FIFTY-NINE

They didn’t even get as far as Cornish’s office. After ten minutes making small talk to a desk officer, he came down to greet them, showed them through to what was basically a waiting room just off the main reception area. He seemed cheerful enough, puffing happily on his e-cigarette as he talked, like he was happy to be taking a break from proper police work.

Thorne said, ‘You saw Aurora Harley this morning.’

‘Yeah, she told me she’d spoken to you.’ Cornish looked at his watch. It was just after eleven thirty. ‘You don’t waste a lot of time, do you?’

‘She said you didn’t take her seriously.’

Cornish shook his head. ‘Not true. Kids like to exaggerate, don’t they?’ He was sitting on a plastic chair. He hooked a second one with his boot and pulled it into line so that he could put his feet up. ‘Look, I did exactly what anyone else would have done. What you would have done, I’m sure. The girl was interviewed, a statement was taken and we’re in the process of passing everything on to the CPS, but in all honesty it’s not like we’re holding the front page. I can’t see anything she told us changing the focus of this investigation or of the forthcoming prosecution.’ He took another hit of his e-cig, hummed with pleasure as the tip glowed blue. ‘You know you can get these in different flavours, right?’ He held it up. ‘This is cappuccino. You get a fag and a cup of coffee at the same time.’

‘Why doesn’t it change anything?’

‘Sorry?’

‘What she told you.’

‘She was all over the place for a start,’ Cornish said. ‘She couldn’t give us any real details. She couldn’t remember what was on TV in the pub that night, couldn’t even remember the name of the pub.’

‘I was in some pub a couple of days ago,’ Thorne said. ‘Had lunch there. Couldn’t tell you what the place was called, but I’m sure you’re not going to call me a liar.’

‘Listen, I’m perfectly willing to believe that Bates was giving her one, but if that’s the case, she’d say anything to get him off, wouldn’t she?’

‘No, I don’t believe she would.’

‘You telling me you’ve never questioned an alibi from a loved one? Most of the time they’re no better than prison confessions.’

‘So why didn’t she come forward straight away?’

‘God knows.’ He smiled, tapped the end of his e-cig against his teeth. ‘Maybe she was busy with exams or something.’

‘I reckon it took her that long to pluck up the courage,’ Thorne said. ‘It took a lot of guts.’

‘And I’m grateful that she did come forward.’

Thorne looked at him.

‘I mean, it confirms that Bates likes teenage girls, doesn’t it? If anything, it makes the case against him stronger, so I suppose I should thank you for pointing her in our direction.’

Hendricks had said nothing, sitting there looking at his phone as though he was paying little attention to the exchange. Now, he said, ‘Just so you know, when we prove that Bates didn’t kill Jessica Toms, that he didn’t abduct anybody, we won’t be making a song and dance about it. When your mug is all over the front of the paper because you’re the copper that got it wrong and there are lawsuits flying about faster than shit off a shiny shovel, we won’t bother marching back in here to tell you what a bollocks you made of the whole investigation. Fair enough?’ He smiled. ‘We’re happy to leave that to somebody else.’

Cornish blinked. He had clearly felt on safe ground jousting with Thorne, but something about Hendricks – his manner perhaps, the threat in his appearance and in that nice friendly smile – seemed to disconcert him for a moment or two. ‘Prove it, how?’ he said.

‘Whoever killed Jessica Toms disguised the time of death,’ Hendricks said. ‘He planted insects on the body to make it look like she’d died a lot earlier than she actually had. Like Bates had killed her as soon as she’d been taken.’ Cornish raised a hand, trying to get in, but Hendricks wouldn’t let him. ‘It’s why the body was partially burned. Just enough to open the skin, give the bugs something to feed on. All so it would look like Bates, so it’ll still look like it was Bates when he kills the next girl.’

Cornish shook his head, as though this was one piece of foolishness he simply could not allow to stand. ‘Poppy Johnston is dead, we all know that.’

‘So, why haven’t you found her?’ Thorne did not bother waiting for an answer. ‘Same reason you didn’t find Jessica, not until the man who killed her wanted you to. Because she isn’t there to find. Not yet.’

‘And when she is, you’re telling me she’ll be crawling with these bugs that actually came from somewhere else.’

‘We might be able to prevent that,’ Thorne said. ‘If you’d stop being a smartarse and listen to what we’re telling you.’

