Five minutes. Ten minutes. Fifteen. And still no sign. In and out of the garages and bodyshops. The supermarkets and minicab offices. But everywhere the same – a look at the photo and a polite shake of the head.
Then a disturbance in the street. Calls for help. A woman lying prostrate on the ground. Charlie covered the distance in seconds to find a young woman in a very bad way. Crazed eyes, blood streaming from cuts on her face. But nothing to do with her. A pissed-up local girl on the receiving end of her violent boyfriend’s displeasure. As uniform led the protesting offender away, Charlie returned to the hunt.
Twenty minutes. Thirty minutes. And still radio silence. Charlie cursed her luck. What was it with this woman that she could disappear into thin air? She was sure Reeves wasn’t lying to her about the location – she’d had to wrench the information out of her – so where the hell was she? She’d give it another thirty minutes, maybe more. Something had to turn up.
It started to rain. Gently at first, then big heavy drops, then a sudden attack of hail. As the ice bounced off Charlie’s sodden hair, she cursed her luck. But things were about to get a lot worse.
‘Call off the search.’
Charlie spun round. Helen had arrived. And she didn’t look happy.
They didn’t speak on their way back to the police station. No explanation about why the search had been called off, nor the expected admonishment for losing the prime suspect (twice). Charlie didn’t know what was going on and she didn’t like it. For the first time in her life she realized what it felt like to be picked up by the police. To be a suspect. Charlie desperately wanted to talk, to dispel her nervousness and find out what was going on. But that clearly wasn’t an option. So she sat and suffered in silence imagining a thousand dark scenarios.
They walked through the nick in silence. Helen commandeered an interview room and switched off her mobile. The two women stared at each other.
‘Why did you become a police officer, Charlie?’
Fuck, it was bad. If that was the opening question, she clearly was in deep.
‘To do my bit. Catch the bad guys.’
‘And do you think you’re a good police officer?’
‘Of course.’
A long silence, then:
‘Tell me about Hannah Mickery. And how you let her go.’
Charlie wasn’t going to rise to that one. Whatever was thrown at her, she must keep calm. Everything could depend on that. So Charlie told her about how Hannah had outwitted her. About how they had lost her. No point dressing things up when she was clearly already in serious trouble.