Blood Line

Chapter Thirteen

Tina Brooks was very subdued. She sat with her head bent down and her hands clasped in her lap. Anna seated herself opposite Hyde, who had moved his chair as far from his client as possible. His legs were crossed beside the table rather than beneath it. In front of him he had his leather-bound notebook open and his pen placed beside it. Paul had the stack of case-files beside him, leaving Anna space to have her notes in front of her. Quietly she cautioned Tina and reminded her that she was under arrest on suspicion of murder.

Hyde coughed, clearing his throat.

‘Let’s begin with clarifying that my client is suspected of murdering someone as yet unidentified. The possibility that the victim was Alan Rawlins, with whom she cohabitated in flat two Newton Court, Hounslow, has as yet not been proven. So there is also the possibility that the victim was in fact killed by Mr Rawlins, who has since absconded after disposing of the body.’

Anna met his cold flinty eyes and nodded.

‘So taking on board this rather confusing scenario, let us now discuss why my client is here.’

Anna looked directly at Tina.

‘Your client, Mr Hyde, is under suspicion of murder. Miss Brooks, could you please describe the last time you saw Alan Rawlins.’

Tina kept her head down as she replied.

‘I got a call at about ten in the morning. Alan said he was feeling ill and that it was probably a migraine. He had driven into work, but I agreed to pick him up and take him back to the flat in case anything happened while he was driving. He said he was really feeling bad and went straight to bed. I closed the curtains, made him a flask of tea and I went into work.’

‘And that was the last time you saw him?’

‘Yes, it was. I did call home later, but I didn’t get an answer so I presumed he was sleeping.’

‘How frequently did Mr Rawlins have these migraines?’

‘Not often, but he had one or two before that I can remember, and he always slept them off.’

‘Taking no medication for them?’

‘Not all the time, no.’

‘What time did you return to the flat?’

‘It was after I finished work – maybe six or quarter to seven.’

Anna flicked through her notebook.

‘Take me through what happened when you got home.’

‘Alan wasn’t there. He had been working a few nights until late so I presumed he must have felt better and gone back to the garage. I rang them, but no one answered. Well, they wouldn’t because he would have been outside where he worked on his own car.’

‘Go on.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘When he didn’t come home, what did you do?’

‘Oh, I see. I went to bed.’

‘In your bedroom?’

‘Yes.’

‘Okay, so what happened the next day?’

‘I went to work and I did phone home again, but there was no reply. I began to think that Alan had left me. He had been very distant with me for a while, non-communicative, and I started to think he had someone else. I rang his work again and they told me he hadn’t turned up there either.’

Anna watched the way Tina was acting, demure and upset. She constantly glanced towards Hyde, never looking at Anna.

‘I really believed he’d left me for another woman. His father phoned wanting to talk to him, and I asked him if he had seen Alan and he said he hadn’t.’

‘You remained alone in your flat?’

‘Yes. It was horrible because I didn’t know what was going on. He had never done this before, but I still thought he had maybe taken off with another woman or gone to Cornwall. He often went there whenever he had spare time.’

‘Without telling you?’

‘Yes.’

‘But also not informing his boss at the garage?’

‘I don’t know – maybe he did tell him. Mr Smedley never mentioned it when I called, but that was sort of why I felt suspicious – you know, that maybe Alan had told him and asked him not to tell me.’

‘How long was it before you became concerned about Alan’s disappearance?’

‘Well, it may sound awful, but not until about a fortnight had elapsed. This was because his father kept on calling me as he expected Alan to make contact as they were going to go to the cinema. Well, that’s what he told me. He then said he was going to report him missing so I agreed and that’s what we did.’

Anna paused, flicking the pages of her notebook back and forth.

‘During all this time you slept in the flat?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was there anyone else sleeping there?’

‘No.’

‘Do you have a cleaner?’

‘No.’

‘So did you change the bedlinen on your bed?’

