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  The hairdresser came back to check the wraps on her hair and declared that she was done, sending her off to be washed and conditioned, ready for the cut and blow dry. Petra slipped her phone back in her bag. When she got out of here, she’d give Billy a call, arrange to meet for dinner or something. She needed to be visible and present, she knew if anybody asked Gail, she would tell them she had stayed with her, but she could not push it too far.

  Suddenly Petra felt anxious, shaky. The feeling only lasted seconds but she had learned to take notice of these little warnings, of what her intuition and experience were telling her. Things were moving too fast, the worlds of the Sykes and the Perrins were about to collide, and not in the controlled fashion that Kyle Sykes had envisioned with the marriage of his child to theirs. Billy had told her that Perrin had been biding his time, that he was seeing this as an opportunity to take Sykes out of the picture, to move into his territory. Old Gus won’t settle for a merger. Only a takeover will do. Billy had been amused at the thought.

  He had also told her that Perrin had given Sykes fourteen days to track down his daughter and bring her to heel. And that, Petra knew, meant that Perrin wanted her wiped off the face of the earth. An eye for an eye, a death for a death.

  She came out of the hairdresser’s salon pleased with the results. She was not really a natural blonde, at least not the glossy “just walked out of a fashion magazine” kind of blonde that Billy Hunter admired, and it was always an effort to maintain. Now her colour had been refreshed and the cut shaped to more of a pixie than simple bob, she would look good for Saturday. She already had a dress and shoes lined up but she could do with a bag. Maybe she should take Billy shopping, get him to buy a nice little something for her. After all, it was a big night for his boss’s daughter. Carole Josephs’s private viewing at a fancy gallery. Billy would want her to look the part. He’d want his Pat on show and dressed up to the nines.

  Chapter 25

  The body of Harry Prentice had been identified, connections had been made and Clarke found himself heading north. Photographs of the crime scene had been emailed to him and he had recognized the injuries at once. He also recognized the name of the man who had been taken to hospital. Joe Messenger was not expected to survive, but he wasn’t dead yet, and so the hospital was his first port of call.

  At the main entrance, he was met by a uniformed constable who took him up to the ward, signed him in and introduced him to the deputy SIO, a pale, freckled redheaded young man by the name of Mark Reynolds.

  “We’ll go straight in and talk after, if that’s all right with you. The victim is awake, not totally lucid, but you might be able to get something out of him.”

  Clarke nodded. “I know Joe. If he recognizes me, it’s possible he might talk. On the other hand, he might recognize me and clam up.”

  Reynolds grinned at him. “Never can tell. This way.” He led Clarke past the main ward and through a side room that looked as if it was used for storage. It presently contained a lot of high-tech-looking equipment and an armed police officer. A second armed officer stood inside a small room at the back, which had the look of a space cleared in a hurry and improvised as a secure area.

  Joe lay on the bed surrounded by equipment that bleeped and flashed and to which he was connected by a rat’s nest of wires and tubes. Clarke sat down beside the bed and touched the old man’s hand. “Joe? Joe, can you open your eyes for me? Joe, it’s DI Clarke, we’ve met a time or two. Can you hear me?”

  Watery eyes opened and the head turned just a fraction. Joe blinked twice and tried to focus his eyes on Clarke’s face. “I know you,” the voice was little more than a whisper. Then, more hopefully, “Harry?”

  “I’m sorry, Joe. Harry didn’t make it.”

  “What about the girl? This lot won’t tell me nothing.”

  “The girl?”

  He glanced at Reynolds, who was about to speak. Clarke held up a hand to stop him. He wanted to keep Joe’s attention — the old man did not have much focus or energy to spare. “Was Lauren Sykes with him, Joe? Was she with Harry?”

  “Must have been. Her dad reckoned she was. That’s why they went up there. That’s why they dragged me with them. I gave Harry away. I never meant to. Never thought I’d told them anything what mattered.”

