a chance to pay your dad a visit sooner rather than later.’

‘Sir? I think I’m supposed to be on patrol with PC Wentworth.’

‘Leave that with me.’ He turned and headed back to the car. ‘Come on or we’ll miss the fun. You wanted to know where Terry Starkey was on the night of Asaf’s murder? Well, I think we’re about to find out. We’ve got a raiding party ready to do a full search on his mother’s flat. I’m not in the habit of scaring old ladies, but I think it might be justifiable in this case.’

Khan started the car and turned out of the police station, onto the road behind the law courts. His phone rang again and Rick’s voice burst out of the speakerphone.

‘Message from the IT department, and I think you’re going to like it. Mohammad Asaf’s Blackberry records are in. Last received text from a SIM card registered to a Taheera Ahmed, 3 The Old Orchard, South Barnsall.’

‘I see,’ Khan kept his eyes fixed on the road as he swerved round a cyclist.

‘So she wasn’t a random subject for his photo project,’ Sean said.

‘Also, something else interesting,’ Rick was saying. ‘The car in PC Denton’s photograph, the one Starkey was driving? I’ve got the results on the licence plate. It’s registered to the same address as the girl’s phone contract, to a Mr Kamran D. Ahmed. Thing is, the DVLA has him down as disqualified for a year.’

‘That’s not the father’s name, he calls himself Raymond,’ Khan said. ‘Find out who this Kamran is and pay him a visit. Tread sensitively, they’ve just lost their daughter.’

‘Sir?’ Sean had a feeling of things sliding into place, not quite connecting, but getting closer. ‘I took a picture of the screensaver on Starkey’s phone. I had a hunch it was nicked. There was a garden, trees covered in flowers, like an orchard. Could be The Old Orchard – where her family lives? The phone had these scratches, like where a cover had been pulled off. Pink. Look, I think he had the girl’s phone. Perhaps he sent the text to Mohammad?’

The lights ahead of them turned amber. The car in front went through.

‘Or he took it off her body,’ Khan said.

‘Wouldn’t he have thrown it away?’

Khan pulled up dead on the stop line. ‘Rick? You still there?’

‘Yes, I’m here,’ Rick said.

‘When you get to the Ahmed house, bring this Kamran in. He may have something for us on Starkey.’

‘And if he won’t come voluntarily?’

‘Arrest him on conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.’

‘Will you be back to conduct the interview?’

‘I’ll be there. Tell the custody sergeant to keep it nice and slow and make sure the solicitor doesn’t get there before me.’

The lights were going green as Rick rang off.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

York

Chloe looks at the roll of money in Emma’s hand and looks away. She has to pretend she hasn’t seen it, hasn’t got a whole load of questions queuing up in her head about how Emma got it and what for.

‘No. I don’t know if I’d be able to pay you back.’

She looks at the china set again and Emma puts her money away. Something flickers in the glass, the reflection of a car behind them, slowing right down, close up against the kerb. She stands still, not wanting to turn round, her instincts telling her to keep her face to the window. The car stops and the driver’s door opens.

‘Let’s at least go in and ask,’ Emma offers.

‘Yes.’ Chloe moves quickly, almost pushing Emma through the door and into the shop. She elbows the door shut behind her and grabs a dress off the nearest rail. ‘Can I try this on?’

A middle-aged woman behind the till waves them towards a changing cubicle at the back of the shop, barely looking up from her knitting. ‘Help yourself.’

‘Chlo? What you doing?’ Emma has followed her. ‘That’s never going to fit you. It’s massive.’

‘Sh.’

She grabs Emma and pulls her into the cubicle as the door of the shop opens and a bell tingles.

‘What?’ Emma whispers but Chloe shakes her head.

‘How may I help you?’ This time it sounds like the woman has looked up.

‘I’m looking for my girlfriend. I think she came in here.’

‘Oh, really?’ The lady is helpful, chirpy almost. ‘Just a minute, I’ll have a look.’ She’s walking towards the back of the shop, they can hear her humming under her breath. She turns and hums her way back. ‘No, I’m sorry, there’s nobody here. Perhaps she went next door? Cats Protection have more clothes in stock for young people at the moment.’

There’s a pause and the door slams shut with a jangle of the old-fashioned bell.

‘Some people have no manners,’ the woman says, loud enough for it to be meant for them to hear.

Chloe lets go of the breath she was holding.

‘Now what?’ Emma says.

‘Are you girls all right?’ the woman calls to them.

They step out of the changing cubicle. Beyond the rails of musty clothes, the shop is empty and the road outside is clear. Chloe gives the woman back the dress.

‘Have you got a back door?’ Chloe says.

‘Is that man troubling you?’ The woman sounds like a social worker type. ‘It’s none of my business, of course. But we do have a closed-circuit television camera. You need to tell the police if someone’s harassing you.’

‘Who is he?’ Emma asks. She looks first out of the window and then round the shop, as if she needs to double-check they’re alone.

‘I think you know,’ says Chloe.

‘What d’you mean?’ Emma shoves her hands in her pockets and turns away.

‘Like I said,’ the woman says, ‘I can save the tape. Do you want me to call the police?’

‘They won’t do anything,’ Chloe walks towards the door.

It sticks for a moment as she pulls it and the bell jangles above her head. Outside, the car has gone. Emma follows her out to the hot pavement. He was here, and sooner or later he’ll show himself again. Chloe thinks back and realises that she’s been seeing that car, seeing him, everywhere. Like a ghost, she thought she was imagining him. From the first night at Meredith House, that was the car on the kerb and he was the waiting driver. He can’t have known, then, how close he’d got to her, so when did he realise? After she went to the Chasebridge estate? Did he follow Taheera’s car all the way back to York? On the dusty road by the cooling towers she thought she saw the tail end of a car following the skip lorry, and after that? Did he get to Meredith House and find Emma before she and Taheera got back or had they already met? Whatever has gone before, she understands that he’s never going to let her disappear. Very well. Let him find her. Let him finish it.