Cornish took a drag, hissed out coffee-flavoured smoke and thought about it. ‘Where did all these incriminating insects come from?’

Thorne looked at Hendricks. Do you want to tell him, or shall I?

Hendricks told him.

‘Christ, I think I’ve heard it all now.’

‘So, easy enough to prove, see? Just a question of extracting some nice porky DNA from one of those bugs.’

‘Right, and who’s doing that for you?’

‘I’ve got one or two contacts,’ Hendricks said. He and Thorne had talked about this on the way there. If Cornish went for it, they would happily hand everything over, make the job Liam Southworth was doing every bit as official as he wanted. If not, they weren’t going to volunteer anything, let Cornish think Hendricks had a fully equipped mobile DNA unit parked in a lay-by somewhere.

Cornish tucked his e-cigarette into his top pocket and swung his legs to the floor. ‘Let’s go mad for a minute, shall we, and assume all that stuff happened . . . the dead pig and the bugs being planted on Jessica Toms’ body. I still don’t see why it couldn’t have been Bates that did it?’

‘What?’ Thorne had been unprepared for this.

‘Why not?’

‘Give me one good reason why he’d do any of that.’

‘I don’t need one,’ Cornish said. ‘We’re talking about someone who abducts young girls, does whatever horrible things he does, then murders them and dumps their bodies. These are not ordinary people, Tom, you know that as well as I do.’ He let that hang for a few seconds while he got to his feet. ‘They don’t do things for “good” reasons.’

‘Even you must know how lame that sounds,’ Thorne said. ‘How convenient.’

Cornish shook his head. ‘They’re twisted, simple as that, and the day I start to understand why they do anything is the day I start looking for another job.’

Now Thorne stood up too, and walked across to put himself between Cornish and the door.

‘Don’t be a knob.’ Cornish sighed, fastened his jacket and looked from Thorne to Hendricks. ‘First you show up, then your tattooed mate . . . honestly, it’s like the bloody circus has come to town. Clowns and freaks. Round here, we’re just ordinary coppers doing a decent job and whatever you think, that means trying to prove someone’s innocent every bit as much as trying to prove they’re guilty. Like it or not, this time we got the job done.’ He stared at Thorne, waiting for him to move.

Hendricks walked quickly across and dropped a hand on to Thorne’s shoulder, all smiles. ‘Now, I’ve got thick skin,’ he said. ‘Thick, freaky skin, so I don’t take offence easily. But my mate here . . . well, why don’t I just move him out of your way, before he kicks your teeth in with those big clown shoes of his?’

Thorne stepped aside and watched Cornish move quickly past him towards the door. ‘You didn’t do the job properly,’ he said.

Hendricks asked Thorne to drive him back to Polesford. He was going to collect his stuff from Paula’s, pick up his car, then drive straight back to Liam Southworth’s place in Warwick.

‘He gave me a key,’ Hendricks told him, beaming. ‘I mean, it’s probably best if I’m on the spot when his mate in the lab comes through for us. Plus, he’s got a massive flat-screen TV . . . ’

In slow traffic on the M42, Thorne said, ‘Do you think we rattled him?’

‘Cornish? Oh, yeah, I reckon so.’ Hendricks looked across, saw Thorne’s expression. ‘You wanted him to give us the bum’s rush, didn’t you?’

‘We’ve made a better job of it than he has so far, haven’t we?’

‘Not bad for a clown and a freak,’ Hendricks said.

‘A freak with thick skin, remember.’ Thorne glanced at his friend and smiled. He knew better than anyone how thin that elaborately decorated skin really was. ‘How badly did you want to punch him?’

‘I wanted to shove that stupid pretend fag up his arse.’ Hendricks turned to look out of the window for a few seconds, then put his head back. ‘That stuff about people who were not “ordinary” and you knowing that as well as he did. That was about Bardsey, wasn’t it?’

‘He brought it up first time I met him,’ Thorne said. ‘Wanted me to know he’d done his homework.’

Hendricks nodded. Said, ‘That thing’s going up his arse sideways.’

Thorne grinned, but he had no way of knowing what DI Tim Cornish would do with the information they’d given him, how long he would wait before trying to take over or shut them down. Thorne could only hope they got what they needed in the time they had left.

Hendricks began to sing quietly, murdering ‘Send In The Clowns’ as they inched forward and waited for the traffic to clear.