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  ‘Sir.’

  ‘I seem to recall I said immediately.’

  ‘I was on the way, sir.’

  Silverstone stepped back, letting the door shut between them. Pete grimaced at Jane and went reluctantly after him.

  Nothing was said as they walked the short distance to his office door. He went in and left it open. Back in the chair behind his desk, he paused a moment, letting Pete stand there like a school boy before his headmaster’s desk. Then he took a deep breath in through his nose, neck thrusting forward, brow tightening. ‘Who the hell do you think you are, Gayle? John bloody Wayne? Well, let me be perfectly clear. You’re not and this is not the Wild bloody West. We have rules and, if you really want to keep your job here, you will abide by them. At all times and with no excuses.’

  ‘Sir.’

  ‘What is it that makes you think the rules of this police force don’t apply to you, Detective Sergeant?’

  ‘I don’t, sir,’ Pete replied, feeling none of the trepidation that he would have in the headmaster’s office.

  Silverstone seemed to calm. ‘You don’t.’ Then the illusion was gone. ‘Then why am I constantly seeing you in this office after some infraction or other? Are you deaf, defiant or uncaring about your career?’

  Pete took a breath. ‘For you, this is a career, sir. For me, I have little if any prospect of promotion beyond where I am. That’s been the case ever since either of us joined the force. This isn’t a career for me, it’s a vocation. It’s not something I do, it’s something I am.’ Pete spoke in an even, matter-of-fact tone. ‘I don’t set out to break rules or ignore regulations. I just occasionally find myself in situations where the most appropriate response doesn’t comply with them.’

  Silverstone let the silence hang as if he were expecting more. Finally, he spoke, still quiet and calm. ‘I see. So you see me as a career man rather than a grass-roots copper, is that it? A man with no vocation or concept of the real world, whose orders can therefore be ignored at will?’

  ‘That’s not what I…’

  ‘Well, let me tell you, Detective Sergeant,’ Silverstone barked. ‘I don’t give a flying fuck what you think of me. I am in charge of this station and, as such, in direct control your career, job, vocation – whatever you want to call it. And at this moment, I am suspending it. You are no longer part of this force until Professional Standards have completed their investigation into your conduct. Is that clear enough for you to manage to comply with?’

  ‘Perfectly, sir.’ He’d already been told by Colin that he didn’t need to be here today. This just reinforced that. ‘I’ve just got one thing to do before I go.’

  Silverstone exploded out of his chair like a volcano going off, his face bright red. Pete almost expected steam to erupt from his ears and had difficulty not smiling at the image in his mind as the senior man yelled, ‘Give me your warrant card and get out of my bloody office!’

  Pete stood his ground. ‘I was going to say, sir, that I need to inform Jonas Hanson’s daughter that we’ve found her father and she was fully vindicated in her suspicions. He’ll be charged with multiple rapes and murders later this morning.’

  ‘I don’t care,’ Silverstone snarled.

  Pete tossed his warrant card on the desk between them, reached for the door and opened it. He knew what the DCI meant, but he couldn’t help taking the opportunity to mis-interpret. ‘And that’s the real difference between us. Sir.’

  He closed the door and walked away, leaving Silverstone apoplectic and speechless behind him and knowing that, while he was under investigation by Professional Standards – as he’d expected to be after what had happened – the DCI would have his own problems to deal with. He recalled Louise’s indignant outrage when he’d told her about the lack of anyone outside their house last night. She’d immediately picked up the phone and made an official complaint of reckless endangerment against the DCI for neglecting his duty of care to his own officers and their families as well as the wider public, ensuring that the IPCC, the Independent Police Complaints Commission, would be looking into his conduct and competence.

  Pete would do what was right before he went off on enforced leave, regardless of DCI Adam Fast-track Silverstone.

  Minutes later, he was in his car with Jane Bennett at his side. He’d taken her rather than Ben for two reasons. One: she was a woman and he was on the way to deal with a woman who could well become highly emotional before they left her; a situation for which protocol demanded the presence of a female officer. And two: he didn’t want to put Ben in the position of facing the woman who had come to him as a trusted friend, simply in the hopes of finding her missing father.

  *

  ‘How do you think she’s going to take it, boss?’ Jane asked as he pulled up outside Sally Hanson’s 1960’s terraced house, not far from her father’s off the other of Pennsylvania Road.

  ‘She knew what she was doing when she called Ben.’

  ‘Yeah, but… Her own dad? Surely, she must have been hoping we’d exonerate him, not confirm what she’d found?’

  ‘I don’t know, Jane. We’ll see, won’t we? I’m going to see Dave Miles after this.’

  ‘You’ll need to be quick,’ she retorted. ‘He won’t be in there much longer. They’ll chuck him out as soon as they can – if not for the bed, for chasing the nurses. You’ll charge Hanson first, though?’

  ‘I’ll have to let you and Dick do that.’ He opened the car door and stepped out.

  ‘Do what?’ she demanded across the roof of the car.