  He closed his eyes again and seemed to fall asleep. Clarke noted that the rhythm of the monitors had changed and he glanced over at the nurse observing.

  “I think that’s all you’ll get,” she said. “He’s in a lot of pain and is heavily sedated. We ease off on the sedation every so often, just so we can monitor his obs properly, but we have to increase it again before the pain kicks in. You’ve caught him at the right moment but it can’t last.”

  Clarke touched Joe’s hand again and called his name. “Joe? Joe, can you stay with me just a little bit longer? Joe, did you see the girl? Did Harry say where she’d gone?”

  Joe didn’t open his eyes but a smile twitched his lips. “Ran off into the dunes, I should think. Harry didn’t know. Sykes sent men out after her, but then you lot arrived. Girl must’ve called the cavalry.”

  Joe’s face grew slack and it was obvious that they wouldn’t get anything more from him.

  Reynolds led the way back out. “So this Lauren Sykes was definitely there. We’re hoping you will fill in the rest of the story. We’ve got one man dead and two badly injured, plus the old guy in there. We’re keeping a lid on it at the moment. The cottage is so remote that as far as the media is concerned, it was a suspicious death and a bit of a road traffic accident. But that story won’t hold for ever. The last thing we want is the idea that gang warfare’s come up from the Midlands. This is a low-crime area, or was until last night. Frankly, we don’t have the resources for something like this.”

  Clarke nodded sympathetically. He glanced out the window and noted that it was getting dark already. “I’d like to take a look as soon as. Any point in going out there now?”

  “Boss wants you to come to the briefing, tell the troops what the hell is going on. I’ll take you out there first thing in the morning, that way you can see the scene in daylight. It’s pitch-black out there at night and that’s probably what saved the girl. If she got out of the cottage and hid in the dunes, she’d have been hard to find just because of the dark.”

  “And you found no sign of her?”

  “A pair of socks, sweatshirt, and a few bits of sea glass on the windowsill. We’re guessing she picked them up. Not likely something the old man would have done.”

  “Briefing it is, then,” said Clarke. “Do you have the emergency call? I’d like to listen to it.” He wondered if he’d recognize the voice.

  “Sure, but I can’t think it would be your girl who made the call. It came in from a burner phone, which is what you’d expect, but if Lauren Sykes was up here, then she couldn’t have made it. The provider reckons it came in from your neck of the woods.”

  “Really?” That put a different slant on things. Who had Lauren called?

  “And your girl is what, seventeen?”

  Clarke nodded.

  “I’ve listened to the call and I’d reckon it for an older woman. Muffled, like she was trying to disguise her voice.”

  “But the handler took it seriously, despite that?”

  Reynolds nodded. “The handler was reluctant. You know we’ve got to check these things out if firearms might be involved, but—”

  “But you didn’t just check it out, you sent a full team.” Clarke looked curiously at Reynolds. “So?”

  “So the woman gave a code word and a contact. The code checked out, the contact said we should throw in everything we’d got. So we did. One man is now dead and another critical. What have your girl and that old man brought up to my patch, DI Clarke?”

  “Right now, your guess is as good as mine,” Clarke told him.

  Chapter 26

  News of Joseph Messenger’s death came through to Clarke as he was driving back to the hotel after the brie
fing. He immediately diverted to the hospital. He arrived to find Joe’s wife sitting at his bedside. The machinery around him no longer beeped and flashed and the tubes and wires had been extracted from Joe’s body. Now there was only the old man, his arms tucked somewhat unnaturally under the bed clothes and the sheets pulled up to his chin.

  Ruby Messenger had arrived only a few minutes before he died. When Clarke had left home for the journey up here, no one had been able to track her down, though Hopkins had still been trying. The neighbours had said they thought she’d gone to her sisters and this turned out to be the case, but the sister lived twenty-five miles away, and the address had not been immediately to hand. When Hopkins had finally tracked her down, she had gone to fetch her. The young DC stood behind Mrs Messenger, a hand resting gently on her shoulder and a look of shock on her face.