‘I can’t really remember, but yes, I suppose I did. I usually change the bed every Monday and take the used stuff to the launderette for a service wash.’

‘We have been to the laundry you use and they have no record of you bringing in anything for the period of time when Alan Rawlins was missing. How do you explain that?’

‘I dunno. I said every Monday, but sometimes I’d skip a week or so if we’d been away.’

‘But you weren’t away, so what did you do with the sheets left on the bed when Alan was at home with a migraine?’

‘I can’t remember.’

‘You can’t remember?’

‘I just said so.’

Paul passed over the photographs taken at the scene of crime. They showed the blood pooling, under the floorboards and the removed segment of carpet. Anna handed them across to Tina.

‘As you can see, we discovered dense blood pooling beside your bed.’

Tina stared at the photographs.

Next, Paul produced the print of the staining to the edge of the mattress.

‘This bloodstain was on your mattress.’

Again, Tina just stared at the photograph.

‘We also know that you purchased four large containers of bleach and carpet cleaner, but we found only one container of bleach in your flat. Forensics have ascertained that bleach was used in an attempt to clean up. The blood must have soaked through the original carpet, through the underlay and down onto and under the floorboards.’

Paul got out the forensic shots. Again Tina stared at them, but remained silent. She turned to hand them to her lawyer, but he shook his head, having already been shown them.

‘Do you have anything to say about the findings, Tina?’

‘No.’

Anna nodded to Paul as she explained the use of Luminol in the bathroom and hallway.

‘As you can see, although there had been an attempt to clean the bathroom and the surrounding areas, we were able to uncover further bloodstaining.’

Tina chewed at her lips. Again she turned to her lawyer, almost as if he could give her an explanation, but he said that he was already privy to the photographs.

‘We have, as you know, been unable to identify the blood recovered as that of Alan Rawlins, but it stands to reason that as he has been missing for over nine weeks now it is very possibly his,’ Anna went on. ‘And that he was murdered in the bedroom then carried into the bathroom, due to the amount of bloodstains discovered in both rooms.’

‘I don’t understand any of this,’ Tina said, and placed her hands over the offending photographs.

‘It’s very difficult for us to understand, Tina, especially as you claim that the last time you saw Alan Rawlins was—’

‘I’m telling you the truth!’ Tina burst out. ‘I don’t know anything about this, I really don’t. I am telling you the truth!’

‘But if you changed the bedlinen, you must have been able to see this.’ Anna snatched the photograph of the blood pooling by the bed and slapped it down in front of Tina. ‘You must have known about it! How else did that section of carpet get to be in place over the stain?’

‘I told you – Alan spilled wine, and he must have done it.’

‘When did he do it?’

‘I don’t know, maybe the same day he had a migraine.’

‘Really? And yet Forensics have been unable to discover any wine stain left on the underlay in the living room or the piece of carpet in the bedroom.’

‘Well, I saw him spill wine and he was upset because it was a big stain and he cleaned it up.’

‘You recall the spillage as a reason for the carpet being cut by Alan, correct?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Whether or not there was a stain, the sofa was moved across it. We know that the section cut out was wide and long enough to cover the exact area of the bloodstain beside your bed.’

‘Alan must have done it,’ Tina repeated.

‘When did he do this?’

‘I don’t know exactly.’

‘I think you do know, Tina, because I think you cut that section of carpet and you thought it would not be noticed. You cut the exact size of carpet needed to hide the bloodstain; you then moved the sofa over the missing section in your lounge and returned to—’

‘I DID NOT.’

‘Why did you subsequently order a new roll of carpet, Tina?’

Jonathan Hyde leaned forward, frowning. ‘I was not told about this. What carpet are you now referring to?’

Anna explained that whilst she was at his client’s flat the caretaker had taken possession of a new roll of carpet that Tina had ordered. Tina looked at Hyde rather than Anna as she explained.

