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get under their skin if you can. If there’s anything about any of them you don’t like the sound of let me know, and we’ll interview them formally.’

As the CID room began to empty Matilda picked up her mobile and made a call. Scott Andrews answered straightaway as if he had been waiting for her to ring.

‘Yes, boss?’

‘Where are you?’

‘We’re just about to head back home.’

‘Don’t bother. I need you to go and see Julia Palmer again. It’s leaked out about Ryan being murdered. Tell her the story is going to break later today and it’ll be all over the TV news channels. She needs to tell us where Ryan’s parents are.’

‘I doubt she will.’

‘Don’t give her the option, Scott.’

Matilda hung up and suddenly wished she had sent Rory Fleming to Norwich instead. He had a much more forceful temperament about him than Scott. Fingers crossed he would find his inner Rory.

THIRTY-THREE

Matilda didn’t bother knocking on the door to the ACC’s office. She pushed down the handle and flung the door open. Valerie sat up, startled.

‘Matilda! What’s going on?’

‘The press know there’s been a murder at Starling House?’

‘What? How?’

‘I’ve no idea.’ Matilda stormed to the desk and stood in front, hands on hips. She didn’t bother taking a seat. She didn’t plan on staying. ‘I got a call from a crime reporter on The Star asking about it.’

‘What did you say?’ Valerie asked looking nervous, probably remembering the last time Matilda had spoken to the press and landed herself, and the force, in a heap of trouble.

‘Nothing. I didn’t say anything,’ Matilda replied firmly. ‘You’ll need to give a statement though. They’re bound to print something in today’s paper. Once it’s out we’ll have press from all over the country descending. And not just the newspapers either.’

‘Yes, Matilda, I know,’ Valerie said, gripping the bridge of her nose. The tension and agony of worry was etched on her face. ‘We don’t need this right now. South Yorkshire Police has been in the news enough to last us a lifetime.’

Matilda’s eyes fell on a book hidden beneath a file on Valerie’s desk. When she entered the room, the ACC had quickly moved things around. She squinted and angled her head to get a look at the spine. She was reading Carl.

Shit, it’s out today.

‘How’s the investigation going?’ Valerie asked, following Matilda’s gaze, and clearly wanting to distract her.

‘What? Oh. Well, all the inmates and staff have been interviewed but there are some I want to talk to again.’

‘Any in particular stand out?’

‘Not at the moment.’

‘How’s DC Andrews doing in Norwich?’

‘He’s going back to speak to Julia Palmer. She knows where Ryan’s parents are but she’s not telling us.’

‘Right.’ Valerie’s face was almost red. She looked tired, stressed, and like her blood pressure was off the scale. ‘I’ll give The Star a call and go from there; maybe a full statement later if a fleet of media turn up. In the meantime, I want you to make some headway on this case today. I want either an arrest or an arrest imminent by the end of the day.’

Matilda could understand Valerie’s angst but it was hard not to take her tirade personally. Yes, the case needed to be solved quickly, but she could only go where the evidence took her.

‘Keep me informed, Matilda,’ Valerie called out as the DCI made her way out of the office. ‘I want to know everything that is going on. And I mean, everything.’

In the corridor, Matilda could feel the tell-tale signs of a panic attack coming on. Why was Valerie reading the book about Carl Meagan? What was the purpose of knowing what a grieving mother thought of South Yorkshire Police, and Matilda Darke as a detective? She wondered how many other officers in the station would be reading it. She had noticed people giving her lingering glances as she passed them in corridors, hushed tones from uniformed officers in the canteen.

This wasn’t going to go away. With the release of the book there were interviews and recaps on the case in the media. When the paperback came out there would be additional material and an update, so more interviews would appear in newspapers and on TV. If the book led to more sightings there would be pressure on South Yorkshire to reopen the case and act on information received.

There was no escaping the fact that Carl Meagan was to be a permanent resident in her head and would forever be reminding her of her failings. With nobody actively looking for him it was highly unlikely he would be found. The seven-year-old would be a fixture alongside her husband.

Carl, meet my husband, James. James, please take care of Carl.

THIRTY-FOUR

Pat Campbell had stayed the night in Manchester, inviting herself back to her son’s flat. She sent Anton back to Sheffield. He hadn’t brought his medication with him, and the fish needed feeding anyway. Pat had spent the evening trying to get John to reveal more information about the Hartley case, but he made it obvious he didn’t want to talk about it. Every time she brought up the subject he had a look of faraway sadness, as if he was reliving the horror all over again. Eventually, she took the hint and probed him further about his relationship with Diane.

The next morning, she cooked John a fry-up for breakfast, which brought back the smile she missed seeing on a regular basis. As they parted, she gave him a tight hug and told him to take care of himself. Pat had been in the police force her whole working life; she knew of the dangers her son faced on a daily basis. John told her he would be fine, then warned her not to go kicking the hornet’s nest while she played at being Jessica Fletcher.

The taxi turned slowly onto a narrow road with cars lined on both sides. The road was built up of two rows of terrace properties – no front gardens, one window

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