Daniels hovered outside the interview room. She was experienced enough to recognize when an interviewee was ready to give up his secrets and, in her considered opinion, any further questioning of Harris at this time was unlikely to bear fruit.
‘Lodge him in the cells,’ she told Gormley. ‘He’s giving us fuck all. What time are we meeting Dave Weldon?’
‘An hour?’ Gormley checked his watch. ‘Actually, we’d better get a move on.’
They waited until the custody sergeant had taken charge of Harris. Then Daniels led Gormley out of the station and into the car park. They argued over whose car to take and finally tossed a coin. With a big smile on her face, Daniels unlocked her Toyota and got in – Gormley’s new toy would have to wait.
It was a lovely day, bright sunshine and a cloudless sky, and for that Daniels was grateful. A change in the weather might represent imminent danger to Jessica Finch if, as they suspected, she was being held underground. Unclipping her sunglasses from the visor above her head, Daniels put them on and moved off. They had been in the car about half an hour when her mobile rang, a number she didn’t recognize. She answered, leaving the phone on loudspeaker.
‘DCI Daniels, this is Alec Walton.’
‘What can I do for you, Mr Walton?’
‘I was hoping to catch you before you left the station. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of Mark Harris – or me, come to think of it. You should know he acted against my advice during questioning.’
‘I’m relieved to hear it. Next you’ll be telling me that he has a legitimate explanation for his contact with Rachel Somers.’
‘I assure you that is the case. He knows about your missing teenagers and he’s scared. Understandable, don’t you think?’
‘Or he’s as guilty as sin,’ Gormley muttered under his breath.
Daniels dug him in the ribs, lifting a finger to her lips to shut him up. He grinned at her, holding out a pack of gum. She shook her head. He took one for himself then put the packet back on the dash.
Changing down, Daniels negotiated a left hander.
‘Watch out!’ Gormley yelled.
Daniels braked sharply as two young females stepped off the pavement without looking, one with a mobile stuck to her ear, the other pushing a stroller with a newborn baby inside and a toddler riding a buggy board. The little boy was around three years old with the face of an angel and a mischievous expression in big brown eyes. He waved at her as they passed in front of the car and got a slap from his mother for letting go of the handle straps.
The DCI wanted to stop and give her a piece of her mind but didn’t have time.
‘DCI Daniels?’ Walton’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Depends, is Harris ready to talk?’
‘Ready might be a bit too strong a word—’
‘Listen to me, Mr Walton. If your client is going to front up and tell me the truth I’ll happily come back and interview him. I’ve got two missing girls and a dead one. So if he’s going to piss me about, he’ll have a long wait. By all means relay that message to him and in the meantime the custody sergeant will review his detention.’
Walton didn’t respond.
‘I’ll wait to hear from you then.’ Daniels ended the call abruptly.
‘That went well.’ Gormley grinned. ‘It’s not like you to be so arsy.’
‘Yeah, well, I’m a bit sick of being messed around, Hank. A life is at stake – two potentially – and time-wasting bastards like Harris make my blood boil. He can wait now until I’m good and ready.’
‘You think he’s our man?’
‘He’s hiding something.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
‘Could we be that lucky? I honestly don’t know if he is or not.’
They drove on in silence until they reached a signpost: A689 Nenthead and Killhope. Daniels followed it, joining a minor road, very narrow in parts. As they travelled further still, the atmosphere both inside the car and out became heavy and the sunshine disappeared. Daniels looked up at the sky. A huge black mass of cloud had formed up ahead.
‘Don’t think I’m going to need these any more.’ Taking off her shades, she hung them over the visor.
Gormley didn’t answer. He’d fallen asleep.
As Daniels drove on, the landscape changed. Rolling hills and valleys were replaced by wilder and more rugged terrain. Snow poles flashed by on either side of the road, testament to the extreme conditions encountered there in winter. And suddenly there was a crack of thunder so loud it damn near shook the Toyota from its chassis.
Gormley snorted, waking with a start.
Daniels switched on the wipers as the heavens opened. But even at full pelt they were hardly able to cope with the water raining down on them. Gormley yawned. Leaning forward, he peered through the windscreen at the sight of lights ahead. A cluster of vehicles – all Land Rover Defenders – were parked off the road about half a mile away. Daniels drove towards them, eventually pulling up alongside. Each vehicle bore the logo of the North Pennines Fell Rescue.
Someone they couldn’t identify waved through the steamed-up window of the lead vehicle. He leapt out and ran to the rear of the Toyota, water pouring off him as he opened the rear door and climbed in. Weldon was wearing waterproof combat pants, a red cagoule with the hood pulled tight around his face and a white safety helmet protruding from beneath.
His expression was grave as the hood came off.
Pulling down the heavy zip of his cagoule he revealed a whistle, a GPS and a pair of binoculars round his neck. The latter he handed to Daniels, her side window being the least exposed to the driving rain. Lifting them to her eyes, she brought them into focus. Panning the landscape, her morale took a dive. The rough ground she was looking at was dotted with shaft mounds, spoil heaps and old mine workings as far as the eye could see. Worse still, gentle streams were forming into raging torrents of white water, splashing and bubbling all over the place. Just what she didn’t need.