‘I’d ordered it weeks ago ’cos I couldn’t clean off the fucking wine and other food and drink stains in the lounge. When the landlord comes round to check before we leave, we gotta have everything as it was when we moved in. He says he’s been done before and wants the flat to be left as we first saw it. I told you this; I said all this to you! We had to leave a big deposit.’

Paul passed Anna a receipt in a plastic cover.

‘This is a receipt from Wall-to-Wall, a carpet warehouse. As you can see, the order was placed after Alan Rawlins disappeared.’ Anna pushed it across the table to Hyde.

Tina didn’t even glance at it, but continued, ‘I wanted it done because I’m not plannin’ on staying. That place has got too many bad memories for me.’

‘Are these the bad memories, Tina, the bloodsoaked carpet?’

‘No, I didn’t mean them! I meant because of Alan leaving.’

Anna gathered the photographs up as Hyde carefully checked the receipt and the agreed delivery date. He passed it back to Paul, making a note in his notebook.

Paul looked to Anna, who leaned over and whispered to him. He opened another file and took out a report.

‘We discovered further forensic evidence from the sheet and pillowcase on your bed, Tina. We have semen stains that don’t match the blood DNA, and hair that is not Alan’s as it’s seven inches long. From recent photographs of Mr Rawlins we can see that his hair is cut short. Can you explain how this evidence came to be there?’

‘No, I can’t.’

‘You have claimed today that you and only you stayed at the flat – no one else – but this is a lie. You are lying, aren’t you, Tina?’

‘I am telling you the truth.’ She turned to Hyde and tapped his arm. ‘For fuck’s sake, why don’t you say something and stop all this because I am telling the truth. I never had nobody sleeping with me. I was there on me own.’ Her accent was slipping more towards cockney as she grew increasingly upset.

‘Miss Brooks, the officers are required to put the evidence in their case to you, and you do not have to answer unless you want to. I assure you I am more than aware of Detective Travis’s accusations, but this is your opportunity to tell them your version of events . . .’

‘It’s the truth! I mean, I never hurt Alan and she’s been telling me that he had this other life – right? Or was that you trying to make me implicate myself?’

Anna pursed her lips, saying, ‘We have uncovered records of substantial amounts of money that Alan had acquired, also a property in Cornwal—’

Tina interrupted her again. ‘I don’t know nothing about any money or what you said about him being a queer. I’ve been telling you the honest-to-God truth.’

‘Then please explain to me, if you still insist that you and you alone slept in your flat after Alan’s disappearance, why we have evidence that indicates another man was in your bed.’

‘One moment.’ Hyde tapped the table with his fountain pen. ‘You have as yet been unable to identify whose blood was discovered beside the bed or who left the evidence found on the bedlinen, correct?’

‘Yes, that is correct. We have been unable to acquire DNA from Alan Rawlins for a direct comparison.’

‘Then surely it is possible that the evidence uncovered from the bedside plus whatever DNA has been found on the bedlinen, could well belong to someone other than Alan Rawlins?’

‘That is possible,’ Anna said curtly.

‘Then isn’t it also possible that Alan Rawlins not only murdered someone else, but changed all the bedlinen and cleaned the flat? He would have had the entire day whilst my client was at work.’

‘YES!’ Tina half-rose from her chair.

‘Please remain seated, Miss Brooks.’

Tina sat back in her chair with a smug look on her face. She jabbed the air with her finger.

‘He could have removed the carpet, he could have shoved the bed over the bloodstain. I wasn’t thinking when I got back from the salon that we’d got different bedding on – right? That fucking semen stain you say you got could be his, right? Well, am I right?’

‘Just stay quiet, please, Miss Brooks,’ Hyde said coolly.

‘But that makes sense, don’t it? And it’s just coincidence that I ordered the new roll of carpet. I’ve been telling the fucking truth since I’ve come here.’

Jonathan Hyde closed his notebook, pocketed his pen and gave half a smile.

