worry.’
‘I won’t,’ she said with a quiver.
The two detectives had hurried from the school on receiving the news from the head teacher about Katie’s absence and gone directly to the Bretherton household. Henry would have staked Donaldson’s fat pay packet on Katie being with Mark. It was too much of a coincidence. They’d once been very close and if Mark was going around saying his farewells to his mates, it was always on the cards that Katie would be on the list as well as Bradley.
‘Detective Superintendent Christie receiving?’ Henry’s PR called out.
‘Go ‘head.’
‘FYI, we’ve got a patrol on Pier Gardens, Shoreside, attending the scene of a garden shed break.’
‘And that has what to do with me?’ Henry said irritably.
‘We thought you’d be interested. Looks like someone might have bedded down there for the night, then stolen a bike — and also left an unpleasant calling card.’
‘Oh, right, sorry. I am interested, Get the patrol attending to take details and pass them on to the MIR please.’ Henry’s thumb came off the transmit button and he looked triumphantly at Donaldson and Mrs Bretherton. ‘Could be where Mark got his head down.’
Mrs Bretherton’s house phone then rang.
She picked it up. ‘Katie, where the heck are you? I’ve been worried sick. The police are here… oh.’ She looked at the dead phone. ‘Hung up.’
‘What did she say, ma’am?’
‘That she was OK. That was it.’
‘Will you ring her back, please?’ Henry asked.
‘And beg her not to hang up,’ Donaldson said sweetly. ‘If she is or has been with Mark, we urgently need to speak to her.’
‘I’ll try.’ She fumbled with the touch-tone keypad under the gaze of the two men. Eventually she tabbed in the number, put the phone to her ear and looked at Donaldson as she waited, her eyes taking him in. Henry could see she was wondering what it would be like. He glanced at Donaldson who had that lopsided grin on his face and Henry suddenly realized that the big dumb Yank thought he was God’s gift to women following his tawdry encounter in Malta. That, Henry thought peevishly, could unleash a very dangerous animal. ‘It’s ringing,’ Mrs Bretherton said. Then it was answered as she bent forward, as if craning to hear would actually increase the volume. ‘Darling, please don’t hang up. I’m not angry. Please, this is very important…’ Henry held and waggled his fingers for the phone. ‘Love, please don’t hang up, there’s a police officer here who must speak to you.’
‘Katie? This is Henry Christie… yeah, I thought you’d know me. Love, you’re not in trouble but just tell me, have you seen Mark Carter this morning?’
Katie agonized over her answer. The half-filled train was heading towards Blackpool and she could still feel Mark’s hand down her panties, and what he’d said about love and her promise to him not to talk almost made her say no, I haven’t seen him.
But Katie Bretherton was no liar.
Plus, she could see that her overriding responsibility was above her feelings for Mark. She was a very moral girl who wanted to do the right thing. She watched the countryside blur by for a moment.
‘Yes, I have seen him.’
The platform was getting busier with irritated passengers. Late trains were nothing new, but this was getting ridiculous.
Mark milled around restlessly, his eyes roving. Only when he was on the Virgin Express and the next stop was Crewe would he feel anything like safe. He checked the boards. The news was good. One minute to the arrival of the Pendolino service to Euston, stopping only at Crewe and Rugby. In less than three hours he would be at Euston Station and on the streets of London.
He was on platform three, the main one, looking north up the tracks as they curved away in the distance. The train came into view in its distinctive Virgin livery.
He heaved up his rucksack and sleeping bag, checked his ticket once more, the one he’d bought for cash at the station. Carriage D, seat twelve, forward facing.
The train was less than a hundred metres from the platform now, slowing down gently.
Mark edged to the safety line, trying to work out where carriage D would be. Fourth down from the front, or fourth from back?
He positioned himself where he thought the middle of the train might be once it had stopped.
The engine passed him. The brakes hissed. He could smell diesel and smoke. He looked for his carriage.
The train stopped and the doors slid open. Some angry-looking people disembarked. They’d been stuck somewhere out in the country for two hours, no hot drinks, no food. Sod ’em, Mark thought. Just get out of the way and let me on.
He was about to place his right foot through the nearest door when hands gripped his biceps at either side of his body and he was dragged roughly away from the train.
Henry was driving. Donaldson was in the passenger seat, grinning like a slightly woozy Cheshire cat.
‘That poor woman almost had an orgasm when you talked to her,’ a miffed Henry said.
‘I know,’ he said smugly.
‘Your mojo is on fire.’
‘Yeah, baby.’
Henry scowled at him. ‘It’s only just dawned on you, hasn’t it?’
‘The amazing effect I have on the opposite sex? Yuh, suppose so.’
Henry gasped with disbelief, but before he could say anything, his phone rang. ‘Henry Christie… thanks for that.’ He looked at Donaldson. ‘Got him.’
THIRTEEN
Having warned Karl Donaldson in no uncertain terms not to unleash his newly discovered sexual superpowers on Kate, Henry dropped him off at his home. Then he headed down the A585 towards Preston. He’d told the plain- clothes officers who’d arrested Mark on the railway station to lodge him in the cells on suspicion of robbery and he would come to collect him personally.
Meanwhile, Donaldson settled in Henry’s house and was given a cup of tea by Kate who, having known him for a long time, was completely immune to his charms. From a purely objective standpoint, though, she could have happily ripped off his clothes and pleasured herself on him, and had she not been so completely in love with Henry, that’s what she would have done. A long time ago.
‘Karen phoned earlier,’ she told Donaldson. ‘Said she’d be up mid-afternoon.’
‘Oh, smashing,’ he said dubiously.
Instantly the female radar honed in on something. ‘Is that OK?’
‘Yeah, yeah.’
She folded her arms. ‘You two aren’t having problems again, are you?’
‘Uh, no,’ he lied. It wasn’t long since Kate had acted as a bit of a go-between and engineered a meeting between him and Karen after they’d been having problems following him being wounded in Barcelona. Kate was under the impression they’d weathered that storm. Maybe she’d been wrong. She could sense something was troubling Karl, who in terms of his personal life was a bit of an open book. Unlike his professional life that was shrouded in secrecy.
‘You can tell me, you know.’ She smiled sympathetically at him — and he almost fell for it. The man who had faced one of the world’s most wanted terrorists and emerged victorious, who had hunted down bombers and violent criminals, had almost blabbed his infidelity to his wife’s friend.
‘Nah, it’s nothing — honestly.’ He held her stare sheepishly, before being forced to shrug, look away and cough guiltily.
‘Fine,’ she said.
