Hanging Hill - Mo Hayder [59]
‘There’d be a missing-persons case.’
‘No – that’s rubbish. How many women in their late teens, early twenties, go missing every month?’
‘Yes – but you’re not talking about girls like Lorne.’
Zoë looked back at him with a level gaze. She knew what he meant – that the girls who went missing without making headlines were the prostitutes, the drug addicts, the runaways, the strippers and the dregs. She’d get it through to them if she showed them the photos of Lorne. But she couldn’t. Just couldn’t do it.
‘You mean,’ the superintendent said, lowering his chin and looking over his glasses at her, ‘there’s a pile of dead bodies somewhere? Just no one’s noticed?’
‘No. I’m saying that up to now we’re pushing this investigation towards it being someone she knows, a teenager. I’m asking you to reconsider. I’m asking you to think outside those parameters. And to do it quickly – because, honestly, I think this could be a warning.’
Debbie Harry, who had been sitting at the back of the room in silence, gave a delicate little cough. She looked very young and fresh and pretty, dressed in a white lace blouse, her hair tied back. ‘While speculation is a good thing, it is just that. Speculation.’
‘More speculative than saying “all like her” means everyone likes her? What if it means he’s going to go after anyone who’s like Lorne?’
‘Well,’ Debbie said, suddenly soothing, ‘I’ve always been very clear in stating my case in this forum: that my opinions are only guidance. That you really, really – all of you – must form your own conclusions. And always keep an open mind.’
‘Yes. And I heard you say that. But I might be the only one who did, because I look around and I see a whole room full of investigators all too happy to accept a bit of guidance from you because it means they don’t need to use their brains. Sorry, guys, it’s true. You’ve accepted her parameters, so if we’re really going to work this case like a psychology seminar, then let’s go for it. Let’s all of us write up a thousand interpretations of these sentences. Then have a seance to decide which is right.’
‘Hang on, hang on.’ The superintendent held up his hand. ‘There’s vindictiveness creeping in here. It’s the last thing we need.’
‘Vindictiveness?’
Debbie nodded regretfully. As if it hurt her to be attacked, but that she, the adult, was prepared to be grown-up about it. She gave Zoë a sympathetic smile. ‘Well, I didn’t want to be the one to say it, but I have wondered if I’m stirring things up for you, Detective Benedict. Just a feeling that something about me is tapping into something very painful for you.’
Zoë opened her mouth to answer, then saw that everyone was staring at her. She got it. They all thought she was jealous. Jealous of this idiotic jumped-up psychology student with her one-size-too-tight blouses and her soft hair. She shot Ben a look, half expecting, or hoping, he’d say something in her defence, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze. He had focused his eyes on the photos of the sex offenders on the board as if he was far more interested in them.
‘Jesus.’ Bad-temperedly she snatched up her keys and her helmet. ‘Welcome to the new age of policing. Anyone in here who gives a shit about justice, you’d better start saying your prayers.’ She saluted the superintendent, clicked her heels together and, the team staring at her as if she was completely mad, left the room, slamming the door behind her.
29
Sally had decided that Millie had to go to school, whatever happened. She had some free slots at work that morning, so she drove her to Kingsmead, and promised to pick her up next to the sports hall at home time. Jake the Peg’s purple jeep was nowhere to be seen. Even so, she watched Millie all the way until she’d gone into the building.
Her job that morning was just around the corner from the school – in one of the most expensive streets in the city. Most of the houses were elegant detached villas, built in Victorian times. The Farrow and Ball paint fad had arrived here, and all the doors and windows seemed to be painted