  “I drove her up here,” Hopkins told Clarke. “Sir, it seemed like the quickest way. It took me ages to find her.”

  “You did a good job,” Clarke told her.

  Ruby’s hand reached up and took that of the young officer. They held on to each other as though they were both family. Death can do that, Clarke thought. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Did you see what they did to him?”

  “I did, yes.”

  “And Harry?”

  “The same.” Clarke didn’t feel the need to go into detail. He pulled up a chair on the opposite side of the bed, and then asked, “What happened? Can you tell me?”

  For a moment, she seemed not to understand the question. Then she said, “Kyle Sykes came for him, he and some of his men. They had come from Charlie Perrin’s wake. He’d come before, to see Joe, wanting to know where Harry was and the girl. Sykes’s daughter. Joe sent me upstairs out of the way the first time, and the second time told me to go back into the living room, but I’ve got ears and I can draw my own conclusions. I knew he wouldn’t be coming back this time. And I was scared, so I went to my sister’s, but I didn’t plan to stop there for long. I just knew Joe would not be coming back this time.”

  “So Kyle Sykes asked about Harry and his daughter.”

  Ruby shook her head. “He wanted to know where Harry was, he figured Joe might know because the two of them had been friends for such a long time. Joe didn’t know, but he told Kyle Sykes about the time when Harry went away after his wife died. He was devastated when Jean went and he just took off. Joe wanted to know where he’d got to, but I don’t think Harry really remembered. But he must have told Joe enough though. Sykes guessed the rest.”

  “What time did they turn up to take Joe away?”

  “Gone eleven. It must have been. We’d normally have been in bed, but we stayed up watching some daft film. Besides, Joe couldn’t seem to settle. He’d not been sleeping. He said it was Harry’s fault, Harry running off like that, and he guessed that he’d taken Lauren with him — otherwise, why would Sykes be bothered?”

  “So Kyle Sykes came and asked where Harry and Lauren might have got to?” Clarke confirmed.

  “No, that wasn’t it. He didn’t mention Lauren. That’s what Joe said after: that Lauren had gone missing and that she must have gone to Harry for help.”

  “Did Joe know why Lauren had gone missing? Did he know why she needed Harry’s help?”

  Ruby pursed her lips as though she’d already said too much and was regretting it. “You know he’ll be able to prove he was nowhere near where Joe died, don’t you?”

  “Sykes? I suppose he’ll do his best to prove that. But you can testify that he came for Joe, took Joe away with some of his men, that—”

  She was shaking her head. “I’d stand up in court and say that, but what would it prove? It would prove that Sykes came with some of his men, and Joe went off with them. And there would be a dozen witnesses to say that Joe simply went back to his place for a drink, or to discuss business, or any other thing that Sykes might decide he would make up. He’d have double and triple alibis. Alibis enough to drown in.”

  “There might be forensics.”

  She laughed. “Have you ever known him to be that careless? If he had been, he’d be banged up by now, and you know it. There’s enough of you working on that, isn’t there? A fat lot of good it’s done any of you.”

  “This time, they had to leave in a hurry,” Clarke told her. “This time, they didn’t have the opportunity to clean up the scene. That’s probably why Joe was still alive when the ambulance got there.”

  Ruby was considering again, her lips pursed tight and her eyes narrowed as she looked at Clarke. There was something hopeful in that look.

  “He only needs to get careless once, Ruby.”

  The hopeful look faded. “And how many years have you been waiting for him to get careless just that once?”

  “This time is different.”

  “This time will be different,” she told him. “Lauren defied him, and she went and killed Charlie Perrin, so, yes, this time will be different. I don’t think he’s been this bad, not this blazing, since Lauren’s mum died, and we all know how well your lot did in stopping Kyle Sykes that time.”

  Clarke let the criticism slide. “What makes you think Lauren killed Charlie Perrin?”

  Ruby’s laugh was bitter and derisive. “If you can’t put that together, what the hell hope do you have of tripping up Kyle Sykes?”

