Tom Weaver - The Dead Tracks

He smiled. 'It's not that simple.'

'Nothing's simple,' I said. 'What's the lead?'

'It's an ongoing investigation.'

'Maybe I can help.'

'I don't think so.'

'How do you know?'

'Because I know,' he said, his voice simmering for the first time. 'I'm going to level with you here, David. I need you to step back from the case. The only reason I can give you is that, by you sticking your nose in here, you're jeopardizing a parallel investigation.'

'You've got another case linked to Megan's disappearance?'

He leaned forward. 'I can see your mind ticking over there, David. But whatever you think is going on here, it isn't.'

'You've got another disappearance?'

'No.'

'Then what?' He didn't reply, and this time I sighed myself. You might want to take a refresher course where negotiation is concerned, DCI Phillips. We've all got to make a living.'

'This is going to turn out bad for you, David.'

'Is that a threat?'

'No,' Phillips said, giving me his best innocent look. 'We're not in the business of threats here. We're the police.

We respond to threats. But I'm telling you now: if you get in the way, we won't hesitate to push you aside.'

Thanks for the heads-up.'

He got to his feet. 'I'm going to make this easy for you, okay? Charles Bryant and his father are part of a murder investigation now. You can throw the dog in there too, for all I care. The one thing I want to make absolutely crystal clear for you is this: you don't even think about looking into the Bryant murder, and you don't come near us on anything to do with the Carver disappearance if it overlaps with lines of enquiry we're following with Bryant. Understood?'

I didn't move. Just stared back at him.

Your case… .' He shook his head. We worked all the angles you're working. We worked them better, with more manpower and more experience. We found nothing. But that doesn’t mean the case is finished. It just means we're coming at it from another angle. And, like I said, if you get in the way…'

I smiled at him. 'So you do have another lead?'

He shrugged. You mull it over. I can't tell you anything else, but I can assure you that this DIY detective shite is going to come back and bite you on the arse.'

His eyes lingered on me as I tried to figure out exactly what it was he was hiding. Then he turned and left the room.

Chapter Nineteen

I'd been waiting about five minutes when the door opened again. It wasn't Phillips or Davidson this time, but another man. He was in his mid forties, at least six-two, broad - but thirty pounds overweight with messy red hair and blotchy skin. He looked like he hadn't slept in months. Once he might have been a good-looking guy, but something had rubbed away at him so only the shadows of that man remained.

In one of his hands, he was cradling a mug of coffee. In the pocket of his jacket, a small spiral notepad poked out with a pen wedged in the top. He held the door in place, about two inches shy of the frame, and placed the pad on the floor in the gap to keep it open. Then he left it there and came over and sat down opposite me.

'Mr Raker?'

I nodded.

'My name's Colm Healy.'

He was southern Irish. He sipped on the coffee and flicked a look back towards the door. The pad was still there, holding it open. I studied him. He doesn’t want to use the intercom to buzz back out. Which means he's either lazy - or he's not supposed to be here. He turned back to me. 'How you doing?'

'I'm sitting in a police station.' I said. 'What could be better?'

He smiled. 'They been treating you nicely?'

'Five-star service.'

'Good.' He looked again at the door. 'I'm not going to take up much of your time here. I just need to ask you a few questions.'

'Your pals just asked me a few questions.'

'I know,' he said. 'Luckily for you, I've got some more.'

'Why?'

'Why what?'

'Why are you here?'

'Like I said, I've got a few quest-'

'I know what you said.'

He paused, a serious expression settling across his face. Then a smile cracked; he wasn't amused, he was just trying to tell me he was a reasonable guy. 'Are you playing hardball, Mr Raker? Is that it?'

'Where's Phillips?'

'Never mind about Phillips.'

'You two don't get on?'

He pushed his coffee aside and reached into his back pocket. Took out his warrant card and laid it down in front of me. Next to a picture of a younger version of him it said DETECTIVE SERGEANT COLM HEALY.

'I worked on the Megan Carver case,' he said, and glanced towards the door again. 'So I'd like you to answer a few questions for me. That way we can stop messing around and get on with the business of finding her.' He smiled his best shit-eating grin. 'Is that okay with you?'

'I've already told Phillips everything I know.'

He sighed. 'I'm going to level with you, Mr Raker. Me and Phillips…' He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. 'We don't get on. If I have to spend more than a couple of minutes in his company, I want to put my fist through a bloody wall. He rubs me up the wrong way. He rubs a lot of people up the wrong way here. The guy's got a rod up his arse.'

'At least we agree on something.'

'Do you think Megan Carver is still alive?'

I looked at him. There had been a tremor of desperation in his voice. I leaned in even closer to him and this time I could smell the aftershave on the collar of his shirt and the coffee on his breath.

'Mr Raker?'

'I don't know.'

His eyes narrowed. You don't know — or you won't tell?'

'I don't know.'

He glanced towards the door again. "We might be able to help each other here.'

'How?'

'You scratch my balls, I scratch yours.'

I smiled. I didn't particularly want any man scratching my balls, but I was intrigued by what his play might be. Five minutes after Phillips warns me off my case, another cop turns up and tells me he can help me if we meet halfway.

'So… you want to dance?' he asked.

I didn't reply.

Healy's eyes narrowed again, like he'd second-guessed me. 'That's disappointing' He stood. 'I could have helped you.'

'I don't even know you.'

'You don't need to,' he said. "We don't have to move in together. You tell me what you know, I tell you what I know. After that, we go our separate ways.'

'Why?'

'I already told you why.'

'No, you didn't. You told me you worked the Carver case, but we both know that's not true.' I nodded towards the pad wedging open the door. We both know you're not supposed to be here.'

We looked at each other; a face-off. After a while, he shrugged again, and made a move for the door. Give him something. See what his angle is.

'Wait a sec.'

He turned back to me. I reached into my jacket pocket and removed the folded-up printout of the man from Tiko's. I placed it down on the table, turning it so Healy could see. 'You want to help me?'

He stepped back in towards the table. Nodded.

'Tell me who this is.'

He picked up the photograph, his eyes moving from left to right, taking in as much of the face, and the scene around it, as possible. There wasn't a lot else to see but the features of the man. I'd cropped it in as close to his head as I could get. Kaitlin had recognized the surroundings as Tiko's. Healy wouldn't.

'What's this?' he said.

You didn't come across him during the Carver investigation?'

His eyes flicked to me. Frowned. 'Now why would I have done that?'

A weird answer. I leaned back in my seat.

'I don't know,' I said.' Why would you?'

'Do you know who he is?'

'No. Do you?'

He didn't answer.

' Do you?'

He placed the picture back down on the desk. 'You want my advice, David?' he said, ignoring my question and calling me by my first name now.