‘Have you seen her?’ The man was hoarse and desperate, as if pleading for his life. ‘She’s nowhere to be found. For Christ’s sake, where is she?’
‘How is he?’
Greg Wharf had shut the door after coming in to Hannah’s office. She nodded as he took a seat, though they mustn’t make a habit of talking behind closed doors. For so many people in Divisional HQ, gossip was as natural as breathing. Essential not to give them any oxygen. Anyway, she could only give him a couple of minutes; she was supposed to be on her way to Lancaster.
‘He’ll live.’ She repeated what the doctor had said.
A theatrical sigh of relief. ‘Thank Christ for that. Looks like he’s got away with it by the skin of his teeth.’
‘Yes, he’s lucky.’
‘And the breath test was negative.’
‘Breath test?’ Her brain wasn’t functioning.
‘Yeah, I – um – didn’t mention it last night.’
‘What?’
‘Hey, you weren’t … yourself. I called Traffic as well as the ambulance when I saw his car wrapped around that tree. Best play it by the book with an RTC.’
Of course, he was right. There were no such things as road accidents, these days. They were, at the very least, incidents with some form of causation. This was a Road Traffic Collision, and the law allowed the police to breathalyse a driver involved in a collision. In practice, they always did so, in order to feed the Home Office’s addiction to statistics. Trees were, in the quaint jargon of police legalese, ‘roadside furniture’, and Marc’s crash, inflicting damage on the old oak, opened him up to prosecution. Driving without due care and attention was the likely charge. They’d never make a dangerous driving rap stick, and driving your car into a tree was solid enough evidence of a lack of due care. It could have been so much worse, but all the same …
‘Shit.’
‘Something new for you to worry about?’ He kept his face straight, but she knew he was teasing her.
‘You think the CPS will be interested?’
‘Dunno. Nobody else was involved, and the tree will get over it. At any rate, the council won’t need to chop it down. I gave it a quick once-over this morning before I came in. It’s not as if he hit another car or wrote off a signpost or something.’
A smart guy, Greg, more efficient than your typical Jack the Lad. Very good at dealing with a crisis. Of course, his reputation suggested he’d had plenty of practice.
‘Do you reckon they should treat it as a specified file?’
Guidelines covered the case of a family member of a serving police officer who was potentially liable to prosecution. Extra care needed to be taken, to avoid any whiff of nepotism.
‘Your guess is as good as mine, but chances are, the answer’s yes. It’s not long since you and Marc were a couple, and you were together a long time.’
‘Too long,’ Hannah said through gritted teeth. ‘I guess the prosecutors will want to avoid any whiff of “he only got away with it because his ex was a DCI.”’
Greg contrived an elaborate sigh. ‘You really don’t find it easy to look on the bright side, do you?’
Already the joy she’d felt in the hospital car park was beginning to evaporate. ‘Has it crossed your mind that sometimes there isn’t a bright side?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Hannah, what are you like?’
She found herself collapsing into a fit of giggles. Absurdly childish, yes, but she couldn’t help herself. Something about him was hard to resist. Better make sure she didn’t find him too irresistible. A repeat of last night was off the agenda. Absolutely, definitely, forever.
‘That’s better.’ He looked her in the eye, his face stripped of any clue to what he was really thinking. ‘Ma’am.’
Robin Park stood in the middle of the breakfast-kitchen, dripping onto the terracotta tiles, a picture of misery. So this was the man who was planning a new life with Hannah’s best friend. Robin was unmistakably handsome, with blue eyes and regular features compensating for the weakness of his chin and limp handshake. Jeffrey fussed around him with the coffee pot, as if not knowing what else to do, but Robin waved him away.
‘We have to find her! Please, I can’t do it all by myself, and there’s no time to lose.’
‘Hang on a minute,’ Quin said. ‘We need to know what we’re dealing with here. When did you realise Terri was missing?’
