‘So Steve Brennan goes to a rendezvous near Tina’s place, picks up Ray Mason, takes him back home, then smuggles him out of the country. And if he was driving in his own car, the only reason he’d stop to rent one from Hertz is if he’s doing it for Mason. Any idea where they stopped last night? I didn’t see any hotel payments on his credit cards.’
‘The Brennans own a property there. They’ve got a mortgage with HSBC for it. I’ve just pulled it up on Google Maps.’ Mo handed Bolt a sheet of paper with a satellite image of a group of three detached houses set amid fields, with a copse of trees running along their back. ‘As you can see, it’s a nice rural location.’
Bolt examined the photo and thought how hard it was for anyone to evade the long arm of the law these days once they’d been identified as a suspect. The day was coming when it would be all but impossible to commit a crime undetected – and not a moment too soon as far as he was concerned.
‘This is good work, Mo.’
‘Mason could still be at the Brennans’ house in France.’
‘You’re right. If they stayed there last night it means it’s not currently being rented out. If I was Mason, I’d probably want to stay put for a couple of days and work out my next move. He’s had a couple of narrow escapes. But even if he keeps moving, we now know he’s in a rental car. We need to get onto our French counterparts and Interpol. Find out what car it is, and see if they’re prepared to put the Brennans’ place under surveillance for us. I’ll clear that with the boss.’
‘Is it worth leaning on Tina some more?’
‘Not yet. This is all conjecture. What we need is proof. Did P&O say whether Karen Brennan travelled with her husband to France?’
‘They said it was just him,’ said Mo.
Bolt sighed. ‘Well, I think our best bet right now would be to pay Karen Brennan a visit.’
42
‘I’m not looking forward to this,’ said Bolt as they turned into the Brennans’ driveway. ‘I remember when Dana Brennan disappeared. I can still picture her mum and dad on TV press conferences begging for whoever abducted her to bring her back. It was heartbreaking.’
‘I remember it too,’ said Mo. ‘I was only about fifteen but it was all over the news. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to lose one of my kids.’ He shook his head. ‘It would kill me.’
Mo was one of the most doting dads Bolt knew, and he had three lovely children who were now all well into their teenage years. Bolt might not have had children himself, but he’d still been deeply affected by the sheer pain the Brennans were clearly going through. At the time he was twenty-three and a uniformed officer. It was one of the cases that made him think he’d made the right choice joining the police.
Bolt pulled up directly behind a red Skoda that he knew belonged to Karen Brennan and they got out of the car.
‘I can’t believe the Brennans would help Mason,’ said Mo as they walked up to the front door. ‘I know he was trying to find their daughter’s killer, but this is going way beyond that.’
Bolt hadn’t told Mo about Tina’s claims that Alastair Sheridan was involved in the Bone Field killings. ‘Well, let’s hope Mrs Brennan wants to talk to us.’ He rang the doorbell. As was always the case with policework, they hadn’t announced they were coming.
Karen Brennan was a small woman in her sixties who looked worn by her experiences, and as soon as she answered the door and they introduced themselves, Bolt knew their suspicions about the Brennans’ involvement were correct. Her face went pale and she grabbed the door frame to steady herself.
‘Are you all right, Mrs Brennan?’ asked Mo.
‘Yes, yes, I’m fine,’ she said. But she didn’t look fine at all. She looked like she might burst into tears.
‘We’d like to talk to you about Ray Mason,’ said Bolt gently.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said, but her jaw was quivering.
‘I think you do,’ continued Bolt, still talking gently, keen not to intimidate her. ‘I think it would be best if we talk inside.’
‘Oh God,’ she whispered, her tight features pinched into an expression that veered between resignation and outright panic. Then she nodded and turned away, leaving the door open for them.
Bolt exchanged a glance with Mo and they followed her into a small living room, Bolt having to duck to avoid the overhead beams.
They sat down opposite her, and Bolt leaned forward. ‘Mrs Brennan, we know that your husband’s been helping Ray Mason.’ She started to protest but stopped as Bolt raised a hand. ‘We’ve checked the movements of his car and his phone and we know that he picked up Mason on Saturday evening and brought him back here, then smuggled him by ferry to France yesterday. If we were to search your house and your husband’s car, I have no doubt we’d find DNA evidence of Mr Mason’s presence. So you need to tell us the truth. Where are they now?’
Mrs Brennan sat bolt upright, kneading her hands in her lap. ‘I don’t want to say anything to get my husband in trouble.’
‘I’m afraid he’s already in trouble, Mrs Brennan,’ said Mo. ‘Mr Mason is a fugitive from justice. Aiding and abetting him is a serious offence.’
‘But given your circumstances, there may be room for some leniency if you both cooperate with us,’ put in Bolt.
She had a tissue up the sleeve of the cardigan she was wearing and she took it out now and dabbed her eyes. ‘I told Steve not to do it