‘I think, Detective Travis, that until you are able to identify who the victim is, you really have no option but to release my client.’

Anna knew she was cornered and said that Tina should remain available as they might well need to question her again.

‘Is that it, then?’ Tina said, smiling.

‘Just one more thing. You have denied knowing Michael Phillips?’

Hyde looked up enquiringly.

‘Miss Brooks’s neighbour,’ Anna explained. ‘Do you still maintain that you do not know him?’

‘I didn’t, but I do now. I met him coming in one night recently and I was so upset. I wanted some change of clothes, remember I asked you for permission. He was going into his flat and I was trying to get my key out to go into my place. He asked if I was all right and I just broke down crying. He was ever so nice. He asked me in for a brandy and since then we’ve become friendlier. We exchanged numbers and he said if I needed anything, to call him.’

‘When did you last call him?’

‘From the pub before you arrested me.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘All the stress this is causing me. He was like I just said, very kind, and if you want the honest truth, I fancied him. I need someone, for God’s sake!’

It was a depressed Anna who released Tina and then returned to the incident room to give the team the update. Thanks to Langton’s belief that the evidence from the flat strongly implicated Tina, she had gone along with his request to put pressure on the woman, but all along she had known they were skating on thin ice.

Brian Stanley still had no confirmation that Tina and Michael Phillips had been in close contact for longer than she or he had admitted. At the briefing, Anna stressed the importance of identifying the victim and the semen from the bedlinen. She only now gave them the information that the hair was not going to be significant. Liz Hawley had informed them that Sammy Marsh’s DNA had been taken on a mouth swab when he was arrested for drugs offences a number of years ago but, for reasons she was still trying to discover, it did not appear to have been uploaded onto the national database. Sammy was still only a tentative link to Alan Rawlins, and without any evidence it was also possible it was nothing more than a coincidence.

‘So a trip to Cornwall is still on the cards is it?’ Brian asked.

Anna nodded, although she would first have to get it passed by Langton, and she was not looking forward to giving him the details of her interview with Tina Brooks.

As the team broke up for the night, Anna sat in her office mulling over the uneventful day’s work. She jotted down notes to look into the following morning, loath to pick up the phone to Langton. Just as she was about to call him, Paul rang through to say that Joe Smedley, the head mechanic at Metcalf Auto, was on line two.

‘What does he want?’

‘He’s had a breakin, happened last night. He reported it to the local cop shop, but then reckoned we might be interested.’

‘Put him through.’

‘Detective Travis?’

‘Speaking.’

‘I had a breakin last night. It must have happened very late as we was working here up until after nine. It wasn’t in the main part of the garage, but in the workshops attached, and they’re not alarmed, just got a padlock on the roll-up.’

‘Was anything stolen?’

‘That’s what is odd. Nothin’s gone that I could tell you ’cos it was where Alan kept the Merc he was doin’ up, so there weren’t much room for anythin’ else. Some bastard has ripped the Merc’s seats – good quality leather, they were – and the door panels have been torn out. The boot was open and scratched to hell and it had just been resprayed. So it’s a lot of damage. I mean, it don’t hurt me because it wasn’t my vehicle, and to be honest I was gonna call his girlfriend as I dunno what anyone wants to do with the car and I will need the space.’

‘Thank you for calling, Mr Smedley. If you are there now, could you wait as I’d like to have a look at what was done.’

‘Okay. I’ll be here until eight tonight.’

Anna replaced the receiver. She could legitimately put off calling Langton. With Brian in tow, rather disgruntled as he was ready to leave for the evening, she drove to Metcalf Auto repair garage.

The padlock had been broken. As Smedley had said, the workshop was not alarmed, but both padlock and chain were heavy-duty.

‘Hadda come with bolt-cutters, and like I told you, nothing else was broken into – just this lock-up.’

Smedley was still wearing greasy oil-streaked overalls and his hands were black with engine oil. He eased up the gate, which swung out and then slid up under the roof of the workshop.

