Alex thought for a moment. “He doesn’t know much,” she said. “All he told me was that Morgan texted him and asked him for help on a job at the old hangar. Morgan was probably into all sorts of dodgy things Michael didn’t know about. Michael said he drove out there and saw something he shouldn’t have. Since then he’s been on the run. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s scared. Can’t you see?”
“Maybe that’s the case,” said Annie. “But we still have to talk to him. We don’t know that he hasn’t done anything wrong. A lot’s been going on, Alex, and we need explanations. Surely you must see that?”
“But I don’t know where he is! Can’t you believe me?” She held out her finger. “Do you see that?”
Annie nodded.
“I didn’t trap it in the door. A man came by last night. He pretended to be police. He even had an identity card, though I didn’t get a good look at it. He wanted to know where Michael is. He threatened me. Me and Ian. I shouldn’t even be talking to you now. He’s probably watching me. He’ll kill us. Both of us.”
Annie leaned forward and put her hand on Alex’s shoulder. “Calm down,” she said. “Nobody’s going to kill anyone. You did the right thing, phoning me. I can help.”
“But he said he’d hurt Ian. He broke my finger and he said he’d hurt Ian. I didn’t tell him anything because I don’t know anything, but he still believes I do. Why won’t you believe me?”
“I do believe you,” said Annie. “And we won’t let him hurt anyone. Can you at least give me a description?”
“As if I’d forget,” said Alex, and proceeded to describe her unwanted visitor to Annie.
“If I introduce you to a police sketch artist,” she said, “do you think you could help him work on a likeness?” There were computer programs far more complex and accurate than the old Identikit format now, but Annie still believed that an artist was the best chance of getting a reasonable likeness. She was willing to admit that it was a prejudice that came out of her background and her own interest in art, but it had always worked for her.
“I think so,” Alex said. “But I have to go to work tomorrow.”
Annie looked at her watch. It was too late to bring in the sketch artist tonight. “Don’t worry. We’ll work something out with your employers. We can be flexible. It’s important.”
“He gave me a phone number.” Alex took the card out of her purse. “He said it would be untraceable, but I suppose you can try. You know about these things. Can you really find him?”
“We can do our best,” said Annie, far more interested in any fingerprints that might be on the card than tracing what was more likely than not a pay-as-you-go mobile number. “Did anyone else touch this?” she asked.
Alex shook her head. “Just me. When he handed it to me. Then I put it away.”
“So he handled it?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“He wasn’t wearing gloves or anything?”
“No.”
“OK. That was stupid of him. Helpful to us, though.”
“I think he believed he’d scared me so much I wouldn’t dare talk to you. He was almost right, too.”
Annie patted her arm. “But you did, though, didn’t you? Talk to me. Have you got an envelope? Just an ordinary envelope will do.”
Alex fetched her a white envelope from the sideboard drawer. Annie popped the card inside and wrote on the front, then slipped it in her briefcase.
“Did he have any kind of accent?”
“I thought I could hear a bit of Geordie in the way he talked.”
“Was it strong?”
“No, but I think it was just there, in the background like. He just sounded ordinary. Not broad Yorkshire, not posh or anything, either, but just a touch of Geordie.”
“Well, there’s plenty of that around these parts,” Annie said. She picked up her wine, leaned back and said, “Tell me what you think’s going on.”
“Me?”
“Yes. You must have some ideas.”
“All I know is that Michael has gone and that he’s scared. He saw it on the news, about the crash at Belderfell Pass.”
“Really? What did he say about it? Why did he mention it? Can you try to remember everything he said?” Annie put the wine down and took out her notebook.
Alex did her best to recount the conversation she had had only an hour or so ago. “He said someone on the news was saying something about another body being found. Or parts of one.” She shuddered. “Among the animals pieces, like. He said he thought what happened at the hangar and the crash in the valley were connected somehow.”
“That’s interesting. Did he say why?”
“No. I asked him, but he couldn’t say. I don’t know if he even knew. It’s not every day you find a body around here, though, is it? Especially somewhere like that, and mixed in with dead animals. Is it true?”
Annie remembered the scene—the glistening intestines of animals burst out of black bin liners, the human body cut in half longways, the dreadful smell—and shivered. It was something that would blight her dreams for a while. And it wasn’t information she was going to pass on to Alex Preston. But why would Michael Lane assume that the body parts mixed with the fallen stock in a Vaughn’s ABP van should belong to Morgan Spencer? Did either of them have a connection with Vaughn’s, with Caleb Ross? She made a note. “Did Michael give any explanation for assuming these rumors were about Morgan Spencer’s body?”
“No. He never even really said that. Just that it was all connected.”
“Connected how?”
“He didn’t say.”
“We think Morgan was killed at the hangar, Alex.”
“Michael would never do—”
“I’m not saying he did, but you have to understand that until we find him and talk to him, he’s still a suspect. Thinking about what you’ve just told me, I’m guessing that Michael may have witnessed Morgan’s murder, and then he drove off in a hurry. Whoever did it knows he was there, knows who he is and where he lives. That’s why that man came here last night asking about him. He could easily have been the man who killed Morgan.”
Alex paled. “Here, in my home? With Ian in bed? But how could they know who I am, where I live? These people? These killers? How could someone like that know about Michael’s life?”
That was a question Annie had discussed earlier with Banks. She had a few possible answers of her own, but none that Alex would like.
But Alex wasn’t stupid. “You’re saying that he worked for them, aren’t you? That he did criminal jobs for them with Morgan. You’re saying Michael was involved.”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” said Annie. “What I would say is that it’s possible that Michael might have been about to get involved. On the fringes, perhaps, on the threshold. You say he wanted a new camera—”
“He wouldn’t do that. Not Michael. You just don’t understand. You don’t know him.”
“No, I don’t,” Annie said softly. “And that’s what I’m depending on you for. But there’s no point arguing. This won’t be settled until we find him and talk to him ourselves.”
“You’ll put him in jail.”
“Don’t be silly, Alex. Why would we do that? I think it’s time you realized that he stands a far better chance with us than he does with whoever’s after him. People who would break a woman’s finger and threaten her child. What do you think they’ll do to Michael if they find him?”