  Clarke organized a hotel for Hopkins and for Ruby Messenger. He booked it with his own credit card and told Hopkins to make sure the pair of them had something to eat and checked that the young DC had cash for petrol for the way home. Hopkins looked exhausted, Clarke noticed, but she’d gone up considerably in his estimation. As they prepared to leave the hospital, he drew her aside. “Don’t be surprised if she is not there in the morning,” he said.

  Hopkins looked shocked. “What do you mean?”

  “Her husband is dead, his ex-boss is on the rampage looking for revenge, and he won’t care what innocents get caught up in that. Ruby knows the score, she got here in time to say goodbye to her man, and that’s thanks to you. But she won’t hang around. And if she is gone in the morning, it won’t be your fault.”

  “But should I . . . I mean she’s a witness. We should statement her at least.”

  “We should, so get that done, just so we’ve ticked the boxes. As Ruby said, all the statement will prove is that Kyle Sykes and some of his colleagues collected Joe on the night of Charlie Perrin’s wake. If this gets to court, if we managed to put it together enough that Kyle Sykes comes up before a judge charged with Joe’s and Harry’s deaths, then we’ll track her down and bring her back to give evidence. She’s got family up in Edinburgh — Ruby was a Maguire before she married Joe and now he’s dead, that’s where she’ll go.”

  “Won’t Sykes know that?”

  “He will, but he won’t risk going up against the Maguires, he’s not quite that stupid. Sykes won’t piss off the Maguires just to get to someone’s widow. Even Kyle Sykes doesn’t want that kind of turf war.” And we certainly don’t, Clarke thought.

  “Could Lauren have gone up there? She must have known Joe Messenger and his wife, maybe she reached out?”

  Clarke shook his head. “The Maguires would hand her back in a heartbeat. Ruby’s one of their own and therefore still has the right to claim protection. Lauren Sykes is nothing to them. They’d not risk upsetting the status quo over a teenage girl.”

  He made his way to his own hotel, noting that it was after ten and therefore the restaurant would be closed, so he ordered room service. He put the television on and laid out his case notes, folders, photographs and laptop, then sat down on the bed in the middle of it all. When his food arrived, he dumped that on the bed too and ate a sausage baguette while re-examining the crime scene photographs.

  Harry must have known the risk he was taking, Clarke thought, in trying to protect the girl. This all left one big question — where the hell was Lauren Sykes now?

  Chapter 27

  Lauren woke in the almost dark. She’d fall
en into a deep sleep and the only light in the room was a polluted yellow glow from the city seeping in through the window. When she had fallen asleep it had been daylight and the curtains were still open. It took her a moment to remember where she was, and then another to work out what had woken her. It was someone passing her room to get to theirs, drunk and laughing and falling against the walls and doors. She got off the bed and checked that her door was securely locked, then switched on the lights and drew the curtains. She suddenly realized that tears were pouring down her cheeks and her body was soon wracked with sobs, relief, grief, and a whole shipload of other emotions that she had not allowed herself to feel until now. She didn’t want to feel them now, but it was as though her brain and body had finally given in and the tears would not stop. She lay down on the bed again and wrapped herself in the quilt and wept until she was absolutely exhausted. “Harry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

  But it was no good being sorry, was it? What was done was done, and there was no way she could change that. All the sorry in the world would not help.

  She took a deep breath and went into the bathroom and washed her face. Looking in the mirror, she could see that her cheeks were blotchy, her eyes red and sore. When she’d been younger, she’d always envied women who could cry pretty tears. She splashed her face again and dried it. What was it Harry had said? “You’ve got to keep up with your normal.” Right, so what was normal? She left the bathroom, switched on the television, and made herself a cup of tea. On the way to the hotel, Petra had bought supplies — teabags and coffee, a small carton of milk and a lot of biscuits.

  “Just in case you’re there for a day or two,” she’d told Lauren. “That way, it doesn’t matter if you don’t get your tea and coffee topped up in your room.”