‘I never charged Al for storing his vehicles in here, only for whatever equipment he needed. The paint-spraying was done round the back and he’d use the hydraulic lift to check the under-carriages, but always when it was convenient. We’ve also had delivery of a new soft top, which is over in the main garage.’

They stood in a row looking into the garage. The 280SL’s seats had, as Smedley described, been hacked, slashed and the stuffing dragged out. Both doors had the panels hammered out, and even the dashboard looked as if someone had attacked it with an axe. The glove compartment door was broken and hanging on its hinges. The boot had deep indentations as it had been locked when it was prised open.

‘It’s a crying shame,’ Joe mourned. ‘Al loves this car and it was just about ready to sell.’

Anna and Brian walked around the damaged vehicle. At the rear of the garage was a tools locker that had been forced open and the contents were strewn around the floor.

‘What do you think they were looking for?’ Anna said quietly to Brian.

‘Christ only knows. Only time I’ve seen a car broken up like this was when I was with the Drug Squad. It had cocaine stacked between the panels in the door. Mind you, that wasn’t a vintage car like this one. This is a real damage job and it must have created a lot of noise.’

‘Did anyone complain about hearing a noise or see anything?’ Anna asked.

Smedley shook his head. ‘There’s no housing close to the yard, and besides, there’s often a lot of noise from us. I dunno even if it’s insured.’

‘Did the locals dust for prints?’ asked Brian, still inspecting the damaged vehicle.

‘I don’t think so. A couple of uniforms came and looked over it, and they thought it might be drunk kids, vandals or whatever.’

Anna suggested to Brian they get SOCO to dust and see if they came up with any prints, although she doubted it. Probably whoever did the damage wore gloves.

‘How many cars did you see Alan Rawlins work on in here?’

‘Quite a few. He’s worked here for years and always had one or another on the go. They made a nice little earner for him and they were always top-of-the-range vintage. He was also obsessive, you know? Hadda be perfect. I’ve seen him do a complete respray, and to me it was perfect, but not to him. He’s also had a couple of motor bikes he customised with a little thin guy, pal of his – a graphic designer – and they did a lovely job between them.’

Anna suggested they close up the garage and asked for Smedley to allow their SOCO officers to dust for prints.

‘How long do I have to keep it here?’ he asked.

‘We’ll be as fast as possible and then I’m not sure what will be done or who now owns it.’

‘So you still got no trace of him then?’

‘No.’

‘Bloody weird – doesn’t make sense.’

As Smedley locked up with a new padlock, Anna asked if she could have a quick chat to him, but Brian was eager to take off home. ‘It’s all right, Brian,’ she told him. ‘This won’t need the two of us. You go.’

Smedley took Anna into his small office and offered to make her a cup of tea, but judging from his filthy hands she didn’t think she’d care for one.

‘Can I just ask you again, Joe – the morning Alan Rawlins left, the last time you saw him . . . just take me through it.’

‘Well, I’ve not got anythin’ more to add. He come in early as always – he was always the first here, last to go. He’d often work on his own vehicles before we got here and before he started on scheduled work. He was a bloody good mechanic, very thorough . . .’ He scratched at his beard and then his chest, trying to come up with something else.

‘He said he was unwell, had a migraine?’ Anna prompted.

‘Yeah, that’s right. He was wearing his overalls, we had a car up on the ramps and he was scheduled to look at it. I was in here sorting through some bills and receipts. I saw him when I drove up as his Merc was out on the forecourt. I said to him it was looking in great shape and he said something about he was just waiting for the soft top to be delivered. That must have cost a lot, ’cos the one the Merc came with was worn and torn. There’s a company that supply them that he’s used before.’

‘How did he seem when you saw him?’

‘The usual. He was quite a shy bloke, didn’t talk much, but he was smiling and then I saw him drive the Merc into the lock-up.’

‘So when did he come in to say he was feeling unwell?’

