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  Then Jill shouted. He glanced over his shoulder. She was pointing to his left. He’d been right. He saw the girl, red hair flying, her pale coat flapping around her legs. She’d lost the two shopping bags she’d been carrying. She ran full-pelt down the slope beyond the bollards at the far end of the garage and parking area, heading for Glenthorne.

  Dave gunned the engine and sped after her. He saw her glance over her shoulder as she heard his engine, her eyes wide and wild. Then she was running as fast and hard as she could, concentrating on making ground. He took the bike through the bollards and down onto the tarmacked pathway. She was running straight down the middle of a wide, straight path. What she thought she’d achieve, he had no idea, but she wasn’t getting away from him. He gunned the engine and quickly closed the gap between them. Pushing his visor up, he yelled at her.

  ‘Police. Stop before you hurt yourself. You’re not getting away.’

  She ran on. The tarmac was just wide enough for two pedestrians. Either side of it was a strip of grass and weeds at least as wide. He had plenty of room to pass her whenever he chose and more than enough time before the path emerged onto the road ahead.

  ‘Show some sense, for Christ’s sake,’ he shouted over the rumble of the now nearly idling bike. ‘Stop.’

  This was stupid. What was wrong with her?

  But on she ran. He could tell she was panting now. If she went on much longer, he didn’t know how he was going to get her back to the car. At least she wouldn’t be able to run away when he did get to that stage.

  ‘Damn it, woman, will you pack it in?’ he snarled. Then saw her arms whip out to the side. She grabbed hold of a light pole at the entrance to a side path on their right. Both hands locked around it. Her feet left the ground as Dave cursed and slammed on the brakes, kicking the bike into neutral.

  One of her feet hit the petrol tank by his knee, the other caught him squarely in the ribs. It was like being hit with a sharp-edged block of wood. He yelped and grabbed for her feet, but the bike was tilting under him. She wriggled and kicked. He couldn’t fight her and the bike. He lost his grip on one ankle.

  She got a foot to the ground, kicked out again with the one he was still grasping. His hand slipped on the smooth nylon of her tights and her heel slammed into his upper arm, then flicked up so he had to pull his head back sharply to avoid being hit in the face.

  He got the bike stable under him, kicked the stand down, but by then she had broken free and hit the ground running in a new direction – down the side path that led to the main road, which they’d been running parallel with. Staggered metal barriers stood across the end. Designed to stop pushbikes, they were certainly going to stop him getting the big Norton through there.

  ‘Bitch,’ he swore, grabbing the ignition key. He snatched it out and was off the bike in an instant, but she had already gained ten yards or more and was off and flying again. He swung through the barrier and set off in pursuit, running hard.

  The path was only a few yards long. She was dressed in a short skirt and tights with a thin top under a lightweight mac. Dave was in heavy bike leathers. He drove himself hard but had gained no ground by the time she reached the far end where another pair of metal barriers partially blocked the path. She angled left then lunged across to the right. Her right foot hit the wooden fence, pushing her upwards, arms spreading so that her coat flew out, bat-like as her left foot hit the top of the barrier. Then she was turning in the air, coat swirling around her. She literally hit the ground running, vanishing from sight to the left, along the Cowley Bridge Road.

  ‘Shit,’ Dave muttered. He wasn’t going to match a move like that, with or without the leathers. He took the opposite approach, angling right to slip through, using the thickness and padding of the leathers as protection. He hit the fence to the left with his shoulder, bounced off, right foot going out, boot sole gripping the ground, pushing him off, but she’d already gained another ten yards on him.

  As he pounded after her along the busy road, she glanced back over her shoulder. A few yards further, Dave’s long legs were holding ground, but he was not yet gaining. She glanced back again and abruptly veered out across the traffic, narrowly missing an oncoming car. The driver behind it slammed on the brakes, tyres squealing on the tarmac as the car fishtailed. Dave glanced back, but a big lorry was coming towards him, too close for comfort. As he turned back, he saw her vanish into the entrance of another pathway, this one leading down to the river.

  ‘Damn it.’

