Mark Pearson - Hard Evidence

'Not true. Serial killing has increased enormously in America. And what they have in America always ends up here a few years later.'

'Yeah. McDonald's maybe. And indoor bowling alleys and nude beach volleyball. But the Fred Wests and the Nilsens and the Shipmans, they're rare. They're nothing to do with some fashion from America. They make up a tiny fraction of your work and you know it.'

Kate laughed and shook her head. 'It's the same old story, Jane. I'm not going to change. I love what I do. The dead deserve justice just as much as the living.'

'Justice? You're a doctor, Kate, not a lawyer.'

'Either way, I'm not going to change my job. I love what I do.'

Jane laughed ironically. 'I hope you make a better forensic pathologist than you do an actress.'

'Why don't we change the subject?'

Jane fixed her with a look. 'Okay. How's the love life?'

'What love life?'

'Something has got you coiled up like a jungle cat stuck in a bathtub of soapy water, and if it isn't work… it's got to be a man.'

Kate shook her head. 'What is it they say? A woman needs a man like a fish needs a deep fat fryer.'

Jane leaned in and looked her in the eye. 'Yeah. Definitely a man. You going to tell me about it?'

Kate stood up and finished her drink. 'I have to get back to work.'

Jane called after her. 'Just tell me it's not one of your clients.'

Elaine Simmons was in her early fifties. Dressed conservatively in a thick woollen skirt and jacket, despite the heat. Delaney was used to judging people by appearances, and he knew Ms Simmons was aware of it. After all, they both played the same kind of game. Delaney was used to reading people so he could help put them behind bars. Ms Simmons was used to reading people to keep them out. If asked for his views on the role counsellors played in keeping crime statistics down, he wasn't usually complimentary.

'The point is, Ms Simmons, you recommended Candy Morgan for release.'

Elaine Simmons smiled at him in a neutral kind of way. 'I'm guessing here that you don't usually have much time for the likes of me, Inspector.'

'You'd be guessing right.'

'Wishy-washy liberals, holding the criminals' hands and treating them with more respect than their victims.'

'Sounds about the right description.'

'We all have a job to do.'

'If you kept on holding their hands, maybe that would work.'

'What do you mean?'

'See, if you held on to them, then those hands couldn't be put to use again, could they? Strangling people. Stabbing or glassing people. Raping. Sodomising. Old ladies, young children.'

'You're not a fan of probation and rehabilitation, I take it?'

'Are you?'

'I wouldn't be in this job if I wasn't.'

'Every single week someone is murdered or raped by an offender on parole. Let out early on the recommendation of yourself or one of your colleagues.'

'We're not the bad guys, Inspector. These statistics should be put into context. Last year only point six per cent of offenders assessed as high risk reoffended.'

Delaney could feel a throbbing in his temples and a red mist building up behind his eyes. 'I was just putting matters into the context, Ms Simmons, of the fact that career criminals are let out after serving only half their time. Let out on probation due to the fact that the government reckons it is more cost-effective to let murderers loose on the street than to build the prisons needed to house them all.'

Elaine smiled sympathetically. 'I'm sorry you see it that way.'

'Save your apologies for Jenny Morgan's father.'

'I don't feel he has cause for alarm.'

Delaney couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'His psychotic sister has kidnapped his daughter, for Christ's sake. I should think he has every good reason to be alarmed.'

'Candy Morgan was assessed very thoroughly before she was released. I really don't think she poses a threat to anyone, least of all her niece.'

'She cut somebody's ear off. She sliced a guard's face open with a razor.'

'She changed.'

'They all change when parole comes up.'

'Candy was different.'

Delaney laughed dismissively. 'They're all different, they're all innocent.'

'Have you spoken to her, Inspector?'

'Obviously not. That's why we're here.'

'When you speak to her, you'll see what I mean.'

'You have nothing to give us that will help us find her?'

'I've no idea where she is. But I can assure you that the girl is in no danger.'

'How can you be so sure?'

Elaine hesitated, then shook her head. 'You'll just have to take my word for it.'

Delaney looked at her, realisation dawning. 'You know something, don't you?'

'No. I have no idea where she is.'

'But you know something. She has told you something?'

'Anything we ever spoke about is confidential. You know that, Inspector.'

'I know that a twelve-year-old girl is missing.'

'I'm sorry, but I can't help you.'

'Bullshit!' Delaney slammed his hand down hard on her desk.

Elaine jumped back, startled.

'You know anything that can help us find that girl then you tell us now. Or so help me I'll make you pay for it if anything happens to her.'

Elaine Simmons met his angry look. 'Believe it or not, Inspector, you're not the first person to shout at me.'

Sally intervened diplomatically. 'We just want to find the girl. I'm sure you can see that.'

'Of course I can. And if I could help in any way I would. Like I said, I honestly and genuinely believe that Candy Morgan is a changed woman. She has had a horrible, troubled life but she has turned it around. She's turned a corner.'

'She's turning a corner straight back to Holloway when we catch up with her.'

'And if she hasn't done anything wrong?'

'Of course she's done something wrong.'

'She's a relative. It makes a difference.'

Delaney leaned in. 'You want to help Candy Morgan?'

'Yes, I do.'

'Then tell us what you know.'

'I'm sorry, there's nothing else to tell.'

Delaney's mobile phone rang; he snapped it open, irritated.

'Delaney?'

He listened for a moment or two then thanked the caller and hung up. He stood up and nodded to Sally. 'We're out of here.'

'Where to?'

'Back to Holloway.'

Delaney opened the door for Sally and looked back at Elaine Simmons.

'I hope you sleep well at night.'

'As it happens, I don't, Inspector. And you know why?'

'Surprise me.'

Because I actually care about the people I deal with. To you they may be worthless scum. But to me they are victims just as much as the people they have offended against.'

'And it's all the fault of society, I suppose?'

'You're carrying a lot of anger around with you, Inspector. It's not healthy.'

'You going to offer to counsel me?'

'Not me, but you should get help. That kind of anger. You let that build and someone is going to end up getting hurt.'

'Maybe someone already has.'

Delaney followed Sally through the door and pulled it firmly shut behind him.

Sally looked at him a little nervously. 'What did you mean by somebody already being hurt?'

'Don't worry about it.'

He walked ahead, the tension showing in the taut muscles of his shoulders.

A loose tile let a shaft of sunlight poke through the roof, throwing a small spill of speckled gold on to the attic floor. Dust motes danced in the beam of light as a spider crawled out of the eaves and stopped frozen in the centre of the small golden circle.

Across the attic, in the dark, Jenny Morgan's eyes widened and she shrank back against the hard angle of the roof. She hated spiders. Always had. It seemed to her that the spider had stopped because it had seen her. She let out a low whimper and shrank even further back, hunching her shoulders. She cried out a little as the blue nylon cord that was tied to her wrists bit in roughly. The other end of the rope was tied to an iron hoop beyond her reach, so she was trapped. Alone. In the dark, and terrified.