‘So when your patients put forward some version of their mission that relies on assigning meaning to random events, remember that there is no meaning in coincidence. It happens. Accept it and ignore it.’
His computer beeped, announcing the arrival of a new email. DI Patterson being quick off the mark, he suspected. Tony let himself fall forward in his chair, opening his eyes and groaning. ‘Accept it and ignore it,’ he said out loud.
CHAPTER 10
It took Paula less than thirty seconds to appreciate that the only person in the Northern Division’s CID room who thought it was a good idea to bring MIT into their missing person inquiry was the boss. She’d been told to report to DS Franny Riley in their central squad room for a briefing. When she turned up, the first person she spoke to shrugged and gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. ‘Big bugger over there with the fag.’
Smoking had of course been outlawed in Bradfield Police offices for years. But the beefy detective pointed out to Paula had a cigarette dangling from one corner of his mouth. It was unlit, but the malevolent dark eyes that glanced up at her held the defiant threat of a man who would spark up his lighter at the slightest provocation. He looked like a refugee from the worst days of rugby league, Paula thought as she crossed the room. Busted nose badly repaired, unmatching ears and no neck visible. ‘I’m DC McIntyre,’ she said. ‘Paula McIntyre.’ She held out a hand. Franny Riley hesitated for a moment, then engulfed her hand in his. His grip was strong but his skin surprisingly soft.
‘Franny Riley. I thought you lot were supposed to be the crack squad. Don’t know what the fuck the boss is thinking. Wastes your time, makes us look like fucking imbeciles.’ His scowl deepened. Between the jut of his eyebrows and the flabby pouches under his eyes, Paula wondered how he could see.
‘Let’s hope so.’
He cocked his head, puzzled. ‘You what?’
‘I’d be very happy if this turns out to be a waste of time for both of us when Daniel Morrison turns up safe and sound with a just-fucked look on his face. Wouldn’t you?’ Paula gave him the full-on charm and pulled her cigarette pack from her jacket. ‘So where do we have to go to smoke around here?’
The roof of Bradfield Police’s Northern Division HQ had one of the best views in the city. Built at the top of Colliery Hill, it commanded the surrounding neighbourhoods. On a clear day, you could make out landmark buildings in the city centre, as well as Bradfield Victoria’s distant stadium and the parks that had acted as green lungs since the industrial revolution. To the north, the moors spreadeagled across the horizon, ribbon roads weaving through the gaps between their rounded summits. Somehow, a Perspex bus shelter had found its way on to the roof, protecting smokers from wind and rain and providing them with what was probably the most scenic smoking area in Bradfield.
‘Nice one,’ Paula said, perching on the narrow plastic bench that ran the length of the shelter. ‘Has anyone reported their bus shelter missing yet?’
Riley snorted with laughter. It was a peculiar sound, like a clogged drain when it’s rodded. ‘As if.’ He inhaled deeply, his cigarette an apparent life-support system. ‘The chief super’s terrified of heights, so chances are we’re safe up here. So, what are you after from me, DC McIntyre?’
‘I hoped you could brief me on where you’re up to with Daniel Morrison. That way I can avoid covering the same ground twice.’
He grunted. ‘I thought that was how you elite buggers did it? Start right from the beginning, go over everything that’s already been covered, then claim the credit?’
‘You must be thinking of some other bunch of wankers, Sarge.’ Paula turned to shelter the flame as she lit up her own cigarette. She felt herself relax as the nicotine did its dizzy dance in her brain. She had a knack for getting under the guard of people she was interviewing. She knew it was at the heart of why Carol Jordan valued her so highly, but she tried not to analyse the process too much in case the wheels came off. So now, without thinking too hard about it, she flashed Franny Riley a complicit smile. ‘I reckon you’re on top of this.’
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.’