He told Rik and Bill Robbins, who was still in the canteen, to hang fire, then he went down to the CID office to see how Alex Bent was faring with Mark Carter. Bent was standing at his desk, placing some paperwork on it, having just come back up from the custody suite. Henry asked him how it had gone.
He answered thoughtfully. ‘OK. I’ve got the robbery stuff out of the way. He’s having the Goth and the girl, no problems, and the attempt on the old man. And the shed break. Says he dumped the bike behind those shops near where Katie Bretherton lives. He’s been fingerprinted, photographed and DNA’d, now he’s just having some scran. A social worker’s been with him, but he’s gone out for some food, too. Told him to come back in an hour.’
‘How is Mark?’
‘Not good.’
‘I need to get back to the mortuary, so if you can carry on with Mark, that’d be good. I take it you’re getting on reasonably well with him?’ Bent nodded. ‘In that case, get a witness statement starting from the point where the old man gets hit by the car and up to the present, if you can. Include as much as you can.’
‘I might not have time to get everything in it tonight. It’ll be a long one — and the e-fit guy is here, too.’
‘Do what you can, Alex. I’ll pop down and see him on my way out.’
Mark had only ever been in a cell once in his life before, other than the one at Preston. That had been at Blackpool nick, too, and as he looked around the one he’d been placed in, he realized this was the same one. That was when he’d been locked up for shoplifting, the time when he’d gone off the rails following the death of his sister and he’d ended up running with a bad crew then. A bit like now, he thought as he looked at the sickly cream-flecked walls with obscenities carved into them along with names such as ‘Kev’, ‘Rocky’ and ‘Moose ere 12/4’. Mark knew Moose, a bit of a no-brainer from Shoreside. Big, dumb and harmless, unless you laughed at him. Then he punched your lights out with frightening efficiency.
The key rattled in the door, which then creaked open. Henry Christie stood there. Mark said nothing, couldn’t even be bothered to sneer at him any more. He was too tired.
‘How’re you doing?’
‘Great.’
‘I thought I’d tell you what happens now.’
‘Not interested, Henry. I’ll go with the flow. Big picture is that I’m going to end up in institutions until I’m eighteen — that’s if I live long enough.’
‘We’ll discuss protection later. I just wanted to know how you were, that’s all.’
Mark raised his chin and looked squarely at the detective. ‘As if you give a shit.’
What stung Henry was that Mark was probably right. When he had met the lad before to investigate his sister’s death, Henry had seen a good chance to use Mark to nail a big time drug dealer nicknamed the Crackman. He had played on Mark’s vulnerability to get him in a position from where he could feed Henry information that would lead to the mystery dealer, and, in a skewed way, it had been a successful job. But along the way Henry had made some promises to Mark that he didn’t keep, and that was partly why Mark had veered off the path and been drawn into Rory Costain’s feral lifestyle.
But, like most cops, Henry shrugged off most of the guilt. There was only so much that could be done for people and, at the end of the day — a phrase Henry hated — he wasn’t Mark’s keeper. His mother was, and she’d failed. His big brother had a part to play, too — and he’d failed. Problem was, Mandy was all Mark had and now she was gone, so Mark’s future, particularly the next two years, looked very shaky indeed.
Henry’s reassurances wafted over Mark’s head. It was obvious he didn’t believe a single word that came out of the detective’s mouth. ‘We’ll look after you.’ ‘We’ll sort you out.’ ‘You’ve nothing to worry about.’ ‘Honest.’
Bollocks.
Even Henry didn’t believe himself.
All he really wanted from Mark was a statement and a good description of the murderer, then hopefully, if things got that far, for Mark to pick the guy out of a line-up. And then give evidence at court. If it got that far. A lot of ‘ifs’, the main one being ‘if’ an arrest was made. But the bottom line was that Mark was the main witness so far and he was expected to make a statement that would put his life in greater danger than it already was. On top of that he had to deal with his mother’s murder, probably at the hands of the same person who had killed Rory and the old man. Not forgetting Billy Costain.
And Mark was sixteen. He was afraid, even if he didn’t show it. He had no familial support. He did not trust the cops because they’d shafted him once before, and he was a troubled teenager with all the usual hormonal issues to deal with.
It was a very big ask for a very young boy. And, in truth, Henry wasn’t completely sure how to deal with it. So after getting a very big flea in his ear from Mark, he made his way across to the mortuary where, it seemed, the bodies were stacking up. As he drove, his hands dithered on the steering wheel.
Karl Donaldson continued to try and log into the files he wanted to inspect without success, each time thinking this would be the occasion he got through. A bit like hitting the side of a TV in the hope that the picture would come back. It never did, of course.
Finally, seething, he picked up his phone again, which spookily, rang as his fingers closed on it.
‘Mr Donaldson, sir, it’s me, Jacintha.’
‘Hi Cinth.’ It was his shared secretary.
‘You asked me to speak to the IT guy about your little difficulty.’ The words ‘little difficulty’ came out and sounded like she was referring to erectile dysfunction or something.
‘Yeah, I’m still struggling,’ he said, as though he did have that condition.
‘Well, the guy I spoke to was really shirty with me and told me it was none of his business.’
‘Why would he say that?’
‘I don’t know. I told him I was making the enquiry on your behalf.’
‘And?’
‘He just said that your access had been denied.’
Donaldson’s whole being missed a beat. ‘What does that mean?’
‘He wouldn’t say.’
‘Access denied?’ Donaldson said, his voice rising. ‘Who can deny me access to files I have a right to see?’
‘Well, most files are password protected,’ Jacintha said.
‘I know that… and there are some I don’t have access to, which I understand. But the ones I want to look at are, or were, available to me. Did the guy say anything else?’
‘I asked him who you should talk to about it. It’s obviously some sort of misunderstanding that needs clearing up.’
‘Yep…’ Donaldson waited.
‘He said you need to speak to Mr Barber.’
Donaldson’s mouth dried up. ‘Don Barber? Why Don Barber?’
‘He didn’t say.’
‘Right, well thanks for that, Cinth. I appreciate what you did. Can you put me through to Don, please?’
‘He’s not here.’
‘What do you mean, not there? You mean he’s gone home for the night?’
‘No, I mean he isn’t here. Hasn’t been in the office for about four days now, sir.’
‘Where is he?’
‘That I don’t know, Mr Donaldson, sir.’
FIFTEEN
‘ Y ou didn’t send your lackey this time?’ Keira O’Connell said. She was scraping back her hair and fixing a dangerous-looking clip into it before fitting her surgical cap.
‘Adetective inspector’s hardly a lackey,’ said Henry, sounding tired. He had enough problems to be going on with and O’Connell’s obvious annoyance at his rejection of her was starting to wear thin. ‘Look, Keira,’ he said reasonably, hoping that his massive male ego hadn’t got things wrong or completely out of proportion. Maybe she was this cross all the time. ‘I’m really flattered.’ Already he knew he sounded patronizing. He wasn’t good at saying no to women, not initially anyway. Only when the guilt kicked in. ‘I’m trying desperately hard to make a go of it with Kate. And as much as the thought of being with a beautiful woman like you is — ’ his throat went gritty here as his thoughts instantly turned to what it would be like rolling around with her — oh, mama — ‘incredible, I just can’t risk anything.’