‘First thing this morning. Oh, I know it’s still early. About an hour ago, I mean. I’d finally managed to get some sleep after spending most of yesterday rushing back and to from the bathroom. My stomach was empty, and I felt like shit.’ Quin nodded, as if to say And you look like it too. ‘I dragged myself out of bed and looked in the other room. Terri had said she’d spend the night there, rather than disturb me after getting back late from the party. Of course, she didn’t fancy catching whatever had knocked me for six.’
‘She wasn’t in the room?’
‘No. I assumed she’d stayed over with Mum instead. I rang her mobile, but there was no answer. So I called Mum and she said Terri saw her back to her cottage last night, then came back on her own to be with me. But … she didn’t.’
He buried his head in his hands. Jeffrey put an arm round him.
‘She’ll be fine, there’s sure to be a simple explanation.’
‘What about her car?’ Quin asked.
‘Still parked outside our front door.’
‘You’re sure she’s not somewhere in Fell View?’
‘Absolutely certain. I’ve looked everywhere, including the coal cellar, just in case she was so pissed she fell down the cellar steps. The garden as well. There’s not a trace of her.’
‘She can’t have gone far.’
Robin rubbed his jacket sleeve across his cheeks. Tears glistened in the blue eyes. He was a professional musician, accustomed to putting on an act, but Daniel was sure there was nothing feigned about his despair. Which didn’t mean it was justified.
‘Last night was Hallowe’en. You know what happens to young women in Ravenbank on Hallowe’en.’
‘Don’t talk like that,’ Quin muttered. ‘There must be some other explanation.’
‘I’ve met Terri before,’ Daniel said. ‘She is a close friend of someone I know, a police inspector.’
Robin stared at him. ‘Hannah Scarlett? Of course! Terri mentioned you to me. You and Hannah … well, it slipped my mind. I’m not thinking straight.’
‘Have you met Hannah?’
‘No, but Terri has … talked about her. She was going to introduce us.’
‘No need for the past tense,’ Daniel said. ‘One thing I do know about Terri is that she’s a joker. This might all be some sort of misguided … well, prank.’
‘No! She wouldn’t do that to me. Not after Hallowe’en, not in Ravenbank of all places.’ Robin’s voice was hoarse. ‘Two women have been killed here, it’s no laughing matter.’
‘Have you spoken to the Knights?’ Jeffrey asked. ‘Could she have gone back to Ravenbank Hall?’
‘For fuck’s sake, why would she do that?’
Jeffrey smoothed the kimono over his knees. ‘We have to consider all the possibilities.’
‘We need to mount a search party. Quin’s right, she can’t be far away. Perhaps she’s slipped, fractured an ankle or something, poor thing.’
‘On her way back from your mother’s place?’ Jeffrey considered. ‘Yes, it’s the likeliest explanation.’
‘I walked up to Beck Cottage before I came here, just to check. There wasn’t a sign of her. Mum’s in a right state. Terri’s like the daughter she never had.’ Robin caught Jeffrey’s sleeve. ‘I suppose she did get legless last night?’
Jeffrey’s eyes met Quin’s for a split second. ‘We all had way too much to drink. It was a party, the Knights are perfect hosts, what do you expect?’
‘Was there any trouble? Terri can’t keep her mouth zipped once she’s started drinking. She doesn’t know … when to stop.’
&n
bsp; ‘Hey, it was all fine. She was in high spirits from start to finish.’ Quin clapped his hands. ‘Come on, we need to get cracking, it won’t do Terri any good to be stuck outside and unable to move in this fucking awful weather.’
‘We’ll come with you,’ Daniel said.
‘Yes,’ Louise said. ‘The more people looking, the sooner we’ll find her.’
‘Let me call the Knights,’ Jeffrey said. ‘Just in case.’ A landline phone sat next to a serving hatch, and he punched in a number. ‘Hello, Melody, is that you? … Fine, now listen, we have Robin here. He’s in a state because Terri has gone AWOL. She hasn’t by any chance come to … Okay, right, just thought I’d check … Yes, it is. We’re setting out to look for her right now.’
He put down the receiver and shook his head. ‘No joy. Let’s get a move on.’
