Mo Hayder - Gone

‘I saw him too,’ Prody said dully.

The two men turned to him. He was sitting in his chair, his shoulders slumped. He hadn’t spoken much. He was furious with himself that he hadn’t picked it up sooner. For a while Caffery had been tempted to use it as a stick to beat him with, to ram home the point that if he’d had his head properly locked on this case they might have picked up Moon earlier. But Prody was ashamed enough already. If there were lessons to be learned, he was doing all the teaching himself.

‘Yeah – he had a car.’ Prody gave them a thin, sick smile. ‘And guess what it was?’

‘Oh, please,’ Caffery said faintly. ‘Don’t tell me. A Vauxhall.’

‘I saw him driving it one day. Noticed it because it was the same blue as my Peugeot.’

‘Jesus.’ Turner shook his head, deflated. ‘I can’t believe this.’

‘Yeah, OK. No need to look at me like that. I know I’m a cunt.’

‘You worked on relocating the Costellos today,’ said Caffery. ‘Tell me he wasn’t in the room when you did it. Tell me he didn’t overhear that conversation.’

‘He didn’t. I’m sure.’

‘How about when you were ordering up all the ANPR points? You’re sure he couldn’t have . . . ?’

Prody shook his head. ‘That was late at night. He’d have gone.’

‘How did he know about it, then? Because he definitely knew where those cameras were.’

Prody started to say something but stopped and closed his mouth as if something had dawned on him. He turned to the computer and shook the mouse. The screen lit up and he stared at it, his face going dark red. ‘Great.’ He threw his hands into the air. ‘Fucking great.’

‘What?’

He pushed his chair bad-temperedly away from the desk, swivelled it to face the wall, and sat there with his arms folded, his back to the room, as if he’d come to the end of his patience.

‘Prody. Don’t act like a fucking child.’

‘Yeah, well, feel like one at the moment, Boss. He’s probably been into my computer. That’s why it never seemed to time out. It’s all in there.’ He waved a hand at it over his shoulder. ‘Everything. The works. All my emails. That’s how he did it.’

Caffery chewed his lip. He checked his watch. ‘I’ve got a job for you. You need to go and see someone.’

Prody turned his chair back. ‘Yeah? What?’

‘The bean-counters are whining about budgets – throwing their toys out of the pram about the staffing levels on the new safehouse. Go over there and give the PC the afternoon off. Speak to the Costellos and Nick. Give them an update on what’s going on – try to calm Janice down because she’s going to lose it when she hears about this. When you’ve done all that – and you can take your time about it, hang around if you have to – get the local shop to send someone back to cover you.’

Prody regarded him balefully. Go and explain to a woman who had nearly lost her daughter that they knew who the bastard was? That something could have been done about it a long time ago? Not exactly the soft option. A hidden punishment in there. Still, he pushed his chair back, got his raincoat off the hook and found his keys. He walked to the door without a word, not looking at anyone.

‘See you,’ Turner shouted to him. But he didn’t answer. He closed the door, leaving the two men standing in silence. Turner might have spoken to Caffery at that point, but his phone rang. He answered it. Listened. Finished the call, put the phone in his pocket, and looked sombrely at the DI.

‘They’re ready, I take it?’ Caffery asked.

Turner nodded. ‘They’re ready.’

They held each other’s eye. Each knew what the other was thinking. They had Richard Moon’s address, a witness who said Moon was at home right this second, and now a forced-entry team standing by. And no reason to think Moon knew they were coming. He might be at home, just sitting on the sofa in front of the TV with a cup of tea, not expecting anything to happen.

Of course it wouldn’t be like that. Both Turner and Caffery knew it. So far Moon had outsmarted them at every turn. He was cunning and deadly. There was no reason to think he was going to change now. But they had to make the effort. Really, there wasn’t anything else they could do.

‘Jasper doesn’t like it here. Jasper thinks that man’s going to come in those windows.’ In the flat DI Caffery had transferred the Costellos to, little Emily was sitting on the bed, toy rabbit clutched against her chest. They’d had lunch, spaghetti and meat sauce, and now they were making up the beds. Emily frowned at her mother. ‘You don’t like it here, do you, Mummy? You don’t really like it, do you?’

‘I don’t love it.’ Janice pulled Emily’s Barbie sleeping-bag out of the dustbin liner she’d used to transport it and gave it a shake. This bedroom was nicer than the last one. In fact, the whole flat was better than the police house. Cleaner and tidier with cream carpets and white woodwork. ‘I don’t love it, but I don’t hate it. And I do know something very special about it.’

‘What?’

‘I know it’s safe. I know no one is going to hurt you while we’re here. Those windows are special safe windows and Nick and the rest of the police have made sure of that. The nasty man can’t get you here. Can’t get Jasper either.’

‘Or you?’

‘Or me. Or Daddy, or Nanny. None of us.’

‘Nanny’s bed’s too far.’ Emily pointed out of the room, down the corridor, past the living room and bathroom to the door at the back of the flat. ‘Nanny’s bed’s all the way down there.’

‘Nanny likes her new room.’

‘And my bed’s too far from yours, Mummy. I won’t be able see you in the night. I was scared last night.’

Janice straightened and looked at the little trundle bed Nick had set up in the corner for Emily. Then she looked at the rickety pine bed she and Cory would sleep on. Last night at her mother’s Cory had fallen asleep easily. While he snored and grunted she’d lain awake, watching car headlights pass on the ceiling, waiting for one to stop, waiting for footsteps, straining her ears at the tiniest noise outside. ‘I tell you what.’ She went to the T-shirt and joggers Cory had worn last night. They were in an untidy tangle in his suitcase where he’d thrown them this morning. She picked them up and dropped them on to the trundle bed. Then she pulled Emily’s pyjamas out from the rucksack, crossed to the double bed and put them under Cory’s pillow. ‘How’s that?’

‘I sleep with you ?’

‘That’s right.’

‘ Great ,’ said Emily, bouncing eagerly. ‘ Great .’

‘Yeah – really great.’ Cory stood in the doorway. He was wearing a suit, his hair slicked back from his forehead. ‘I get the camp bed. Thanks a bunch.’

Janice put her hands on her hips and gave him a long look, up and down. The suit was the most expensive one he owned – YSL – and had cost them a small fortune. Last night, in the time she’d been grabbing toys, food, sleeping-bags and clothes for Emily, he’d been getting this suit out of the cupboard. Now he was busily fitting the tiny Paul Smith cufflinks she’d bought him for Easter last year. ‘You look nice,’ she said coldly. ‘Where are you off to? Hot date?’

‘Yeah – really hot. I’m going to work. Why?’

‘ Work? Jesus, Cory.’

‘What’s the matter with that?’

‘Well, Emily to start with. She’s terrified – you can’t just go.’

‘There are four of you – Nick’s not going anywhere and there’s an officer sitting outside. You are being looked after. Watertight – watertight . In the meantime, my job is not quite as secure. In the meantime, Janice , our livelihood, our house, your car – everything is not quite as watertight. So forgive me for applying myself to the problem.’