  He stopped, panting, and leaned back against the high wall that ran along this side of the road. Pulling out his phone, he hit a speed-dial number.

  ‘Dave?’ She’d recognised his number.

  ‘I lost her. She dodged the traffic and nipped down to the river.’

  A pause, then: ‘OK. Meet us back here at the flats.’

  He put the phone away, pushed off from the wall and started walking back the way he’d come.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  They were waiting for him by the garages, standing in a group beside Dick’s car. He stopped the bike, killed the engine and pulled off his helmet.

  ‘All right?’ asked Jane.

  Dave grunted.

  Jane held up a dark leather shoulder bag. ‘We haven’t got her, but we’ve got the evidence we need. The wigs aren’t in here, but the pepper spray and the Stanley knife are. And it looks like there’s going to be blood inside it, even though she’s cleaned the outside. We’ll leave it to forensics to open it and prove that, though.’

  ‘So, where now?’ Dave asked.

  They all had smartphones. He didn’t expect they’d been idle while they waited for him.

  ‘Her parents live in Brixham,’ Jane told him. ‘She’s got an aunt and uncle here in the city. No other family we know of.’

  ‘Friends?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘She’s not been on our radar and doesn’t use social media,’ Ben told him.

  ‘So, what are we waiting for? Where does the aunt live?’

  ‘Exwick,’ Dick said.

  Dave grimaced. ‘She could make that on foot from here, across Station Road. Any idea where her car is?’

  ‘Believe it or not, the tyre place down there by the Esso garage.’ Dick thrust his chin in the direction of Cowley Bridge Road.

  ‘Well, let’s go then. We don’t want her picking it up while we stand here chatting.’

  ‘I told them to put a delay on it, if she comes in, and call me to say my car’s ready.’

  Dave relaxed. ‘Old age and treachery, eh?’

  Dick winked. ‘Gets ‘em every time.’

  ‘So, are you or Red going to wait there for her while the rest of us go to the aunt and uncle’s?’

  ‘I will. I spoke to them.’

  ‘Right. I’ll follow you then, Red.’

  ‘Does that thing go that slow?’ asked Dick.

  Dave bobbed his head. ‘Not often.’

  *

  Nancy and Derek Manning lived in a small cul-de-sac off a side road that led up into the hills off St Andrew’s Road, not far from the church. Dropping back down to the main road, they headed towards the city centre, turning right just before St David’s to cross the railway lines and the river into Exwick, using the same route as their suspect would have taken, just minutes earlier. Dave was hoping to overtake her before she reached her relatives’ house, but there was no sign of her by the time they reached the main road through the old village.

  Jane turned right in front of him, then left up the narrow hill towards the address she had found.

  The cul-de-sac was fairly new, the houses of dark brick and tile, with attached garages and tiny front gardens, but the edge-of-woodland feel of the place was pleasant. Jane pulled into the short drive of the house they wanted, in the bottom corner, and Dave parked the bike across the back of her bright-green Vauxhall. By the time he had his helmet and gloves off and the key in his pocket, the others were out of the car and Jane was approac
hing the front door. She rang the bell and they heard it chime from within. In moments, the door was opened by a man in his late fifties, tall and slender, his hair and jaw almost as grey as Dick Feeney’s.

  ‘Yes?’ He frowned slightly at the number of people crowding his doorstep.

  Jane held up her warrant card. ‘DC Bennett, Exeter CID. Sorry to arrive mob-handed, but we were all together at another location. Could we come in?’

  ‘Well… yes, I suppose. What’s this about?’ He stood back to allow them access.

  Jane stepped forward, glancing around.

  ‘To your left,’ he said, showing her through.

  The rest of the team followed. A small, plump woman with white hair and something about her that just said ‘style’ to Dave was on the sofa to their right as they stepped into the large lounge.

  ‘Hello. Mrs Manning?’ said Jane.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘These are the police, darling,’ her husband told her.

  ‘That’s right.’ Jane extended a hand. ‘Jane Bennett. These are my colleagues, PCs Evans and Myers and DCs Feeney and Miles. It’s about your niece, Tanya. Have you seen her today?’