Lancaster University was hosting a symposium on cold case investigations. Representatives from a dozen police forces together with a sampling of forensic experts were there, to add a sprinkling of practical experience to academic theory. Lauren Self had decreed that the budget could stretch to allow Hannah to fly the flag for Cumbria Constabulary. Extolling the Cold Case Review Team’s successes seemed to Hannah a waste of time and money, given Lauren’s determination to rip it into shreds, but at least the jaunt would get her out of the office for a few hours. She’d have the chance to network with oppos from other forces, and might even pick up a few tips to help fight her corner over the cutbacks.
The drive should have taken less than an hour, but the weather doubled the journey time. The ferocity of the downpour had contributed to a couple of accidents on the M6, with three lanes reduced to one, visibility poor, and progress reduced to a crawl. But the hypnotic swish of the windscreen wipers, and the soothing voice of Rumer on the CD player worked as a kind of therapy, allowing Hannah’s mind to wander from the wretchedness of the traffic conditions.
The good news about Marc didn’t quite wash away her guilt about her close encounter with Greg. But the guilt was about letting down herself, not Marc. He didn’t own her; never had, never would. He needed to grow up and get used to the idea of her being with another man.
But what other man? Not Greg, she told herself. It wasn’t appropriate, and she wasn’t his type of woman anyway. In her head, she heard Terri saying she was protesting too much, but what did Terri know? She hadn’t exactly made a success of her love life, and Stefan might be the biggest mistake of them all.
Daniel, then? She tightened her grip on the steering wheel. A long-term relationship was out of the question. Celebrity historian and country bumpkin cop? It didn’t compute.
Why not follow Terri’s example and live for the moment? Thinking long-term hadn’t exactly been a recipe for success, either at home or at work. Look at her now. Relationship shot to pieces, career in suspended animation. Her life was going nowhere, just like the queuing traffic.
With a glance into her mirror, she gave the wheel a sudden wrench, and swerved onto the hard shoulder, accelerating onto the slip road at the next junction. A change of direction was long overdue. She’d throw away the route map. Time to trust her instincts.
Jeffrey assumed command, announcing he was dividing them into two groups. He would lead Daniel and Louise along the paths that meandered around the Fell View side of Ravenbank. Robin and Quin were to search the area on the other side of the lane. The plan was to meet up outside the entrance to Ravenbank Hall once they’d covered every inch of ground between Watendlath and the Knights’ mansion.
‘You don’t think she and Robin had a row, and that explains why he missed the party?’ Louise asked.
Jeffrey stopped in his tracks. ‘Can’t see it – unless the row was in the early hours, after she left Miriam and went back home. Terri was in great form yesterday. But Robin’s an easy-going fellow, and he and Terri seem to get on like a house on fire.’
The wind was driving the rain into their faces, and the paths were thick with mud. Trees swayed like creatures from another world, taking part in a slow ritual dance. The moist smell of autumn earth and leaves filled Daniel’s sinuses. Louise thrust her cold hand into his, and he gave an answering squeeze. He guessed she was remembering the ghost hunt, and Terri’s boozy cheerfulness.
‘We’re almost at Ravenbank Corner,’ Jeffrey called over his shoulder, and soon they emerged from the wood, close to where they had looked in vain for Gertrude Smith’s ghost. ‘Given that Robin has already walked up and down the lane, let’s take the path by the beck, and follow it round to the lake. We’ll come full circle before we cut across to the Hall.’
He stomped over to a well-worn pathway carpeted with leaves. Like the narrow beck, it disappeared into the trees they had staggered past the night before.
‘Daniel,’ Louise whispered. ‘What do you think has happened to her?’
‘Let’s not waste time speculating. We need to concentrate on finding her.’
‘You reckon she’s had an accident?’
‘It’s better than the alternative.’
‘You heard what Robin said about women in Ravenbank on Hallowe’en.’
‘Come on, we need to catch up with Jeffrey.’
They’d lost sight of him, but as they reached the path on the other side of the lane, they heard a loud shriek of pain, as if someone had shoved a knife into his heart.
‘Oh God,’ Louise whispered.
They ran into the wood. Jeffrey was twenty feet away, his back turned to them. Head bowed, he stood on the path close to the beck. He was staring at something in a dip in the ground, between the stream and Ravenbank Lane.