  ‘Professional Standards,’ he said, setting off across the garden with its mostly bare lawn and uneven slab path. He rang the bell and knocked on the dirty white UPVC door.

  It was opened by a young woman who looked like life had worn her down over the few days since he’d first met her. ‘Hello.’ He raised a hand to Jane. ‘This is DC Bennett. Can we come in? It won’t take long.’

  She stood back, nodding towards a door on the left.

  They went into a through lounge-diner. It was clean and tidy if a little worn, Pete saw. She might not have much, but she made the best of it.

  ‘Have a seat,’ Sally offered. She took one of the easy chairs opposite them.

  When they were all comfortable, Pete drew a breath. ‘We’ve found your dad, Sally.’

  A small whimper escaped her throat. ‘Is he… All right?’

  Pete nodded. ‘He’s fine. He’s at the station.’

  She frowned.

  Pete leaned forward, almost reaching out to take her hands. ‘You were right, Sally. What you found was the real thing. He…’

  ‘No!’ she wailed, her head tipping back. ‘No.’ She hunched up, her face dropping into her hands. ‘All those…’ She looked up, her face tear-stained, eyes haunted. ‘He can’t have, can he? How could…? How could anyone…? There’s got to be…’

  Pete shook his head. ‘There’s no mistake, Sally, and no doubt. I’m sorry, but he did all the things you found evidence of. He’s being charged this morning.’

  She hid her face again, sobbing tragically.

  ‘I’m so sorry, Sally,’ he repeated.

  She sniffed and raised her eyes to look at him, her face tear-stained and mascara-streaked. She drew a breath. ‘It’s not your fault, is it? It’s his. But my life here in Exeter is over, isn’t it? Mum’s too.’

  It was a sad reflection on modern society, but that didn’t make it any less true. ‘We’ll do all we can to protect you. You know that. But honestly? You’d be better off moving. Changing your name.’ He recalled her fiancé, Tony. They might not be living an ideal life, but he seemed like a good man. A man who cared about her and their son. ‘Although I don’t know you as well as Ben, I can tell that whatever you do, wherever you go, you’ll make a success of it.’

  She reached out to him then, took his hands in hers. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘For finding him and for finding the truth. As much as it hurts, he’s hurt a lot more people a hell of a lot more. A lot of
families whose lives he’s ruined. I just wish I’d found that stuff a lot sooner. It might have saved… God knows how many lives.’

  ‘You can’t put that on yourself, Sally. None of it’s your fault. None of it.’

  ‘No, but… I can’t imagine what pain I’d feel if I lost Jem.’ She shuddered at the thought. ‘And he’s put how many people through that?’

  Pete couldn’t help thinking of Tommy, picturing him hanging in that tree over the river, as still as only a dead body could be.

  ‘Too many,’ Jane said. ‘Way too many. But it’s over now. You need to hold onto that. There’ll be no more.’

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  First and most importantly, I have to thank a number of people who helped during the writing of this book. As always, Pru was indispensable. Also retired magistrate Maurice Humphries and former traffic warden Lois Richardson who pointed me in the right direction when necessary, a certain desk sergeant at Heavitree Road who wished to remain nameless and the staff of my local police station in north Oxfordshire who provided valuable insight in procedural matters.

  As a reader as well as a writer, I have learned that credibility and credulity are essential in fiction. If you lose either, you have lost your reader. So, although these books are an entertainment, an important part of providing that entertainment is to maintain factual accuracy where a reader might know better. I hope and believe that I succeed in that aspect of the writing, as comments received suggest I do, but any inaccuracies that slip in are entirely my fault and I appreciate any comments from readers who spot them, if only so that I can learn and correct them.

  Exeter is a vibrant, busy and attractive city with a small-town footprint and a friendly atmosphere. Settled for at least two thousand years, it is an eclectic mix of modern, old and truly ancient and I wanted from the outset to feature is as much as possible in these books, almost as a character in itself.

  Nonetheless I sometimes have to take geographical liberties for the sake of security, privacy, commercial considerations or dramatic effect, sometimes creating fictionalised locations within the city or its surroundings. In this book, I have altered certain aspects of the Combined Court House, its immediate environs and the streets and alleys between there and the central shopping area of the city. Other examples throughout the series include the village of Holcomb Burnell, Risingbrook school in book one, the ice rink mentioned in book two and The Old Mill carvery which has featured in more than one book as well as the homes and workplaces of the characters. Otherwise I try to remain as accurate as possible to the true feel and topography of the city, both in order to please those who either live in or have visited Exeter and to do the city itself justice.

  I hope you have enjoyed this book and, if so, that you will take the time to post a review on whichever platform you purchased it through.

  I hope also that you are looking forward to Pete Gayle’s further adventures as much as I am.

  You can contact the author either through Facebook at facebook.com/crimewriter2016 or via the Jack Slater web site at http://jackslaterauthor.site123.me/

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY - FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY - FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY - SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY - SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY - EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY - NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY - ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY - TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY - THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY - FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY - FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY - SIX