‘Not long after. It was about ten-fifteen. He was very pale and his hands were clenched. He said he needed to call Tina because he was feeling sick and said he had a headache.’

‘Had he ever taken time off for headaches?’

‘Maybe once before, don’t really remember. I joked with him that he should watch himself, it might be swine flu. Then he used my phone in here.’

‘Did you hear the conversation?’

‘Nope. I was called out – don’t remember what for, but when I came back he said that Tina would be collecting him and taking him home.’

‘How long after that did Tina drive up?’

‘Not long. He was on the forecourt pacing up and down waiting. He got in and they drove off.’

‘And it was Tina?’

‘Yeah. She waved over as they drove out.’

‘Thank you.’ Anna stood up as Smedley opened a drawer.

‘I was asked about when Al took holidays,’ he said. ‘Did you get the details?’

‘Yes, thank you.’

‘He’d come back all tanned and his hair lightened by the sun – good-lookin’ fella.’

‘He was bisexual.’

Smedley did a classic jaw-drop and then chuckled. ‘You pullin’ me leg? Living with a hot tottie like Tina Brooks? No way.’

‘So you never had any indication that he was gay or rather, bisexual?’

‘Al?’

‘Yes.’

‘You serious?’

‘Yes.’

Smedley seemed to take it personally, shaking his head and scratching at his beard.

‘If he was, he kept that under his bonnet, not that I have anythin’ against them, but you surprise me. My wife’ll not believe it, as he was a good-lookin’ guy and strong as an ox.’

They walked out onto the forecourt and headed towards Anna’s Mini.

‘You got me flummoxed,’ Joe went on in disbelief. ‘We did used to joke about him always scrubbing at his hands – liked to be clean before he went home. And a lot of the blokes here wouldn’t mind having Tina as their girlfriend; she’s a lovely-lookin’ woman.’

‘Yes, she is,’ Anna agreed as she unlocked her door.

Smedley stood watching her driving out, still scratching at his beard and his hairy chest.

Anna didn’t go home, but returned to the station. It was eerie, walking through the semi-darkened incident room, as only the night-duty officers were there. She stood for a long time looking over the incident board and then at the lists of estate agents contacted in Cornwall. They had now acquired a photograph of the property Alan had bought. It was a medium-sized detached house with views over the beach, and a wide paved patio with umbrellas and outdoor furniture. There was a barbecue and glass sliding doors opening into a sunken lounge. It had three bedrooms, an en-suite bathroom and a high-tech kitchen with a breakfast bar. It also had a double garage and a gated entrance with a tiered rock garden.

Anna headed into her office, switching on only her desk lamp as she sat down in her chair. She dreaded making the call, but she knew she had put it off long enough. Her hand was reaching for the phone when her door opened and Langton walked in.

‘I was just about to call you,’ she said.

‘Don’t you have a home to go to, Travis?’ He drew out a chair, put his coat over the back of it and sat in front of her.

‘The same could be said of you.’

‘I know. Been up to my eyeballs. I’m tired out and my knee’s killing me. What happened today?’

‘Sadly, not a lot.’

Langton stood up and rubbed his knee, then leaned forward, placing both hands on Anna’s desk.

‘You’ve yet to prove me wrong because without a body you are still running on empty. Even more so as you still have not identified your victim.’

‘It’s not for want of trying.’ She had stood up to face him across her desk.

‘You try harder, sweetheart, otherwise I am going to have to say time is up, and I still maintain that someone close to home, by home I mean the flat where the murder happened – someone knows something.’

‘Give me a clue then, because I have interviewed every tenant, the neighbours across the street and to the side of the block of flats. I’ve interviewed the caretaker, and nobody saw anything. I have no witness.’

‘There is always a witness, remember that. How did the body get moved?’

‘I don’t know.’ She felt like shouting it at him.

‘If it was carved up, it still took time – it’d be heavy, and if you no longer have Tina as a suspect . . .’

