The Dead Tracks

    'Well, let me give you a head start,' he said. 'I'm gonna give you enough credit to assume you've read up about Sykes.'

    I nodded, trying to figure out where he was headed.

    'So you remember how the police pinned the murder of Jenny Truman on him, right?'

    I went to nod again. Then stopped. He was talking about her dress. I'd overlooked the connection, forgotten it in the blur of the last couple of hours.

    'They found her dress behind a board in his kitchen,' I said.

    'Bingo. And now they've found Megan's blouse behind a board in your kitchen. I think we can safely assume whoever's pinned this on you has a hard-on for Sykes. He looks like him, and now he wants to be like him.'

    'Maybe the guy wants to be like Sykes. Maybe he's somehow involved in Megan going missing. But I don't think he's the man who took her.'

    'Why?'

    'Because the man who took her worked at the youth club.'

    He stopped. Studied me. Looked outside into the corridor then pushed the door shut as far as it would go without fully closing it. 'Is that the lead you gave Phillips and Davidson?' He could see the answer in my face: yes. He rolled his eyes. 'Why?'

    'Because I was screwed.'

    He shifted on the spot. Looked out through the door again, then back to me. 'How do you know this Sykes guy didn't work at the youth club?'

    'Because if he did, why isn't he on their records? For a place like that, you have to pass CRB checks. And if he did that, his picture and his details would be on file at the youth club. But he isn't anywhere near the place.'

    'So if it's not him, who is it?'

    I didn't answer. Eyed him. Why should I even trust you?'

    'Because I'm your only friend inside this house. And you're gonna need a friend. Even if you get bail tonight, the evidence won't go away.'

    'Forensics won't find anything.'

    'You sure?'

    'My prints aren't on the photos.'

    'Maybe they're not,' Healy said, glancing out to the corridor again. 'Or maybe they are. Maybe the blood in that blouse is yours. Maybe Whoever's setting you up has been hunting around in your soap and put one of your cock hairs inside the doll. Who the fuck knows? If he's good enough to set you up, he's good enough to finish the job. You wanna wait around to find out — or do you want to try and finish this before you get flushed for something you didn't do?'

    'Finish it?'

    He looked at me, but didn't say anything.

    'What are we finishing, Healy?'

    His eyes drifted outside to the corridor again. He was nervous. On edge. It looked like he was about to say something, but then he just cleared his throat.

    'Why aren't they linking Leanne to Megan?'

    He frowned. 'What do you mean?'

    'We both know you're still working her case on the quiet. You're still trying to find out what happened to her. Why aren't they tying Leanne to Megan?'

    A lingering look at me. But no response.

    'She worked at the same place as Megan. She even looked a bit like Megan. You know all this already. You know the youth club is what ties them together. Everyone here knows that. So why is Phillips telling me they're not linked?'

    Silence. I studied him, and realized his nervousness wasn't borne out of being caught; it was out of being caught before he'd had the chance to find out where his daughter had gone. He was fuelled by anger, sadness and revenge. Later on down the line that could become dangerous. But at the moment it was helping him focus. No mistakes. No errors. No slip-ups.

    'Look, I'm neck-deep in shit,' I said to him. We can both see that. So I have an agenda just like you. You want to find your girl; I don't want to go down for what they're trying to pin on me. I need to be ready for what mud they sling in my direction next. I need to be armed. You understand that, don't you?'

    After a couple of seconds he nodded.

    'Good.' I paused, studied him. It was going to be hard to get beneath his skin. He wasn't used to giving things up or sharing information. He looked at me and away again. He was telling me I would have to go first. And I knew, at the moment, with the situation I was in, I didn't have much of a choice. 'Daniel Markham.'

    He flicked a look at me. 'What about him?'

    'I think that's the guy who took Megan.'

    'But we interviewed him.'

    'Obviously not well enough.'

    'Why him?'

    'Because Megan was sleeping with him.'

    A pause. 'What?'

    'And she was pregnant.'

    ' What?' He hardly moved. Just stared at me. Then, finally, he rubbed a hand across his forehead and turned away. 'By Markham?'

    'That's the assumption.'

    Something flashed in his eyes. There and then gone. A moment's thought that it was Leanne and not Megan who had been pregnant. A young girl, scared and alone with a man she thought she'd known - but hadn't really known at all.

    'Who told you this?'

    'One of Megan's friends.'

    'And she didn't think to tell the police?'

    'She was warned off.'

    'By who?'

    'Charlie Bryant.'

    'The dead kid?'

    I nodded. Healy knew the case intimately: all the files, all the names, every word of every interview. He didn't need me to explain who they were or how they fitted in.

    'How much of this do Phillips and Davidson know?' he asked.

    'Just that Megan might have been seeing someone at the youth club. They don't know about the pregnancy.'

    'Why would he warn her off telling the police?'

    'I don't know yet.'

    He looked at his watch. 'What have you found out about Markham?'

    I thought of the flat. The emptiness of it. The message behind the bathroom cabinet. 'He's definitely involved.'

    'Meaning?'

    'His flat. He's not living there any more, but something's up. I can show you when I get out of here, but I need you to get what you can on him in the meantime. His CRB check came up clean, so there's nothing on record. But there must be something'

    Healy nodded. His mind was turning things over. Outside in the corridor, a noise. A door opening and shutting. Healy looked out. 'Where's PC Harrison?' said a voice.

    It was Davidson.

    'He's gone to look for you.'

    'What are you doing here?'

    'Keeping an eye on your suspect.'