Carol looked at Tony. ‘A woman? You never said anything about a woman.’
He spread his hands, as mystified as she was. On the screen, Ewan had moved forward and was leaning into the open passenger window of the car.
Johnny spoke again. ‘She’s saying something about BB’s quad bike being broken . . . She’s BB’s mum, come to pick him up . . .’
‘He’s getting in,’ Carol said. ‘Phase two, Johnny, tell them.’
‘Dark-coloured Volvo estate heading in Manchester direction from village. First letters of the reg are MM07. Can’t get the rest yet. Walkers, to the van.’
And they were back on the road. Being stuck so far back was frustrating, but Johnny gave them regular updates. ‘Heading steady towards Manc . . . Tango lima two behind . . . Motorbike coming up in rear, overtaking tango lima two, making it look dodgy . . . Motorbike in front now. Definitely a woman driving . . . the lad’s drinking something out of a can . . . Junction coming up . . . Bike’s gone straight on, Volvo’s turned left without signalling. Tango lima two going right, tango lima three picking up . . . We’re skirting the city, heading south . . . Bike’s back in behind tango lima three.’
‘It looks like we’re going to Davy’s farm,’ Carol said. ‘Where he’s not supposed to have been since a week past Friday.’
‘Maybe the girlfriend’s a better liar than Ambrose realised,’ Tony said. ‘Presuming that’s who’s driving.’
‘Tell tango lima two to overtake. He can lead us past Davy’s farm and wait on the far side. Tango lima four to be in pole follow,’ Carol ordered.
In twenty minutes, they were sure of the destination. The single-track road they were travelling on led to DPS’s head-quarters and not much else. ‘I need tango lima three and the bike to hang back. Remember, Ambrose said the entire perimeter was camera covered. We want to stay out of range for now. Tango lima four to carry on past, join up with two a mile past the farm.’
They pulled up behind the motorbike as Johnny said, ‘The Volvo’s turned in to the gate . . . Tango lima three’s out of range of their cameras he thinks. He’s out of his vehicle, on the roof . . . He’s got his binocs out. He can see the Volvo pulling up right by the farmhouse . . . The woman’s out . . . Passenger door open, he thinks . . . Farmhouse door open. He can’t see anyone, she must be dragging the kid inside . . . The woman’s back outside, closing the passenger door, back in the car, moving it across the yard, blocking a barn door . . . She’s walking back to the house . . . Inside. Door shut.’ Johnny looked at Carol. ‘Abductions R Us, I’d say.’
Carol opened the back door of the van and dropped to the ground, followed by Tony. ‘All we’ve got is abduction,’ she said. ‘We don’t know whether Warren’s in there or if he’s on his way.’
‘He could have been there when Ambrose visited,’ Tony said. ‘He didn’t search the place, did he?’
‘No. And there was no point in putting the place under surveillance. With their security, we couldn’t get close enough without being spotted. And there’s miles of moor behind them. Someone who knew the terrain could easily come in under cover of darkness.’ The more she spoke, the more unprepared Carol felt. ‘But we do know he was in Bradfield yesterday morning because he sent Ambrose that email from the library.’
‘You’ve got to go in, Carol. We know this killer doesn’t hang about. The boy’s already unconscious. If Warren is in there, he’ll be wrapping his head in polythene right now. You can’t afford to let this boy die. You won’t forgive yourself. And Paula will probably kill you,’ he added, not an atom of levity in his tone.
She nodded. ‘You’re right.’ She leaned back in the van and shouted, ‘Wagons roll, Johnny. Everybody to the gate now.’ She jumped back into the nondescript white van, giving Tony a hand up. They pulled out ahead of the car and bike and made it to the gate first. Carol climbed out and went to the intercom. ‘Police. Open up,’ she shouted. ‘I’m going to count to three . . . One . . . two . . .’ The heavy gates slowly began to swing open. Carol jogged up the margin of the drive. The van, followed by the rest of the vehicles, drove slowly alongside her.
They abandoned their vehicles in the yard and swarmed towards the farmhouse. Carol led the way, throwing the door back. She stopped on the threshold, taking it all in. Ewan McAlpine lay on a plastic sheet in the middle of the tiled floor, unconscious but still breathing. On the table was a heavy-duty transparent polythene sack, a roll of packing tape and a scalpel. Head in her hands, a woman was sitting at the table, sobbing convulsively. ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ she wailed. ‘So, so sorry.’
CHAPTER 40
Tony and Carol were both totally focused on the scene being played out on the other side of the two-way mirror. It had taken a while to get back from the DPS farm to Bradfield Police HQ. First they’d had to wait for the ambulance and the paramedics to confirm that Ewan McAlpine was well enough to be moved to Bradfield Cross under police guard. Then they’d had to wait for Diane Patrick’s hysterics to subside. Once they’d booked her into custody, she recovered herself enough to ask for a solicitor. All of this had given Carol and Tony time to plan the interview.
‘I think you should let Paula lead off,’ Tony had said without waiting to be asked.
‘It should be me, I’m the SIO. It gives status to the interview. Which unsettles people whether they’re innocent or guilty as hell.’ Carol opened her office door and shouted, ‘Someone, anyone . . . We need coffee in here.’
Tony started pacing. ‘It’s precisely because you’re the SIO that you should back off. Diane Patrick has clearly played a role in these crimes. She may have been coerced. But she may have been an active participant. If she was, then she’s going to be pissed off at not being taken seriously enough to be interviewed by the boss. And pissed off is good. You know that. We like them pissed off. It makes them more likely to lose at least some of the plot.’
‘Believe me, I can find other ways to piss her off,’ Carol said.
‘And if she’s been coerced, she’ll be much more likely to respond to someone she doesn’t see as a threat. In other words, a junior officer. It’s a win-win, letting Paula take first crack at her. I’m not saying you won’t get your turn. But let Paula go first.’
‘Will you sit down? You’re making me crazy, storming up and down in this tiny space,’ Carol fumed.
He dropped into the nearest chair. ‘It helps me think.’
A knock on the door. ‘Coffee,’ Kevin said.
Carol opened the door, took the two mugs from him and used her hip to close it behind her. ‘I’ll put the earpiece in. You can keep me on track.’
‘You know there’s nobody better at this than Paula.’ He knew he was playing with fire, but it had to be said.
‘Are you saying she’s a better interviewer than me?’ She thrust the coffee at him. He thought she was inches away from having thrown it. He’d seldom seen her this wound up over an arrest. He assumed it was because Warren Davy was still out there in the wind.
‘This isn’t a pissing contest, and you know it,’ he said. ‘You’ve got no grounds for doubting your professional capability. Your leadership of this team made this result possible. It works because you let them do what they’re good at, even when it’s part of your skill set.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she said, brows drawn down in a mulish stare.
‘Take Sam,’ he said. ‘You know he’s a maverick. You know he doesn’t like to share because he thinks he can do whatever it is better than anyone else. He’ll stab people in the back if he thinks it will further his career, but only when it doesn’t jeopardise the investigation. A lot of SIOs would have canned Sam because he’s not a team player. But you keep him close. You let him play to his strengths.’ He paused, an ‘am I right?’ expression on his face.