Rik fired up the Nissan, waited for the Astra to go out of sight, then set off without lights up to the junction and turned left, when he flicked on his sidelights and saw the Astra was now well ahead of them on the otherwise quiet road.
Henry sat up, flicking his fingers at Rik in a ‘Gimme’ gesture and said, ‘PR, please.’ Rik handed the radio across, which was still tuned into Northern division’s channel.
‘Superintendent Christie to PC Driver at Poulton, receiving?’
There was a pause. The brake lights flashed on the Astra for a split second. Then, ‘Receiving.’
‘I’m at Poulton awaiting your arrival with the DI. Do you have a current location and ETA?’
Again a pause. ‘Amounderness Way, Fleetwood. ETA, five minutes.’
‘Roger that.’
‘Can you tell me what it’s about boss?’ Driver asked.
‘Nothing to worry about,’ Henry assured him. Then he said, ‘Superintendent Christie to the Poulton section mobile currently driving the plain Astra on Garstang Road towards Poulton, give me a call.’
This time the pause stretched to complete silence, but the Astra sped up noticeably. Henry repeated the message and added, ‘Please pull in, I want to talk to you.’
Rik had responded to the Astra’s turn of speed with a mirrored surge from the Nissan which, worryingly, left a dirty black cloud of exhaust fumes behind. The Astra did not stop.
Henry said into the PR, ‘Please pull in now. We are behind you.’
Still no response, so Henry called up Lancaster comms who had obviously been listening. ‘Detective Superintendent Christie to Lancaster, please ask the patrol in the Poulton Astra to pull in now. I need a word.’
Comms relayed the message again and got no response. The operator asked Henry, ‘Are you certain it’s a Poulton section vehicle, sir?’ It was a question posed with great delicacy. Just for a moment, Henry had a wave of self-doubt. Was he making an arse of himself here? Was this the same car he’d seen at the scene of Natalie’s murder, the one used by the PC who had found her? Or had he got it completely wrong?
‘Yes, I’m certain. It’s an Astra, registered number…’ Henry reeled off the number of the car.
‘Roger that,’ the operator said.
‘Tell him to pull in again, please. We are behind him and I’m getting cross now.’
Rik flashed the headlights and the Astra then indicated and slowed down. Rik came right up behind it as it stopped. Henry jumped out and told Rik, ‘You stay in here until he gets out.’
‘Henry,’ Rik whined, ‘don’t you think you’re overdoing this?’
‘At the very least he deserves a bollocking,’ Henry shot back, and walked quickly to the passenger door of the Astra, which he yanked open. A spurt of relief shot through him when he saw it was PC Driver behind the wheel.
‘Boss,’ he said.
‘Get out, let’s have a chat. Switch off the engine.’
Driver blew out his cheeks, killed the motor, climbed out and trudged slowly around to Henry on the footpath, ready for a super’s bollocking.
‘You lied,’ Henry said.
‘Uh, yes, sorry boss.’
Henry saw he was dressed in uniform trousers, boots and shirt. His epaulettes were missing, as was his tie. He was breathing heavily and his armpits were wet with sweat.
‘What were you up to?’
Driver looked around for inspiration, then admitted, ‘Just popped in to see a girlfriend.’ He sighed with defeat. ‘Sorry.’
Henry nodded.
Rik climbed out of the Nissan and came around to them. ‘Henry, a word.’ He beckoned him to one side.
Henry said to Driver, ‘Stay there.’ To Rik he said, ‘What is it?’
‘Blackpool comms have just been on. A patrol’s attending the report of a young woman who hasn’t returned home from an evening out. I think we should leave this, and go and have a look-see. Could be connected with why we’re out here tonight. Just rollock him and have done, eh?’
‘OK, OK,’ Henry said and walked back to Driver.
The PC blurted, ‘Look boss, I’m sorry. I know I sneaked off my patch, but it’s not the crime of the century, is it?’
Henry gave him one of his hard, boss-like stares. ‘Take this as a warning.’ He jabbed his finger at Driver. ‘But I’ll be having a word with your sergeant.’ He spun regally away on his heels and took a step towards the Nissan, when he heard a dull knocking noise that didn’t make any sense to him. He stopped and also heard a sort of murmuring sound, and then another dull knock.
Rik was leaning on the open driver’s door of the Nissan.
‘You hear that?’ Henry said.
Rik shrugged. ‘What?’
Another knock.
‘There — again.’ Henry turned slowly back to Driver, who was watching him, a look of horror on his face. A tapping noise. Henry listened, his head tilted, and then he said to Driver, ‘Open the hatchback, please.’
‘Why?’
‘Open the fucking hatchback.’
Driver came slowly to the back of the car; Henry stood next to him.
‘Like I said, why?’ Driver demanded.
‘Open it.’
‘There’s nothing to see.’
‘Open it,’ Henry growled.
Driver hooked his fingers underneath the lip of the hatchback and released the catch. The hydraulic mechanism slowly lifted it with a hiss, taking up the parcel shelf and exposing the storage area, illuminated by a small light on either side.
Driver did not move then.
Henry looked in, horror-struck. His head flicked up and he locked eyes with Driver, who instantly lurched sideways to run. Henry grabbed out for him, missed and took a handful of fresh air as Driver ducked.
Henry shouted, ‘Get him.’
Driver was fast. Two strides and he was across the footpath, leaping over a low wire fence on to the playing field beyond.
Henry charged after him, clearing the fence cleanly, but with the agility of a dray horse. He landed heavily, slightly skew-whiff, but powered on, keeping his balance.
Rik was right behind, ready to support Henry with his actions, even if he didn’t quite know what was happening.
Driver ran, zigzagging across the close-cropped field, towards the utter darkness at the far side. Henry knew if Driver made it ahead of him, there was a good chance he would disappear into the night.
He couldn’t have that. He upped his speed, focused and gained on Driver, who was only a few feet ahead when Henry — digging out something from his old rugby days — hurled himself at the fleeing man. For a brief moment — in mid air — he thought he’d misjudged distance and speed, but his outstretched right hand latched on to Driver’s belt, his fingers tightened into a fist and Henry hauled the man down to his knees. Keeping up the momentum, Henry scrambled on to him, flattening him face down and kneeling hard between his shoulder blades.
Rik arrived, still unsure of what was happening. Gasping, Henry held out his hand and wriggled his fingers. ‘Cuffs,’ he said.
Henry and Rik dragged Driver back across the field. He struggled ineffectively between the two detectives, who then pulled him over the fence and forced him into the back of the CID car. They then returned to Driver’s vehicle, the hatchback of which was still raised.
The girl inside was gagged and bound, feet and ankles taped together, duct tape across her eyes and mouth. Even so, Henry recognized her as the girl they had seen earlier, walking quickly, and alone, through the streets.
‘I want you to be honest with me,’ Karl Donaldson said.
‘All right — I do not appreciate you calling me at this time of day.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t keep you long.’
‘How the hell did you get my number anyway?’
‘You gave it to me once — when we were friends, remember?’
‘Only vaguely,’ Martin Beckham said with annoyance. Donaldson had woken the man up with the late night call, but at that moment he didn’t give a damn.
Donaldson was still at his desk in his office. He had the phone on speaker and was leaning back in his big comfortable leather chair, hands clasped behind his head, ankles crossed on the edge of the desk.