Chandler nodded along. ‘True. We can only hope.’
‘Imagine if someone put the word out about the kind of man they’re dealing with.’
She gave him a sideways look. ‘That would be wrong of us, DS Bliss.’
The smile he returned was not a humorous one. ‘Indeed it would, DS Chandler. But mistakes happen.’
They returned to the incident room immediately upon hearing of Cromer’s response to Bishop’s request. The traffic crew had indeed found Nicola and her two children at a house overlooking the beach at Mundesley. However, all three related the exact same story: they were hiding from a killer contracted by Lewis Drake. With all three refusing to attend Cromer station for further voluntary interviews, and no reason to arrest them, the attending officers had obtained a clean mobile number for the Thorpe Wood team to use if they wanted to pursue the matter directly.
Which Bliss most certainly did.
‘Now what do you want, you persistent old fuck?’ she asked by way of a response to his call.
‘Dark Desires,’ he said. ‘I want to know more about it.’
A deep exhalation crackled down the line. ‘I told you before, I don’t know anything about any site on the dark web. You’re wasting your time. And mine.’
Bliss analysed her voice for stressors. He heard only irritation. ‘Okay. So tell me, Nicola, do you genuinely believe your old boss has a hit out on you? Is that the truth?’
‘Of course it is. Why would I make up some crazy shit like that? Especially when it implicates Lewis Drake, of all people. I’d be bloody mad to do something like that.’
He hadn’t thought of it that way before. He understood what she meant, and her denial sounded genuine. Bliss began to wonder if Troy had led his own mother astray, insisting that Drake had taken a hit out on them all. He tried another tack. ‘I’m going to send you a series of photos, Nicola.’
‘They’re not dick pics, are they? I don’t think my image software magnifies enough for that.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself. Call me fussy, but I like my women to be… well, human. No, the photos are from our evidence file. They reveal the details of invoices issued to an offshore company with connections to your son. Your main focus needs to be on what the invoices are for. You’ll see there’s a good deal of IT equipment, software, plus an office space and some heavy-duty broadband connectivity. Almost as if whoever bought all that kit was running… ooh, let’s say a website of some description. Have a look. I’m sending it now.’
He’d already prepared the files and the message. All he had to do was hit send. He did so, and then waited. He heard Parkinson’s phone ping. He waited some more. After a few minutes of complete silence, she said in a hard and toneless voice, ‘These prove nothing. You could have knocked them up yourself. What am I supposed to say to this shite?’
‘I’m gathering additional proof, Nicola. All the evidence we have so far tells us either this is Troy’s company or he’s at least financially involved in some way. And as we speak, the finest technical minds in the NCA are going through the data stored on those devices. We’ll make the case against him. Have no doubt about that.’
Exasperated, Parkinson’s voice became shrill. ‘What’s your game, Bliss? Even if everything you said was true, why would you tell me? Do you not think I’d warn him?’
Bliss huffed. ‘Oh, I’m sure you would – even though your own flesh and blood cut you out of a deal that must have made him millions. That has to sting a bit, Nicola. But family is family, I suppose. No matter how much they screw you over. I warn you, though, once we do make our case, we’ll find him wherever he goes. He’s not getting out of the country any time soon, so that narrows things down a bit for us.’
‘So what’s your bloody angle? Why call? Why all the questions?’
They had reached the stage at which Bliss had run out of information. From this point on he was reaching, grasping at invisible straws and hoping for something to stray within his desperate clutches.
‘It’s the young blonde,’ he said softly, remembering the irregular thought patterns of recent days.
‘What young blonde? What are you banging on about, Bliss? Are you talking about my daughter? You want to drag her into this as well?’
‘No, no. I don’t think so. Listen to me. The flat our chalk pits victim rented was cleaned out by a group of foreign men and a young blonde. Our witness thought she might be local, but he couldn’t tell for sure. Either way, for me that’s the piece that doesn’t fit. See, as far as we were concerned, Drake or someone working for his organisation – possibly you – had signed off on taking out our victim because she was earning on the side. We assumed the people who cleaned out the flat were working for you, too. Only, that can’t be the case if you genuinely had no clue she had her own sideline. And as much as I despise you, Nicola, I believed you when you told us that. We also know who killed her, and why. But nobody responsible for her death cleared out her flat, either.’
‘I’m still not seeing how this has anything to do with me or my family,’ Parkinson snapped.
‘Me neither. But I’m getting there, so bear with me. Thing is, logic tells me if it wasn’t our killer and it had nothing to do with her main employer, there has to be a connection to her sideline.’
‘Are you suggesting my boy is involved in her murder?’
‘Not really. Because I suspect if he was, either he’d have been there himself for the clean-up, or the blonde girl in question would have been your daughter. If neither of
