Dan leaned forward. ‘She doesn’t know anything about my looking into the flight disaster.’
‘Another lie. She’s investigating Kaitlyn Rogers’ murder, isn’t she?’
Dan put his head on one side. Held the woman’s gaze. ‘Did you kill Kaitlyn?’
The hazel eyes looked at him, impassive, uncaring. ‘What if I did?’
Images flashed like lightning through his head.
Kaitlyn’s ripped jeans, red tassel top, bangles on both wrists. Auburn hair twisted into a knot. Her affectionate exasperation for her brother.
Josh drooling over the children’s colouring books and crayons. His clumsy efforts to colour in the spaceship.
The devastation of the plane wreckage. The little girl still strapped to her seat. The charred remains. Suitcases, shoes, magazines, clothes. Entrails, body parts everywhere.
But it was the image of Josh that stayed with him.
Dan could count on one hand the amount of times he’d lost control. A rush of heat, of red and black, raw and animal clawed from his heart into his throat and with all his strength Dan thrust himself forward, driving his lowered head into the woman’s chest. They fell together, Dan on top, bringing back his fist to punch the coldness from her eyes. Smash her face into oblivion. But before he could strike a blow, a penetrating pain, shrieking through his muscles, felled him onto the cold stone floor.
His hands and legs were shackled again but this time, they beat him until he fainted.
55
After she’d left New Scotland Yard and Superintendent Geoff Hanmer, ex-SDS operative and best buddy of her dad, Lucy went straight to Jon Banks, SIO, and told him everything. Everything.
He made notes as she spoke. He was incisive and efficient and asked pertinent questions that meant he had pretty much the whole story from her in under twenty minutes. She could see why he’d been made SIO.
When she started to apologise for not reporting Chris Malone the second she saw her, he held up a hand. ‘Later,’ he said. ‘We are where we are. We need to crack on right away.’
She followed him to the briefing room where he ran the team through the case. That Adam Mason was a false name for a man called Carl Davies who used to be an undercover operative, but who was now a ‘person of interest’ to the SFO, whereabouts currently unknown. That Amina Amari was suspected of trying to kill Ricky Shaw.
‘I want both of them brought in for questioning. Harris,’ he pointed at a sergeant, ‘get West Midlands Police on the blower for me. I want BreatheZero under wraps as well as Amina Amari’s mansion, her car, her cleaner, her fucking dog. Same goes for Carl Davies, aka Adam Mason.’
He snapped a finger at a constable. ‘Find out where Mason lives.’ He didn’t look at her as he spoke. She could have hugged him for not telling everyone that Mason was her father. That would come later. When she was stronger. Right now she felt dizzy and off-balance, as though she was coming down with flu.
‘You.’ Another snap of the fingers. ‘Find this faux professor. Bring him in. Apparently, there’s a contract which he’s signed. It might have an address on it…’
Lucy watched as the SIO doled out the tasks. It was a major operation, bringing in the SFO as well as the Birmingham and Wolverton cop shops.
‘And what about this Helen Flowers?’ he asked, tapping a blown-up photograph stuck on the wall showing a woman with doughy features and small, sharp eyes. ‘There’s still a warrant out for her arrest so keep your eyes peeled, please, and if you see her, take her down.’
The energy in the room crackled and as people began to move, the SIO barked, ‘You.’ He was looking at her. ‘My office.’
Predictably, he told her she had to go home. Just as predictably, she refused.
‘You can’t stay here, Lucy.’ He was firm. ‘I know it’s unbelievably tough, but it’s protocol. I will keep you informed, okay? But you have to go home.’
‘Can’t I just sit in the corner? I won’t get in the way, I’ll–’
‘No,’ he snapped. ‘Out, now. And if I see you anywhere nearby, I will have you suspended.’
She knew he was only doing his job, but even so. She glared at him. He held her eyes unrelentingly. ‘Go,’ he said, slightly more gently. ‘Then I can get on with the job.’
She nodded, picked up her handbag, and went to her mum’s. She thought about heading to Bristol and Mac, where she was supposed to be going tonight, but she wanted to be near the action in case she was needed. Kensington was where Kaitlyn had been murdered, and where the core of the case dwelled.
It was one of the most tortuous afternoons she could remember. She spent most of it pacing through the house. She kept calling Dan, but he wasn’t answering his phone. She didn’t try her father, or attempt to warn him that the police were after him. She’d thought she might be tempted, but no. He was nothing but a cheating, low-life, shitty criminal who was hanging out with cheating, low-life, shitty criminals. He deserved what he got and should she ever feel guilty about it, she’d deal with that when the time came.
She rang Mac. Filled him in.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he said. ‘That’s crazy.’
‘I know.’ She leaned against the kitchen wall, kicking the bin in a steady, small and angry rhythm.
‘You want me there? It won’t take me long to charge up the M4.’
‘No. I’m better on my own. I’ll just drive you nuts.’
‘It’s not a problem. My case is just about wrapped up.’
‘Mac, I’m serious.’ She stalked to the window. Looked at next door’s washing hanging damply above a scattering of crocuses. ‘I really am better on my own.’
‘Okay.’ He sounded startled. ‘That’s fine. Just let me know how it goes. And if you need me…’
‘I’ll holler.’
After she’d hung up, she prowled some more, relentlessly checking her phone,
