Cold Blood by Jane Heafield (great books to read txt) 📕

downstairs. As he was climbing into his car, he saw Patricia’s bedroom light flick on. God, she was great.

Churchfield Police Station was closed until 8am, so he let himself in with his key fob and sat behind the reception desk. Data protection meant the PC was password protected, but nobody broke into a building full of police and the password was on a sticker on the monitor. He loaded up CONTACT, the system used to file a Misper – a missing persons report. He called Lorraine’s husband back.

An initial report needed such details as name, age, description, address, location missing from and locations frequented, as well as information regarding concerns the reporter had about the Misper’s likelihood to be sexually exploited, if they’d been missing before, were likely to harm themselves or others, or travel out of the country. He didn’t need all that. He asked Lorraine’s husband for the names and contact details of close friends and her vehicle registration, and then he hung up without a goodbye.

Initial report done, it was due to be reviewed as part of a Vulnerability and Risk Assessment, and someone would decide just how much effort should be put into finding the Misper. No risk meant doing nothing and reassessing the situation at another time. At the other end was high risk, which the Home Office had defined as A risk which is life threatening and/or traumatic, and from which recovery, whether physical or psychological, can be expected to be difficult or impossible.

Bennet marked Lorraine as high risk, which would allocate the immediate deployment of police resources. The case would be appointed a high-ranking investigating officer. As a DCI, Bennet counted: he put his own name in the box.

Usually, the Missing Person’s Bureau should be contacted if a person was gone for seventy-two hours. Now that Lorraine’s disappearance was noted as high risk, this action was required immediately. Bennet logged the details with them and also with the Major Crime Investigative Support unit of the National Crime Agency. Finally, he updated the Police National Computer, so that police across the country would know that finding her and her vehicle were a priority.

Within two minutes of making it all official, he got ‘pricked’ – the unofficial term South Yorkshire police used for receiving an automated message sent by its private SMS network, Holding Hands. Sure enough, the message asked him to urgently report to his immediate superior. No need, of course, because he knew exactly what the case was. And now it was official.

Because he’d designated Lorraine as the highest risk, senior managers would also be contacted. These people usually only got pricked for major events, like the kidnapping of a royal child or a terrorist bombing, and they weren’t going to be happy about being woken for a missing adult nobody.

So what? The ball was rolling. Bennet would deal with the backlash when it was time.

31

On the way home, Bennet called the Red Lion in Lampton, but got no answer. Unsurprising at little past six in the morning. As he was pulling into his driveway, Hooper returned his earlier call. Bennet quickly explained: missing woman, we’ve got the case. ‘I need you to put aside what you’re doing on the Buttery Park case for today and work this.’

He gave Hooper the names Francis Overeem, Betty Crute, John Crickmer, and Lorraine Cross, wanting them checked out on the Police National Computer. He gave his DC a rundown of events since yesterday, but didn’t mention that Lorraine was his son’s mother. He didn’t talk about his personal life to his team, even though he’d worked with some of them for years, and wasn’t sure how much they knew. Probably a lot, being detectives, but they knew better than to talk about it. He told Hooper to chase up Lorraine’s car and liaise with her husband for further information on her habits and friends and known haunts. More than likely, the husband would inform him of Lorraine’s connection to Bennet, but he could do nothing about that.

‘I also need you to get someone to drive down to the Red Lion public house in Lampton and… scratch that. Stick with what I gave you. Get moving, keep me updated.’

The action he’d been about to give Hooper would crawl its way through him to someone else, who would have to sanction the journey… too much time wasted. He had another job planned in that area, so he would take the Lion task as well. Better if he kept busy and cut down worrying time. He sent Patricia another message, now asking her to take Joe to school. Then he slid his car out of the driveway.

This time he had more urgency, and an early morning lack of traffic, and a warrant card to show any police who pulled him. Stepping in the car to stepping back out: thirty-three minutes.

He laid his Pathfinder in the secret car park behind the Lion and jogged out front to rap the big oak door. Publican Jonesy appeared at a first-floor window, sleepy-eyed. Bennet aimed his warrant card up.

‘Down you come, open the door.’

Damn, that felt good. It was a relief to finally not have to pussyfoot around this fool. It took Jonesy a few minutes, and he opened the door with obvious distaste. Bennet walked past him. Jonesy flicked the lights on. ‘So what’s this about? At this bloody hour. Not your film troublemakers again, I hope. You know as much as I know.’

‘I want to see your CCTV of Sunday night, when the film crew came in.’

‘Still at it, eh? What do you hope to see? Your people upped and offed. Place was heaving, so I don’t know what you think you’ll find.’

Bennet could have told Jonesy that the film crew were now officially missing and he was investigating it. He didn’t bother. He just stared at the landlord until the man wilted.

‘Okay, whatever. Come on. Let’s make this quick.’ Jonesy led him behind the bar and the curtain at