‘What is it?’ Daniel demanded.
Jeffrey turned to face them, his pudgy cheeks drained of colour.
‘A body, no signs of movement. I’m sure she’s dead.’ He was gasping for breath. ‘There’s something else. I can’t believe my own eyes.’
Daniel moved forward. He saw it for his own eyes at the same instant Jeffrey spoke again.
‘The face is covered with a blanket. And it’s soaked with blood.’
Hannah arrived at the campus in time to catch the tail end of the morning session of the symposium. A rotund Cornishman who looked more like a farmer than a forensic entomologist was speaking. His mission was to explain why the government’s decision to close the loss-making Forensic Science Service and contract the work out to the private sector was an enlightened example of forward-thinking, guaranteed to improve crime detection. A glance at the programme revealed that the speaker moonlighted from his university duties as a director of the company which was lead sponsor of the symposium. The firm provided analytical services to the police, and boasted every conceivable kitemark, as well, no doubt, as a fee tariff to match. No wonder the chap seemed so pleased with life.
Over an unexpectedly tasty lunch of pollo alla cacciatora, she chatted with colleagues from forces in the Midlands. They were appalled to hear that Lauren was butchering her team, but unsurprised. Nothing and nobody was sacred, given the government’s insistence on slashing the deficit the bankers had inflicted on the country. God knew where it was all going to end. As for their pensions …
‘DCI Scarlett?’
A thin, bespectacled woman, from her badge a member of the university staff, was bending over her shoulder so as to peer at her name tag.
‘That’s me.’
The woman coughed. Her demeanour suggested a lifetime spent apologising for things that weren’t her fault. ‘So sorry to disturb your lunch, but there is someone to see you.’
Hannah gave a wistful glance at the meringue sitting in front of her. It was simply begging to be eaten.
‘Give me five minutes?’
‘I’m afraid she says it’s very urgent.’ A nervous titter. ‘I don’t think it can wait.’
The cops from the Midlands exchanged glances. Hannah read their minds. Sounds like that cow she works for has gone on the warpath. For God’s sake, was there no escape?
Hannah stood up. ‘Excuse me, lads
. Back in a tick. Don’t let them nick my dessert.’
She followed as the woman trotted through the crowded dining area. Lauren must want another chat about the team restructure. It had to be bad news, but Hannah reckoned she’d made it through the pain barrier. She felt in the mood to cope with anything.
But – why drag her out to the phone? Why not call her mobile?
‘Your colleague is waiting for you in the overseas admissions tutor’s room,’ the woman said.
Hannah halted in mid-stride. Lauren wouldn’t have come all the way out here. Surely Greg hadn’t taken it into his head to turn up?
‘Did my colleague give a name?’
The woman tittered again; it was like a nervous reaction. Her manner suggested she’d just been arrested for a crime of which she knew nothing.
‘Detective Chief Inspector Larter.’
Fern? It made no sense. Hannah shrugged and the woman led her down a long corridor. At the final door, she ventured a timid knock before stepping back to let Hannah through.
Fern sat on the near side of an imposing teak desk. She’d crammed her considerable bulk into one of a pair of chairs apparently designed for size zero students. Her face was creased with pain, as though every joint in her body hurt. She struggled to her feet, and motioned for Hannah’s guide to leave. With a nervous titter of farewell, the bespectacled woman shut the door on them.
‘What’s all this about, Fern?’ Hannah sounded angry, but really she was just bewildered.
Fern put a hand on Hannah’s shoulder. ‘Sit down, kid. I’m so sorry. There simply isn’t an easy way to give you this news.’
‘Marc? But the doctor said …’
Fern shook her head. ‘Nothing to do with Marc.’
Something in her friend’s expression, a sorrowful compassion she’d never seen before, frightened Hannah more than any words. She felt a choking sensation.
‘What?’ she whispered.
‘It’s Terri.’ Fern cleared her throat; tears glinted in her eyes. ‘Her body was found near Ullswater this morning. Someone has battered her to death.’
The Frozen Shroud Page 14