Heck quickly caught up with him, leaping onto his back — only to be flipped forward over the guy’s shoulder and land heavily in the dirt.

Heck was winded, but still managed to roll away and scramble up into a crouch.

The hooded figure backed off slowly, but the hood had now come down to reveal that he was actually a she. In fact, he was the girl from The Raven’s Nest, the dusky-skinned, mini-skirted beauty who’d whupped Heck at pool.

She was in less sensual mode now, breathing hard, her face shining with sweat as she retreated. When Heck got to his feet, she snapped a flick knife open, its long, slender blade glinting like ice.

‘I told you I’m a police officer,’ Heck warned her when he’d recovered from his surprise. ‘You stick that thing in me and I die, you’ll get thirty years minimum.’

‘You think I’ve come all this way because I want to kill you?’ she panted.

‘Okay … so put the knife down.’

‘Uh-uh.’ She shook her head. ‘I’m not being arrested.’

‘If you knew how many times I hear that in the average day …’

‘Just back off! I don’t want to hurt you.’ But she winced as she retreated, her right leg almost folding beneath her.

Heck shook his head. ‘I knew Bobby Ballamara was way down the list when they were giving out cerebella, but I never thought he’d be stupid enough to hire an amateur like you.’

‘I’d have told you last night, if you’d given me a chance … I don’t know anyone called Ballamara.’

‘Sorry love, but that won’t cut it. Whatever you say, or don’t say, all they’ll need to do is find evidence that you were on his payroll, and anything that happens to me will come back to haunt him in a big way.’

‘Look … I just want to find my sister.’

Heck stopped. ‘What?’

‘If you’d listened in the pub there’d be no need for any of this.’

‘Your sister?’

‘My name’s Lauren Wraxford. Does that ring a bell?’

‘Should it?’

She gave a wry smile. ‘Yeah, it should. But it’s no surprise it doesn’t.’ She was still breathing hard and warding him off with the knife, but she now knuckled at her right cheek. To his surprise, he realised that she was trying to wipe away a tear. ‘If you don’t recognise “Lauren Wraxford”, maybe you recognise “Genene Wraxford”?’

‘Genene Wrax …’ That name was definitely familiar. Heck placed it: on a mis-per file — one sent down to Scotland Yard at his request by the West Yorkshire Police. It had featured a colour snapshot of a beautiful black girl posed in a graduate ceremony gown, holding a law degree.

‘Went to Leeds Uni?’ he ventured.

She nodded; her eyes were now brimming with tears.

‘There seems to be a resemblance,’ he said.

‘Genene’s my older sister.’ She wiped irritably at her cheeks.

‘Alright, I understand. Lauren … drop the blade, okay? Right now.’

She swallowed, finally closing the knife up and pocketing it, but making sure to keep a distance of several feet between them.

Heck made no further effort to approach. ‘You’re telling me that all this is because you’re trying to find your sister?’

‘I was only shadowing you. I wasn’t doing anything wrong.’

‘Until now. Now you’re hampering a police investigation.’

‘I thought the investigation was closed.’

‘So why were you shadowing me?’

She shrugged. ‘I didn’t know what else to do.’

Heck mopped sweaty hair from his brow. ‘If I remember rightly, Genene disappeared three years ago. Why’s it taken you this long to get excited about it?’

‘I’ve been away.’

‘Away?’

‘Afghanistan. Before that it was Iraq.’

‘You’re a soldier?’

‘Was. Until recently. Royal Ordnance Corps, Combat Support Division.’

‘That explains a lot.’ Heck’s side was hurting where she’d thrown him.

‘Look, I’m sorry this has happened,’ she blurted. ‘I’ve been trying to get information through normal channels, but no one seems to know anything. Or they don’t want to talk about it. You any idea how difficult it is for a member of the public to even speak to a copper these days? The small parts of police stations you’re actually allowed into are operated by civvy nobodies who think that, just because they’ve got uniforms on, they can lord it over you.’

Heck dusted himself down before turning back towards his car.

She cautiously followed. ‘It took me ages just to get your name.’

‘Yeah, well I’m sorry, but like I said last night, you wasted your time.’

‘Why? Is the investigation on, or isn’t it?’ She ran to catch up, snatching him by the arm. ‘I’m talking to you!

Heck spun around. ‘Hey! Now you’ve stalked me all the way from London so you can threaten me with a knife. You carry on like this … ex-army or not, I’ll throw your arse in jail.’

Her dark cheeks had coloured, her eyes shone. She wasn’t crying now, he noticed. And she didn’t release him.

‘You’re not just going to walk away from me!’ she hissed. ‘Look, my sister’s been missing thirty months and now it’s not a case that you can’t tell me anything … now it’s a case that you won’t? Are you having a laugh?’

Heck yanked his arm free. ‘I’m not answerable to you. I’m sorry about what’s happened to your family, but I’m not going to divulge sensitive information to you or anyone else. To start with, I don’t have the first clue who you really are. For all I know, you could be the bloody kidnapper.’

‘You bastard!’ she shouted, as he walked on.

‘If you’ve got a complaint, take it to New Scotland Yard.’

‘If you’re not going to find her, I am …’

He reached his Fiat and opened it. ‘I’d be more concerned about how you’re going to get home, if I were you. That van looks like a write-off.’

‘What … you think I can’t make it out of here on foot? I used to deploy on ten-day patrols, for Christ’s sake … through the most godforsaken mountains you’ve ever seen.’

‘Good practice for getting back to Yorkshire, then.’ He climbed in, closed the door and switched the engine on.

She limped up to his open window. ‘I suppose you’d rather spend your shift dragging out paperwork? Or maybe nicking hard-working citizens for being impolite to their drug addict neighbours?’ Heck put the car in gear. ‘You just get on with all that,’ she added. ‘I’ll go look for Genene. I’ll start with this character Ballamara.’

Heck glanced round at her.

She smiled as she retreated. ‘If I can find you, I can surely find him.’

‘Miss Wraxford …?’

Despite having hurt her leg, she moved quickly away, stopping first at the wrecked van and pulling a heavy Bergen backpack out of it.

‘Hey, Miss Wraxford!’

She ignored him, hoisting the pack onto her back and starting to walk.

He spun the car around after her, but she deliberately veered off the lot onto broken ground, crossing it diagonally towards the unmade track that had brought them here. It was several minutes later before he could pull up alongside her again.

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