  ‘No. Why? Is she all right?’ Her concern was instant and genuine.

  ‘Yes, she’s fine as far as we know. But we need to talk to her fairly urgently and she’s not at home, so we wondered if she might be visiting.’

  ‘No. As I say, we haven’t seen her since last weekend. She’s very busy at work.’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘She works for a solicitor in the city. Hamilton, Bayliss and Cunningham on Southernhay.’

  ‘I know it,’ Jane nodded. ‘A good job, then.’

  ‘Very.’

  ‘Have you got her mobile number? We could give her a ring, see if we can arrange something sensible instead of chasing round randomly.’

  ‘What’s so urgent anyway, Detective?’ Derek asked, moving around to stand beside his wife. ‘We can tell her to come and see you next time we speak to her.’

  Jane grimaced, sucking air through her teeth. ‘Yes, it’s kind of time-sensitive, though, I’m afraid. We think she might have seen something that could help us catch a dangerous suspect.’

  ‘Dangerous? What kind of suspect are we talking about here?’ he demanded.

  ‘We can’t say too much. Ongoing investigation and all that,’ she said apologetically.

  ‘Yes, well… I suppose, if it’s that important…’ He glanced down at Nancy.

  ‘In the book under the phone,’ she said.

  ‘Right. Hold on.’ He headed out to the entrance hall, coming back moments later with a small, indexed book, which he flipped open. ‘Here we are.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Jane took it from him and made a note of the number she needed. ‘We won’t keep you any longer,’ she said, handing the book back to him. ‘Sorry to have bothered you both.’ She nodded to Dave to lead the way out.

  Outside, with Derek standing on the doorstep, she tossed the notebook to Dave. ‘Here. You’ll be back quicker than we are.’

  He nodded his understanding, tucked the notebook into a zippered breast pocket of his leathers, and pulled on his helmet and gloves while the others piled into Jane’s little car. By the time they had slammed the doors closed he had the Norton started and was lifting the kickstand. He swung the bike around in the road and roared away, heading for the station.

  By the time they got back, he would have a trace organised on Tanya’s mobile, which, hopefully, would give them a location in double-quick time.

  *

  Alone in the squad room, Dave picked up his desk phone and hit the button to accept the incoming call.

  ‘DC Miles, CID.’

  ‘Communications, Middlemoor. We’ve got a location on that phone you wanted to trace.’

  ‘Blimey, that was quick.’

  ‘Well, it wasn’t difficult. It’s at the registered owner’s home address.’

  ‘Eh? It can’t be. She did a runner from there not an hour ago.’

  ‘I don’t know about that, but the phone’s there and has been all day.’

  Dave sighed. ‘She didn’t take it with her then. That’s a pain. OK. Thanks.’

  He put the phone down, put his elbows on the desk and wiped his hands down over his face, sighing heavily. With no clue as to where she’d gone, they were going to have to put a twenty-four-hour watch on her flat. Fast-track wasn’t going to like that – not that that was Dave’s problem. It would be down to the boss to present him with that little gem. The joys of being in charge. Or, at least, climbing the ladder.

  In many ways, Dave was glad to stay down at the bottom. He might get shat on now and then, but at least he couldn’t be blamed for anything.

  The door opened and Jane led the rest of the team in.

  ‘What’s up with you?’ she asked straight away.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You look like a camel that’s just chewed a lemon.’

  ‘Well, thanks for that, I’m sure,’ he said, as the others laughed at the image.

  She sat down and turned her chair towards him. ‘So, come on. Spit it out.’

  ‘That trip to her aunt and uncle,’ he said. ‘It was a waste of time. She left her bloody mobile at home.’

  ‘She didn’t?’

  ‘She bloody well did. It’s been there all morning. I just got off the phone with comms.’

  ‘Shit.’

  ‘Funnily enough, that’s exactly what I was thinking when you walked in.’

  She peered at him, not sure which way to take the comment, then obviously decided to give him the benefit of the doubt. At least, she didn’t hit him.

  ‘So, what now, Einstein?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, now, she could be any bloody where, couldn’t she? With a friend, on her own in town, gone to her parents’ or just on her toes.’