‘I never said that.’

‘Right. If you are still suspicious of her, could she have moved it out single-handed?’

‘I am still not losing Michael Phillips as a suspect or a possible accomplice.’

Langton picked up his coat from the back of the chair.

‘Body’s got to be somewhere. If she maintains she returned to the flat after work it means the body was cut up or had to have been moved in broad daylight.’

‘I know, I know . . .’

‘But do you know why I am consenting to your trip to Cornwall?’

‘Because you agree with me that Alan Rawlins could be alive.’

‘No, I don’t agree with you, Anna, but the drug link now has to be treated as a motive. The wrecking of his Mercedes, it’s not malicious, not a vengeful act, it was done by someone looking for something and that is either drugs or money.’

‘I had thought of that, but again there’s no witness – nobody saw or heard anything – and yet it looked as if whoever did it was using a sledgehammer.’

Langton paused, shrugging into his coat.

‘Don’t take any risks, Anna. You uncover something that could be a threat to you, make sure you have back-up and contact the Drug Squad down there. Understand?’

‘I will.’

She walked towards him to see him out and he took her totally off-guard, cupping her face in his hands and kissing her forehead. Then he opened the door, and turning back he smiled.

‘I watched you through the blinds. The lamplight made a halo around that lovely head of yours. See what you can produce from Cornwall. Let’s hope it’s not a wild-goose chase.’

‘Yes, sir. If Alan Rawlins is alive, I’ll track him down.’

He was about to say something, but then changed his mind. He had not forgotten, and probably never would, the loss of his prime suspect in the drug-related murder enquiry they had both worked on. Anthony Fitzpatrick had outwitted him, escaped arrest and was still at large. Langton did not consider with the new evidence that Alan Rawlins was anywhere in the same league as Fitzpatrick, nevertheless if he was involved in a drug-dealing racket it meant he would have contacts. Rawlins also had financial resources. He could, as Anna had suspected, have flown the coop to Florida. Fitzpatrick had managed to escape arrest after a series of murders; he was only able to do so because of his wealth.

When Langton left Anna he had grave concerns, primarily for her safety. In the morning he would begin to make certain enquiries himself.

By the time Anna got home it was after ten. Apart from the half-finished sandwich at lunch, she hadn’t had anything else to eat, but she didn’t have the energy to cook anything bar a couple of slices of toast. She took a mug of tea and sat on her bed. As she dipped the toast into the tea she thought about what she would need to pack for the following day. Langton had given the go-ahead for herself and one other officer to travel to Cornwall, although he had said air flights were out of the question due to budget shortages. He suggested she get the train to Newquay and arrange for the local station to provide a squad car for them to use. If it was necessary, they could stay a couple of nights in a B&B that the locals knew or used.

Anna decided that a five-hour train journey with Brian Stanley would do too much head damage, so she would be accompanied by Paul. Langton had even suggested that Paul would be the best choice as he was homosexual. When she had given him an admonishing glare he had simply laughed.

Anna drew the duvet up to her chin, snuggling down in her bed, but wondering what she might uncover in Cornwall kept her wide awake. She closed her eyes, recalling Langton’s comments as he left. She realised that he had not admitted in as many words that her diligent enquiries had moved the case into a different league. It proved that she had been on the ball and not, as he had implied, over-investigating. Typically, Langton agreeing to the Cornwall visit was to her mind a step forward, and she was even more determined to prove herself right and Langton wrong about her digging up too many suspects.

She too remembered Anthony Fitzpatrick and what it had felt like to see the man they had hunted for so many months escape arrest. Forever lodged in her mind were the faces of the drug dealer’s two small children looking out from the windows of the plane. Wherever they were, wherever Fitzpatrick was hiding out, there had been no sighting of him. It was, she knew, a testament to failure on Langton’s part. She vowed to herself once again that if Alan Rawlins was alive, she would not let him escape arrest.