The Eye in the Sky was hovering only about a hundred yards ahead, an encouraging sign. Hen redoubled her efforts, climbed up a small rise and saw that Gary had already reached the inflatable. But to her amazement, he wasn’t struggling with Jake. He hadn’t made the arrest or taken out the handcuffs. He was helping to beach the dinghy.
Chest heaving now, she had to walk the last stretch. She could see as she approached that the hooded boatman wasn’t tall enough to be Jake. Not a boatman at all, she now discovered, but a boatwoman whose face was familiar.
SEVENTEEN
‘Lady, you’ve got some explaining to do,’ Hen shouted, in competition with the helicopter overhead. She was breathless from running.
This time Jo wasn’t going to be unstrung by this assertive little officer. She’d had time to think about what she would say. ‘I can’t see why. It’s not unlawful to be out in a boat.’
‘Come on, it’s obvious what you were doing. You look ridiculous in the big man’s coat. Now where is he?’
‘I haven’t the foggiest.’
‘You don’t seem to appreciate how serious this is.’ Hen turned and spoke to the young detective beside her. ‘Send the chopper on its way, for God’s sake, Gary. I’m losing my voice.’
‘Don’t we need it any more?’ he asked.
‘Not if the backup are coming. Tell them it’s mission accomplished and ta-ra, thanks very much.’
Gary took out his personal radio.
The arrival of the helicopter had alarmed Jo at first and then angered her. She’d couldn’t stay floating serenely in the middle of the harbour when the rotor action was churning the water, threatening to sink her. Ideally she would have have sat longer in the boat wearing Jake’s hooded jacket. She just hoped she’d bought him enough time. In this vast nature reserve there ought to be hiding places, but she hadn’t expected the search from the air and neither had he.
Gary told Hen, ‘They’ve seen she’s a woman and they want to stay and find Jake.’
‘What else can they do from up there? All right. Ask them to fly over the farmland area and see if he’s there. I can’t hear myself think.’
Presently the helicopter rose higher, swung about, and crossed the water towards the north. The clatter overhead became less.
‘Jake put you up to this, obviously,’ Hen said to Jo. ‘He’s left you deep in shit for helping him to evade arrest. You’d better give straight answers if you don’t want to face a serious charge. Where is he?’
‘I can’t tell you,’ Jo said, speaking the truth.
‘Do you have any idea what you’ve got yourself into? I’m investigating two murders and he’s the prime suspect.’
‘You couldn’t be more wrong,’ Jo said. ‘Jake is a really good guy.’
‘How often have I heard that from some crook’s besotted woman? Listen. If he was that good he wouldn’t need you to cover for him.’
‘He had unfair treatment in the past.’
‘I know all about his record, dear, and you’re coming across as naive and gullible.’
‘He wasn’t the man I saw on Selsey beach, and that’s the truth.’
Hen’s tolerance was under severe strain. ‘Interesting, however, that you and he should turn out to be friends. You’ll be facing questions about that ID parade he was on. Now tell me precisely what he said when he handed you his coat.’
‘He didn’t say much at all.’
‘His words, Miss Stevens. What were his words?’
‘He told me to take care.’
‘Was it his bright idea for you to take the boat out?’
Jo shook her head. ‘I volunteered.’
‘And did he say where he was going next?’
‘No.’
‘Take off the coat and give it to me. I see you’re still wearing your own underneath.’
Jo obeyed. She guessed it would be taken for forensic examination. They really believed Jake was the killer.
From somewhere across the harbour came the two-tone note of a police siren. Then another, chiming in with the first. Hen turned to her assistant. ‘Book this woman and stick her in your car, Gary. She’s obstructing a murder enquiry.’
Handcuffed and locked in the back seat of the Nissan, Jo watched as two police minibuses drew up and disgorged men and women in uniform. All this activity following the helicopter search showed the high priority being given to Jake’s arrest. Yet she refused to believe he had killed anyone. His decency shone through in everything he did. He’d dedicated himself to an ethical life. If she could see that, why couldn’t the police? She remembered his words, ‘You serve your time, but your record is always there.’ How true it was proving.
She hoped he’d found somewhere safe to hide. Those policemen were certain to look in all the obvious places like the bird hides and the chapel and the reed-beds. Thank God he’d said nothing to her about what he planned next. They could question her all day and all night and she’d give nothing away. She doubted if he was right to evade arrest, but she would support him even though she feared he was making things worse for himself. She hadn’t experienced the trauma of prison herself, so she had no right to criticise his actions.
She was horrified by what she saw next-the police emerging from the second minibus in black body armour and armed with submachine guns they checked and gripped in a way that left no doubt they meant to use them. Her heart battered her ribcage like a trapped bird. How often she’d heard of innocent men being gunned down in error. Dreadful if Jake fell in a hail of bullets simply because he had a phobia about being arrested.
And while she watched, another police vehicle swung into the car park, a van marked DOGS UNIT. This was massive overkill. Two German shepherds and their handlers joined the searchers. The young plainclothes detective called Gary led the way out of the car park and down the path to where Hen Mallin waited.
Unable to protest, let alone stop the madness, Jo was furious with herself for not doing more. She hadn’t played this at all cleverly. The smart move would been to have feigned cooperation and actually sent the search party on some fools’ errand miles from where she’d last seen Jake. Instead she was stuck here away from the action with no knowledge of what was happening.
Almost an hour passed before any other vehicle entered the car park, and then it was a mud-spattered old Ford pickup. Two elderly men who were obviously birders got out. They had the woolly hats, anoraks, beards, boots, and binoculars. The humdrum routine of the nature reserve was going on while a manhunt was under way. For some seconds the pair stared in puzzlement at the police vehicles as if they were an unknown species freshly arrived from Siberia. Shaking their heads, they moved off in the direction of the small pool in search of something they would recognise.
Five minutes later, Hen Mallin opened the car door. ‘You’re steaming up. Step outside and get some air.’
It was good to stretch, even with the cuffs on, but no relief from the mental torment. ‘Haven’t you found him yet?’ Jo said, trying to sound bullish against all the evidence.
‘We picked up his bike, which means he can’t be far off, unless he got a lift from someone.’
‘I wouldn’t know about that.’
‘And he hasn’t borrowed your car, because it’s standing by the visitors’ centre. We ran a check on your registration.’
‘Tax and MOT up to date. You can’t do me for that.’
Hen took out a pack of small cigars and lit one. ‘Honey, I’ll do you for obstructing my murder enquiry.’