  ‘Well, as helpful as that is, what are we going to do about it?’

  This time, she kicked him. ‘Why ask me? I’m not in charge here and nor am I the oldest.’

  ‘No, but you are the brightest.’

  ‘That’s just on the outside of her head,’ Dick said.

  Jane grabbed a marker pen from the mug on her desk and threw it at him. ‘Come on then, Gramps. Show us your wisdom and experience.’

  ‘Well, the first thing we’ve got to do is put a watch on her place, isn’t it?’

  Dave snapped his fingers and pointed at him. ‘Exactly what I thought.’

  He saw Jane look across him to Jill. ‘And fools never differ,’ she said.

  ‘OK, smart arse,’ he retorted. ‘Let’s have your brainwave.’

  ‘If she’s gone to her parents’, she won’t have taken the bus because they don’t run until teatime. So, we should check the cameras at Central Station. If she was going somewhere else, she might have used a bus, so we’ll have to check the bus station too. And St David’s again, seeing as it’s the closest to where she was when you lost her.’

  ‘Hey. Don’t rub it in, Red.’

  She grinned. ‘I’m just teasing. Now who can’t take a joke?’

  ‘So, we split up again?’

  ‘Yes. You take Central, Dick can have St David’s, I’ll go to the bus station and Jill can go downstairs, see what Peg’s got. That leaves Ben to call the Guv’nor and ask him to arrange the stakeout.’

  ‘Oh, thanks,’ Ben piped up.

  ‘Be grateful you can call Colin, not Fast-track,’ Dick said.

  ‘Or DI Underhill to you,’ Jane reminded him.

  ‘Yeah. Cheers for that. How come I get to do it, anyway? Dave ought to, really. He lost her.’

  ‘Yes, Spike,’ Dave said. ‘But, at least I was chasing her in the first place. And besides, you’re the junior. It’s part of the learning process. When you grow up to be big and strong like your Uncle Dick, then you can pick and choose what you do or don’t do.’

  ‘Right, Dad.’

  Jill laughed. ‘Don’t call him that – you’ll have
him panicking. All those years of back-pay on child support…’ She shuddered with mock horror.

  ‘He hasn’t paid for any of them yet. I can’t see him starting now,’ said Dick.

  ‘Don’t even jest, mate.’

  ‘Come on, kids,’ Jane said. ‘We’ve got a suspect to find before we retire. Which will be sooner in some cases than others.’

  ‘Right, Mum.’ Dave kicked the lever under her chair so that the seat dropped sharply beneath her.

  She swatted at his leg. ‘You bugger. Stop doing that.’

  ‘Got to bring you down to size somehow,’ he quipped.

  *

  Tommy’s gaze took in the dining room in a quick sweep as he entered. There were three tables in here. Everyone ate together – staff and young people alike. The theory was that they would all mix and mingle, so everyone would get to know each other and, after a while, get to think of the whole group as family.

  It was a good theory.

  Except that it was born out of the same utopian dreamworld as communism – in both senses of that word. Back here in the real world, there were inevitably gangs and tribalism, leaders and followers, weak and strong. Certain people were drawn to certain others for various reasons. Like tended to congregate with like. The usual gang were grouped together on the middle table.

  A couple of staff were sitting with them for the sake of appearances and to keep an eye on them. Most of the other staff were at the table nearest the kitchen. And on the one to his right as he walked in were the outcasts. The misfits. Again, a couple of staff sat with them, for the sake of form, but there was no conversation going on there like there was at the other two tables, and while the other two were crowded, this one had every other seat empty, with even more space at the far end, where Tabitha Grey sat isolated, separated from the others by three chairs on one side and four on the other.

  At fifteen, she was a beautiful girl on the cusp of womanhood. Her height would never allow her to grace a catwalk, but she had the grace he thought it would take, along with large, liquid-brown eyes, a button nose a lot like his sister’s – the reason, he presumed, that their father had given her the nickname – and rosebud lips that made her look almost doll-like with her soft, round cheeks and immaculate complexion.