‘When were you going to tell me that Mark Heckenburg’s in the frame for murder?’ Commander Laycock demanded.
Gemma glanced round from where she was loading paperwork into the boot of her BMW. At this late hour, her vehicle was the only one present on the lower personnel car park. Laycock’s had to be around here somewhere, though he’d come upon her unawares.
She continued sorting her stuff. ‘He’s not in the frame for it, as such.’
‘Of course he’s in the frame for it.’ Laycock waved a three-sheet fax with a Greater Manchester Police logo at the top. ‘There’s more than enough evidence to arrest him right here.’
‘Well, for one thing, we don’t know where he is.’
‘Have you looked?’
‘Yes.’
‘And yet strangely enough you haven’t found him.’
‘We’re not running the murder enquiry, Sir. GMP are.’
‘I know they are. I’ve had a certain Detective Superintendent Smethurst bending my ear on and off all day. Apparently this isn’t just a murder anymore. Late last night they lost a potential witness and the two uniforms who were guarding him got badly hurt.’ Laycock looked genuinely angry. His cheeks had paled until they were almost white – but then, as she already knew, he was a consummate actor. ‘What’s going on, Gemma?’
‘I don’t know, Sir.’
‘You sure of that? Only it doesn’t seem to be worrying you a great deal.’
She shrugged, closed her boot. ‘What can I say? Heck’s a maverick. This incident could be connected to any one of a number of cases that he’s investigated over the years.’
‘He’s been fitted up, you mean?’
‘Or it’s some kind of misunderstanding.’ She moved round to the driver’s door, but Laycock followed and put a hand on it, stopping her from climbing in.
‘Gemma, I’d really hate to think Heck was still working on this missing women case.’ They regarded each other steadily. ‘He is, isn’t he?’
‘He had some new information. I authorised him to check it out.’
‘Why wasn’t I informed?’
‘I didn’t want to bother you with it. Truth is, it was next to nothing.’
‘Next to nothing? Look where it’s led him to.’
‘Sir, I don’t believe for one minute that Heck is a murderer. Particularly not a sadistic murderer, which is what GMP seem to be dealing with.’
‘Either way, he needs to come in and explain himself. The fact that he hasn’t is something of an indictment.’
She reached into the vehicle and placed her briefcase in the footwell of the front passenger seat. ‘I’m not reading anything into it until I speak to him myself, and get the full facts.’
‘Very honourable of you,’ Laycock sneered. ‘In the meantime, a police officer suspected of murder is on the run, and the department he works for is doing the minimum it can to apprehend him. According to GMP it’s actually worse than that. According to GMP, you’ve not only been unhelpful, you’ve been downright obstructive.’
‘Their failure to close a case is not our responsibility.’
‘Damn it, Gemma!’ Laycock’s voice echoed through the vast reaches of the car park. There was a hint of scarlet in his cheeks. He wasn’t acting anymore – he was furious. ‘Have you any idea how this will look when it hits the headlines?’
She remained calm. ‘Heck’s wanted for questioning – nothing more. There’s no reason why it should hit the headlines.’
‘You and him used to have a thing going, didn’t you?’
He leaned uncomfortably close, so close that she could smell his cologne. He’d moved the hand that had been resting on the open door so that it was now resting on her arm. His grip was tight.
‘That was over ten years ago,’ she said. ‘We were both junior detectives at the time. In any case, I don’t see how it’s relevant.’
‘You want to know what I think, Gemma? I think you still harbour feelings for Heck.’ She laughed, but he wasn’t put off. ‘I can’t think of any other reason why you’d tolerate his ridiculous antics.’
‘He’s a highly productive officer.’
‘He’s a headcase, and you know it. Or maybe you don’t know it. Maybe your feelings for him have clouded your judgment.’
‘Will that be all, Sir?’ She yanked her arm free.
‘No it won’t.’ Still he wouldn’t release the door. ‘I can read you, Gemma. Too well. You’ve done great things during your service, you’ve got commendations coming out of your ears, you look fantastic. You’re PR gold for the modern police. But there’s a downside to that. It means you’ve never had to bite and scratch for things, you’ve never developed the fighting skills or the political know-how. This rough, tough relationship you have with Heck – it may amaze and amuse those who don’t know you. But I haven’t bought it once. Not once.’
She appraised him coolly. ‘It’s what I suspected, Sir … you definitely do have too much time on your hands up there in that palatial office of yours.’
‘Ahhh, the cat shows her claws. Hit a nerve, have I?’
‘This is such crap.’
She made to climb into the car, but he grabbed her by the shoulder.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘It’s a mountain of crap, and it’s getting worse by the minute. But I’m not going to let it bury the National Crime Group. Too many men and women in this organisation have worked too hard to let some fucking wayward lunatic sink us all now. Heck’s gone. That’s it, it’s over for him. And I can’t say I’m sorry. But I have to tell you, Gemma, it might be over for some others as well. If you know where he’s hiding, or if he’s passed any information to you about this murder GMP are investigating, and you’ve withheld it, you are seriously in for the high jump.’
Carefully, with exaggerated distaste, she extricated his fingers from the material of her coat. ‘Sir, your cool dude theatrics may intimidate the sort of craven yes-men you normally like to have around you. But don’t make the mistake of thinking they frighten me. If you’ve an accusation to make, or if you want to launch a disciplinary procedure against me, by all means go ahead. But until then don’t bore me with your schoolyard threats.’ Now she leaned towards him. ‘And don’t even think about putting your hand on me again, under any circumstances whatever. Because if you do, I’ll have you up in front of a tribunal so fast it’ll make you faint. This is the positively discriminating twenty-first century, remember. Fast-track promotion for women is a hot ticket in the service these days. That means that, sooner or later, I’ll outrank you – and then, whether you’ve done anything wrong or not, it’ll be your turn for the high jump.’
Two minutes later, as she drove out of the car park, leaving Laycock fuming behind her, she grabbed a phone from her handbag and stabbed in a number.
‘Yeah, Des … anything regarding Heck? Anything at all? Damn it! I don’t care what it takes, Des, find him! And when you do, tell him I’m going to carpet my office with his bloody hide!’