‘Fair enough,’ Patterson said. ‘Can we just go back to where I came in? You were telling Alvin these sessions all came from different computers? Is there any way to find out where those computers are?’
Gary shrugged, then laced his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. ‘Theoretically, but there’s no guarantee. There’s websites that hold the details of individual computers’ IDs. But machines change hands.’ He pulled the corners of his mouth down like a sad clown. ‘Still, there’s a fair chance you can track down some of them.’
‘At least that way we might get some idea of where this bastard’s based,’ Patterson said. ‘That also needs to be a priority for us now. Can you deal with that as well as analysing the computer? Or do we need to bring in some support?’
If Gary had been a dog, the ruff of hair at the back of his neck would have been standing erect. ‘I can manage,’ he said. ‘While the programs are running on Jennifer’s machine, I can start looking up the computer IDs.’
Patterson stood up. ‘Fine. But if it’s taking too long, we’ll get you some help on the donkey work.’
Gary glowered at him. ‘None of this is donkey work.’
Patterson managed not to roll his eyes. ‘No, of course not. Sorry, Gary. No offence.’ He resisted the temptation to pat him on the shoulder as he would with his family’s pet mongrel. He stood up. ‘Alvin, a word?’
Out in the corridor, Patterson leaned against the wall, the lack of progress feeling like a physical weight on his shoulders. ‘This is going bloody nowhere,’ he said. ‘We’ve not got a single witness. She got off the bus but never made it as far as the Co-op. It’s like Jennifer Maidment vanished into thin air somewhere between the bus stop and the shop.’
Alvin’s mouth twisted up in one corner and dropped down again. ‘That’s if she was ever going to the Co-op.’
‘What do you mean? According to you, Claire Darsie said Jennifer was going to the Co-op to buy chocolate for her dad’s cake. She saw her walking in that direction. Jennifer waved to her.’
‘Doesn’t mean she was telling the truth,’ Ambrose said, his face impassive. ‘Just because she started off walking that way doesn’t mean she kept on going. Claire said the whole thing was out of character. So maybe Jennifer had other plans. Plans that had bugger all to do with the Co-op. Or her dad’s cake. Maybe there wasn’t a cake at all.’
‘You think she was meeting somebody?’
Ambrose shrugged. ‘You’ve got to wonder what would be important enough to make a teenage girl lie to her best mate. Generally, that comes down to a lad.’
‘You think she realised the gatecrasher on Rig was a bloke?’
‘I don’t know. I doubt she was that sophisticated. I think she went to learn more about this so-called “secret”.’
Patterson sighed. ‘And until Gary works his magic, we don’t have a bloody clue what that might be.’
‘True. But in the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt to have a chat with Mum and Dad. Find out if there were ever any plans for a cake.’
CHAPTER 5
Daniel Morrison had been indulged from well before the moment he’d been born. It would have been hard to imagine a child more wanted than he had been and neither expense nor consideration had been spared in the effort to make his life the very best it could be. During her pregnancy, his mother Jessica had forsworn not only alcohol and saturated fat but also hairspray, dry cleaning, deodorant and insect repellent. Everything that had ever been accused of being potentially carcinogenic had been banned from Jessica’s environment. If Mike came home from the pub smelling of cigarette smoke, he had to strip off in the utility room then shower before he could come near his pregnant wife.
When Daniel emerged from his elective caesarian section with a perfect Apgar score, Jessica felt justified in every preventative step she’d taken. She didn’t hesitate to share that belief with anyone who would listen and quite a few who wouldn’t.
The drive to perfection didn’t end there. Daniel’s every stage of development was accompanied by the age-appropriate educational toys and other forms of stimulus. By four, he was enrolled in the best private prep school in Bradfield, encased in grey flannel shorts, shirt and tie, maroon blazer and a cap that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the 1950s.
And so it continued. Designer clothes and fashionable hair-cuts; Chamonix in the winter, Chiantishire in the summer; cricket whites and rugby jerseys; Cirque du Soleil, classical concerts and theatre. Whatever Jessica thought Daniel needed, Daniel had. Another man might have put the brakes on. But Mike loved his wife - his son too, obviously, but not the way he adored Jessica - and so he chose the route that made her happiest. As she indulged Daniel, so he indulged her. He’d been lucky enough to get in on the ground floor of the mobile phone business back in the early nineties. There had been times when it had felt like the legendary licence to print money. That Jessica knew how to spend it had therefore never been an issue.
What was slowly beginning to dawn on Mike Morrison was that his fourteen-year-old son was not a very nice person. In recent months, it had become clear that Daniel was no longer happy to accept whatever Jessica decided was best for him. He was developing his own ideas about what he wanted, and the sense of entitlement that Jessica had bred into him meant he wasn’t happy to settle for anything less than the prompt and total fulfilment of his desires. There had been some spectacular arguments, most of which had ended with Jessica in tears and Daniel in voluntary exile in his suite of rooms, sometimes refusing to emerge for days at a time.
It wasn’t the arguments that bothered Mike, in spite of Jessica’s frustration and anger. He recalled similar rows in his own teens as he’d tried to assert himself in the teeth of parental opposition. What made him anxious was a suspicion that was hardening to a certainty that he didn’t have a clue what was going on in his son’s head.
He remembered being fourteen. His concerns had been pretty simple. Football, both watching and playing; girls, both real and imagined; the relative merits of Cream and Blind Faith; and how long it would be before he could wangle himself into a party where there was alcohol and dope. He hadn’t been a goody two-shoes and he’d been convinced that his own drift away from his parents’ expectations would help forge a connection when Daniel hit adolescence.
He couldn’t have been more wrong. Daniel’s response to Mike’s attempts at bonding by sharing had been a shrug, a sneer and a complete refusal to engage. After one too many rebuffs, Mike had reluctantly accepted that he had no idea what was going on inside his son’s head or his life. Daniel’s dreams and desires, his fears and his fantasies, his passions and his proclivities were unfathomable to his father.
Mike could only guess at what occupied his son during the long hours they were out of each other’s presence. And because he didn’t like what his imagination conjured for him, he’d chosen to try not to think about it at all. He guessed that was entirely fine by Daniel.
He couldn’t have guessed that it was also just fine by his killer.
Some meetings were better held outside the workplace. Carol had always known it by instinct; Tony had provided her with a rational explanation. ‘Take people off their territory and it blurs hierarchies. They’re slightly off-balance but they’re also trying to show off, to make their mark. It makes them more creative, more innovative. And that’s essential in any unit where you want to keep ahead of the game. Keeping things fresh and inventive is one of the hardest things to achieve, especially in hierarchical organisations like the police.’
In a team like theirs, staying ahead of the curve was even more crucial. As James Blake had so pointedly reminded her, elite units were invariably under closer scrutiny than routine departments. Developing new initiatives that proved effective was one straightforward way to disarm their critics. Now the pressure was heavier than ever, but Carol trusted her crew to fight for their roles as hard as she would herself. Which was why she was taking orders for drinks in the private karaoke room of her favourite Thai restaurant.