Chris Simms - Savage Moon

She held up a finger. 'But it's got to be morning. Lunch time at the latest, so we have it for the morning edition the next day.'

'Fine.' Jon opened the door, feeling that he'd just been fleeced. She pressed a card into his hand and marched off down the corridor.

'Well, I've seen better dealings with the press,' Edwards sighed, up in Summerby's office.

Jon could feel that his face was still flushed from the encounter. He looked at Edwards, thinking, you don't even know about the exclusive interview I've just promised. 'OK, I underestimated how desperate they were for information. Promising to keep them in the loop has worked for me before.'

'With the local press, yes. This lot aren't so easy to deal with,' Edwards said.

I realise that now, Jon thought. 'What do you reckon they'll be saying tomorrow morning?'

Edwards crossed his legs and tipped his head back, drawing out the moment. 'Hard to say. You tried to palm them off and they won't like that. Depends on the editor in charge of each paper, but it's best we assume the worst. The Monster slays another, that sort of thing. Maybe even, Panther slays, police delays.'

Jon fired a glance at him, looking for any visible signs he was being sarcastic, but Edwards kept a straight face and Jon turned to Summerby who was looking far from amused. 'OK. So it's a case of damage limitation. Jon, there's no point hoping this panther theory is going away. It could even divert attention away from Peterson's car park liaisons if the press are marching around up on the moors. Maybe we mention this Hobson fellow, say he's advising us on the possibility of it being an ABC, to use the correct terminology.' He gave a quick cough at Jon's inquisitive glance. 'Alien Big Cat. I've been on the web, there's certainly a load of stuff about the things.'

Jon looked down at his knuckles. 'I'm reluctant to involve the man. He seems to be taking a strange delight in events, and I wouldn't mind betting he'll be raising the admission price at his zoo pretty damn soon.'

'Be that as it may, we can't stop the press taking the most sensational approach possible. And assuming a person carried out the attacks, it could help us if he thinks we think it was a panther.'

'Or it may encourage him to strike again,' Jon stated. 'He's obviously staging things to make it appear that way. We may feed his desire to repeat the performance.'

Summerby shrugged. 'Anyway, we can't control the headlines. So, next steps?'

Jon was about to answer when there was a knock at the door. Hearing it open, he looked over his shoulder. No, he thought. This is all I fucking need.

McCloughlin stepped into the room. 'Gentlemen.' His eyes cut straight past Jon to Summerby. 'I gather we have quite an incident on our hands.'

Summerby nodded. 'DI Spicer attended the crime scene this morning and has met with the officer in charge of the Sutton investigation out at Mossley Brow. He was just about to outline the next steps he was going to take.'

McCloughlin was pacing up and down the side of the room, head lowered and tongue running across his lips. Jon thought of a hyena circling the kill. 'So, DI Spicer. What are you going to do next?'

Jon sat upright and directed his answer at Summerby. 'Sir, the contents of all the bins have been seized and the collection of refuse from the area around Crime Lake has been suspended. Officers are searching the edge of the field for any sign of the weapon. A crime scene manager is overseeing a fingertip search of the car park and he'll be reporting back with any finds tomorrow morning. After this meeting, I'll initiate proceedings to obtain Peterson's bank, credit card and telephone details, and I've posted a uniform at the door of his house. First thing tomorrow we'll go in, search the premises and complete an inventory. We'll also talk to neighbours and friends to map out his last twenty-four hours.'

'Yeah, yeah,' McCloughlin said. 'So you've covered off the standard first actions for a major incident. What about other stuff?'

Reluctantly, Jon turned to his former SIO. 'What other stuff?'

McCloughlin stopped in his tracks. 'Reacting to the particular circumstances of this case. The body was found by a frigging lake. Have you arranged for it to be dredged? What about divers? If you've just slashed somebody up, a dirty great lake would be a pretty inviting place to throw your weapon.'

Shit, he's right, Jon thought, noticing Edwards nodding away in the periphery of his vision. 'I'll extend the perimeters of the crime scene to include the lake.'

'And the moor,' McCloughlin continued. 'What sort of a search have you arranged for up there?'

'It's already been searched. I'm getting the report tomorrow, but a crime scene manager attended and the site was signed off. To be honest, there's not a lot there apart from an outcrop of rocks. Any evidence was washed away long ago.'

'It's a moor right? Thick grass? Clumps of peat?' McCloughlin demanded.

Jon nodded. You're lining me up again, you bastard.

'Disturbances to the soil? Signs of digging? What about a sweep of the area with metal detectors? You've just killed someone in what's effectively a bloody great field. How about just burying the weapon rather than risk carrying it back to the road. And talking of roads, how did the attacker get there? How did he leave the site of the murder? He would have been drenched in the victim's blood. I doubt he caught a sodding bus home.'

Holding McCloughlin's stare, Jon unclenched his teeth with a conscious effort. 'I'll look into it.'

Summerby cleared his throat. 'Thank you for those pointers. Now, if you could allow me to discuss the way forward with my officer?'

McCloughlin broke eye contact with Jon and turned to Summerby. 'Come on, Edward, we can't afford any screw-ups on this.'

Jon saw the fingers being waved dismissively in his direction. You're so close to having those broken, he thought.

Summerby continued looking at McCloughlin and said nothing. A second passed before McCloughlin moved towards the door. 'I'll leave you to it then.'

Gavin Edwards also got to his feet. 'I've got some stuff to clear too.'

Once the door had shut behind him, Summerby looked at

Jon. 'Still happy taking this on?'

Anger boiled in his chest as he thought of McCloughlin's attempt to have him dismissed. He had to prove the bastard wrong. 'Of course, Sir. If I can count on your support when he tries to scupper me again.'

Summerby gave a grim smile. 'To let you know a secret, I've never liked that abrasive prick. I'll keep him off your back, don't you worry.'

It was almost eight-thirty before he got a chance to call Alice.

'Jon! You were on the local news. Your mum was here when you were on. My family rang to let us know as well. How come you were giving a statement? I don't understand.'

Reacting to the shrill note edging into her voice, Jon made his own words sound calm. 'Babe, things have blown up a bit in my face here. The case I'm on might be linked to the death of that woman up on Saddleworth Moor.'

'What? You're involved on that? The report said there were similarities between both deaths. What did they mean?'

Hating himself for bullshitting his own wife, he said, 'Alice, it's just reporters jumping to conclusions. Listen, I've got some more stuff to sort out. I'll be a while longer. How's my little girl?'

'She's OK. When will you be home? I'm really tired.'

'Has mum gone?'

'Yeah, an hour or so ago.'

Jon glanced at his desk. There was enough preparation work to keep him there half the night. 'I'll be back to do her bottle. Elevenish?'

'Oh.'

'Shall I pick up anything on the way home?'

'Yes, we need more nappy sacks. Why have you got more stuff to sort out? You're not in charge of the case are you?'