and she hasn't gone within a mile of any of Carpenter's people. Neither has Stafford. We've been through all their phone records. Nothing. No connection between either of them and Carpenter.'
'So Carpenter has someone else?'
'That's the way I read it. He uses Digger to fix up the perks on the spur, but someone else is running errands to his people.'
'Shit,' said Shepherd.
'Yeah,' said Hargrove.
'What about Bain?'
'We've checked Bain's phone calls and visitors. No connection with Carpenter's men. Also, Bain is pretty much finished. His wife took most of the cash and she's shacked up in Malaga with a Turkish waiter. A couple of his gang set up on their own using the contacts he'd made. He's a spent force. We'll keep tags on his calls and visits, but it doesn't look like he's the conduit.'
'So now what?'
'That's the thing, isn't it?' said Hargrove. 'If we pull in Stafford, we show our hand.'
'So you let him run?'
'Until we find out who else is on the take.' Hargrove paused. 'If you're up for it.'
Moira was waiting with the front door open as Shepherd and Liam walked down the road, hand in hand. 'I don't like Gran's cooking,' said Liam. 'She uses too much salt.'
'Well, tell her.'
Moira waved at them and Shepherd waved back.
'Dad, are you home for good now?'
Shepherd stopped. 'Let's talk about it tomorrow, yeah?'
'You're not going away again, are you?'
'It won't be long, Liam.' Shepherd made the sign of the cross over his heart. 'Cross my heart.'
'You're always going away.'
'It's my job.'
Tears welled in Liam's eyes. 'Don't leave me with Gran. Please.'
Shepherd scooped up his son and held him tight, burying his face in his son's hair. Liam was racked with sobs. 'I miss Mum.'
'So do I.'
'It's not fair.'
'I know.'
'It was my fault, Daddy.'
'No, it wasn't. Don't be silly.'
'She was trying to get my bag and she died.'
Shepherd kissed his son's cheek, wet with tears. 'It wasn't anybody's fault,' he said. 'It was an accident. But your mummy loves you more than anyone else in the world and she's in Heaven looking down and watching over you. She'll be watching over you for the rest of your life.'
'Are you sure?' asked Liam, blinking away tears.
'Cross my heart,' said Shepherd.
'You have to do it to make it count,' said Liam.
Shepherd cradled him in his left arm and crossed his heart with his right hand, then carried Liam to the house. He took him into the sitting room, half expecting to see Sue lying on the sofa watching TV or reading one of the trashy celebrity magazines she loved, ready to bite off his head for working late yet again.
Shepherd put Liam down on the sofa. 'Do you want to watch TV?' he asked.
'I want to play with my PlayStation.'
'Go on, then,' said Shepherd, and left him to set it up. He went into the kitchen, where Moira was busying herself over a casserole. 'It'll be ready in an hour or so,' she said. 'Do you want mash or chips?'
'Anything's fine,' said Shepherd. He sat down at the kitchen table and poured himself a cup of tea. He didn't take sugar but he stired it round and round, with a teaspoon, staring into the vortex. 'I can't believe it's happened. It's not sunk in yet.'
Moira bent down and put the casserole into the oven. When she straightened up there were tears in her eyes. Suddenly it hit Shepherd that Moira had lost her only daughter. He'd been so tied up with his own and Liam's pain that he hadn't considered how Moira must be feeling. She only had two children - Sue, and a son who was in Australia and whom she was lucky to see once a year. Her lower lip was trembling.
Shepherd stood up quickly and went over to her. 'Oh, God, Moira, I'm sorry,' he said, and put his arms round her.
'I'm not going to cry, I'm not,' she said.
'It's okay,' said Shepherd, stroking the back of her head. 'Really, it's okay.'
'It's not fair.' She sniffed. 'She never did anyone any harm, she loved everybody, she didn't deserve to die like that. Damn it, damn it, damn it.'
It was the first time Shepherd had heard his mother-inlaw swear. Tears sprung into his own eyes but he fought them back.
'I never thought I'd be burying my daughter,' said Moira. 'Children aren't supposed to die before their parents.'
A tear escaped, and trickled down Shepherd's right cheek; he brushed it away on Moira's shoulder.
'A stupid car accident,' said Moira. 'A stupid, stupid accident. If she'd driven another way to school, if the truck hadn't been there, if she'd seen it sooner - there are so many 'ifs' that it tears me apart. She shouldn't be dead. It's not right. It's not fair.'
She sobbed into his chest and Shepherd stood there, his arms round her. It was the first time he'd ever held his mother-in-law. The first time he'd ever seen her cry. There were so many firsts. But with Sue there'd be no more. They'd had their last meal together. Their last sex. Their last fight. Everything to do with Sue was now in the past.
Shepherd helped Moira to a chair and poured her a cup of tea. He gave her a piece of kitchen towel to dry her tears.
'I never wanted her to marry you,' she said.
'I know,' said Shepherd. Moira and her bank-manager husband had made that clear from the start. They had regarded Shepherd as unsuitable, because of both his working-class background and his profession. There was nothing they could do about his parentage, but they did all they could to persuade him to leave the Regiment. He'd steadfastly refused, and it was only when Sue had threatened to elope that Moira and Tom had caved in and agreed to a full church wedding. All Shepherd's Regimental friends were told to dress in civvies, but he was delighted that they had worn small SAS pins in their lapels.
'She loved you so much, you know that?' said Moira.
'Yes,' said Shepherd.
'We told her, marrying a soldier leads to nothing but heartbreak.'
Shepherd put his hands round his cup of tea. Sue had kept the cups for best and they usually drank from mugs, but Moira didn't have a mug in her house. It was always cups and saucers. Tears streamed from his eyes and he put his head down so that his forehead rested on the edge of the table.
Carpenter nodded at Lloyd-Davies as he walked along the landing. 'How's it going, Miss Lloyd-Davies?' he asked.
'Hunky-dory, thanks for asking,' said Lloyd-Davies.
'Your hair looks good like that,' said Carpenter.
Instinctively her hand went up to touch it.
Carpenter smiled. 'It shows off your cheekbones.'
Lloyd-Davies was half flattered and half annoyed. She knew he was only trying to press her buttons: Carpenter could turn the charm on anybody and it just happened to be her turn. But it was the first time she'd tried wearing her hair tied up and not one of her colleagues had noticed.
Carpenter leaned against the railing, looking down at the prisoners congregating on the ground floor. The evening meal was about to be served. Usually one of his men fetched his food for him, but today he had reason for
