Mark Pearson - Hard Evidence

'You know what the difference is, Jack?'

'No.'

'The difference is, if you had said it, it would have been true.'

Delaney nodded and drew deep on his cigarette. 'Facts. You can't argue with them.'

Diane held the photo up. A woman in her thirties. Blonde hair, dark, haunted eyes.

'Do we know who she is?'

Delaney shook his head. 'Not yet.'

'We should get this down to the media. Out on the news, on the web. Someone will know her.'

'Not just yet. Let's find out what we can first. We don't want to spook her.'

'So the girl's teacher, Collier, he's in the clear on this?'

'Not necessarily. You know how often women are involved in child abductions, recruiting runaways from railways stations and the like.'

'He's hardly likely to lead us to her if he's involved.'

'People do stupid things, boss. It's what pays our wages.'

'We'd have got round to looking at station footage sooner or later. Maybe he's being clever.'

'Maybe.'

'Keep me posted.'

'Boss.'

Delaney flicked his cigarette out of the window and left.

Sally Cartwright waited by her car, watching as Delaney strode quickly over to her. He opened the door and handed her another copy of the blown-up photo of the mystery woman.

Melanie Jones came hurrying over. 'Detective Inspector. Can I have a word?'

Delaney opened the passenger door. 'Get in the car, Sally, I'm driving.'

Melanie picked up on the urgency in his voice. 'Have there been any developments, Inspector?'

'Your friend with the scar on his face and a five-hundred-pound suit should keep you posted.' Delaney got in the car, turning the photo face down on the dashboard, and slammed the door on the reporter.

He pulled the car away, leaving Melanie Jones frustrated in his wake. 'Where are we going, guv?'

'To have another chat with Jenny's friend.'

'You think she knows who the woman is?'

'Yeah. I think she does.'

'At least if Jenny's with a woman she's probably safe.'

'Doesn't work that way, Sally.'

Sally looked across at him as he pulled out into the traffic, cranking his window right down to let some air in. 'You think she's in danger?'

'Who knows? If we panic the woman who's taken her, she might be.'

'She's not going to physically hurt her, is she?'

'That's probably not why she took her. That's very rare for a woman. Especially a woman on her own.'

'Which of course she may not be.'

'She probably isn't. She groomed her on the internet, made her feel safe.'

'Meaning she's got a partner.'

Delaney shrugged. 'We don't know. But the sooner we find out, the better.'

The loop of the thick iron chain screeched a little as it rubbed against the hook it was hung from. It was an old, heavy chain, pitted with rust, and the noise it made as it scraped metal on metal would have put the Devil's teeth on edge.

Below it, kicking her legs sullenly, sat Carol Parks, swinging herself backwards and forwards.

Delaney and Sally Cartwright were back in Primrose Avenue, standing at the bottom of the garden watching as the young girl sat on her old swing and squinted sullenly up at them.

Delaney rested his hand on the chain, stopping the movement and the noise, and smiled at Carol. He would have liked to kick her backside off the thing but didn't think the tactic would be helpful, so he smiled instead, bringing the full brilliance of his Irish eyes to bear.

'I used to have a swing when I was a kid.'

Carol shrugged, not at all impressed. 'Really?'

'Yeah. Back in Ballydehob. Do you know where that is?'

'Essex?'

'Close enough.' Delaney smiled at her again. 'One time I swung so high and so hard I went right over the top, flew out of the seat and smashed my head on the ground.'

He had her attention now, the frown easing off her lips slightly. 'Honest?'

'Oh yeah. Right on the noggin. Knocked all the brains out of me. I reckon that's why I ended up joining the police.'

A slight smile.

'Did you swing here with Jenny?'

'Sometimes. We're not little kids, you know.'

'Of course not. I suppose it's all boys and bands, eh?'

'No.'

Delaney nodded. 'Not bands?'

'Not boys.'

Delaney smiled again, trying to work his charm; failing.

'Come on, I bet you and Jenny had a queue of boys pestering you at school. Couple of pretty girls like you.'

'Jenny isn't interested in boys.'

Delaney looked at her for a moment. 'You don't seem to be too worried about her.'

She shrugged again: whatever.

'Only we've got half the Metropolitan Police out looking for her. Her father is in pieces. But you don't seem to be too troubled at all. And she's your best friend.'

'She'll be all right.'

Carol kicked her feet again, setting the swing in creaking motion once more.

Sally stepped forward and put her hand on the girl's shoulder to stop her. 'You know something, don't you?'

'I don't know anything.'

Delaney shook his head. 'See, I reckon that bump on the head gave me psychic powers as well, and I don't think you're telling us everything.'

Carol looked away. Delaney looked at the girl's mother, who nodded and knelt down in front of her daughter.

'Tell them, Carol; if you know anything you have to tell them.'

Sally smiled again, reassuring. 'You're not going to be in any trouble. But if you know anything, you have to tell us. We need to know she's all right.'

'She is.'

'How do you know?'

'I promised I wouldn't tell. She made me promise.'

Delaney stooped down to bring his face level with Carol's, his voice soft and soothing. 'I know you made a promise, but things have gone too far now, haven't they?'

Carol looked at him for a moment, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

'She's gone to be with her aunt.'

Delaney looked across surprised to Sally, then back at Carol.

'She doesn't have an aunt.'

'Yes she does.'

Sally crouched beside her. 'She doesn't. If she had we would have spoken to her. Maybe she just called herself an aunt, like family friends sometimes do?'

Carol shook her head. 'No. She's her real aunt. She told me. She didn't think she had a real auntie either, until she met her.'

'Met her where, Carol?'

'On the internet. At school.'

'Do you know what her name is? Did she tell you that?'

Carol nodded.

'What is it? You have to tell us.'

And she did.

'Do you know what I hate about people?' Delaney asked Sally as he shifted into a lower gear and blasted his horn as he overtook an elderly woman who in his opinion shouldn't be allowed to be in charge of a bicycle, let alone a Mercedes with God knows how many horsepower under the bonnet. Sally wasn't happy with the way he was treating her car, but he was the boss so she kept her own counsel.

'No, sir?'

'Everything.' Delaney stepped on the accelerator. 'Because people lie, Sally. They do bad things to each other and they look you in the face and they lie about it.'

'Maybe it's your upbringing, sir.'

'Meaning?'

'All that Catholicism, confessions and all that.'

'I wasn't brought up among priests and nuns, Sally.'

'You weren't?'

'I was brought up by wolves.'

He flashed a humourless grin at her as he brought the car to a screeching halt outside Morgan's workshop.

'Let's go and talk to the liar. See if he's ready to make his confession.'

Inside his workshop, Morgan watched as Delaney and Sally approached. He wiped the back of his greasy hand across his mouth and a flicker of something shifted in his eyes.

'Have you found her?'

Delaney shook his head, and the hope in Morgan's eyes died.

'Mr Morgan. Is there something you forgot to tell us?'

'No.' He looked puzzled as Delaney leaned angrily in.