She didn’t stir.

He was frantic. His fingers flew to his jeans and he fumbled for a moment with the belt and then pulled them off. Kneeling down, he growled like a beast and grasped his penis, thrusting it deep into her. No foreplay, no gentleness. He pounded into her relentlessly, again and again, filled with pure hate.

* * *

Calladine had fallen asleep on his sofa again and woke with a start when he heard the front door open.

“Zoe?” Is that you?”

“Yep, Tom. Sorry I’m late. I know I said I’d be home to eat, but something came up.”

He looked at the clock on the mantle—nearly ten. He’d had no tea. He’d got back from the nick, sat down with a drop of scotch, and that was that.

“Working late?”

“No. I’ve been eating out with Jo. We went to that Italian place in Hopecross. The food’s great and reasonable too. You should try it sometime.”

“You and Jo are spending a lot of time together—you practically work with each other, too.”

“Not a problem. I like Jo.”

Calladine saw that look on her face, the one she had when there was something on her mind. “Want to say something?” he asked.

She paused and looked at her father. “I suppose I should say something. You’ll have to know sooner or later.”

“Know what?

“About Jo—well, about me and Jo.”

“Why, what have you two been up to?” There was something about the way she’d said that, something about the look on her face.

“Jo and I are fond of each other. Tom—we sort of clicked right away. You know how it is.”

Did he? He wasn’t sure what she was getting at. Did she mean

‘click’ in the sort of way he was familiar with—the ‘fancying someone’ sort of way?

“You’re struggling, aren’t you?” She shook her head. “Jo and I are happy to be together. You know…together?” She stood watching him, her hands on her hips. “I was hoping you’d guess, Tom. I’ve tried to give you enough clues. And you call yourself a detective!”

Was she saying what he thought she was saying?

“‘You and your estate agent friend, you’re…?”

“Yes, Tom—gay. I’m gay, we’re gay—a gay couple in fact.

And I’m not going to apologise or explain myself, so don’t make an issue of it. But it doesn’t bother you, does it?”

Did it? Truthfully, Tom Calladine wasn’t sure. He’d have to give it some thought, mull it over for a while. In the meantime he shrugged as casually as he could, rose up off the sofa and kissed her cheek.

“Be happy, love, that’s all I want for you. I’m envious in a way.

Your love life seems pretty simple in comparison to mine. I’m still debating what to do about Monika. Ruth says I should go and see her, apologise for being such an ass, but I don’t think she’ll go for it. Too much water under the bridge.” He sighed.

“Is that what’s been bothering you?” Zoe seemed relieved that he hadn’t reacted negatively to finding out she was gay.

“Not only that. There’s work as well. We’ve got a particularly nasty case on our hands at present, and I suspect it’s only going to get worse.”

“You have to let go sometimes, Tom. Taking up with Monika again sounds like a good idea. It’d get you out and take your mind off things. Is anything else bothering you?”

“My bloody cousin’s giving me grief at work. He’s responsible for killing a witness who was due to testify against him, and he’s had the damn nerve to use me as his alibi.”

“Is he telling the truth? Was he where he says he was? Can you vouch for him?”

“Yes, I can, and that’s the bloody problem.”

“Then he can’t have done it. Or can he?”

“Oh, yes he can; he’s a sneaky bastard. I just have to work out how, that’s all.”

“Perhaps I can help.”

“Are you sure you want to? I thought you liked him. You gave me the impression that you couldn’t wait to get to know him better.”

“I’m not that stupid. I’m a solicitor, Tom. Okay, so I might deal with house conveyancing, but I do know one or two criminal lawyers. After what you said I asked around, and you’re right: he’s a complete and utter bastard, and not someone to meddle with.”

Calladine laughed and handed her a glass. “I’ll drink to that.” He reached for the scotch. “But how could he be at the church and shooting a man at the same time?” He poured her a measure of whiskey.

“Well he couldn’t, could he? He must have done the deed either before the funeral or after,” she replied.

“But he didn’t. A fairly accurate time of death has been established, and that puts him in church—along with his goons.

Even allowing for a short window either way, I still can’t make it work.”

“You’re not thinking hard enough, Tom.”

“I’m thinking so damn hard it put me to sleep.”

“They are sure it was Fallon’s doing?”

“Yep. He was seen dumping the body from a bridge over the M62. Him, his goons and that posh motor he drives.”

“Well isn’t that enough?”

“No. He’ll wriggle out of it. What with my alibi, and somehow managing to prove that whoever saw them on the bridge was short-sighted or something, he’ll walk. He’s recently walked away from one sure bet—the drugs bust central thought they’d got him on.

Not even worth the effort.”

“So we’re back to the original question; how did he do it?”

Zoe disappeared into the kitchen and Calladine heard her putting the kettle on. “Scotch isn’t for me. Do you fancy a cup of tea?”

He shook his head. He’d stick with the scotch.

Zoe put her head around the kitchen door. “Of course there is a way he could have done it. He could have shot the guy and shoved him in the boot of that huge car he drives. The body could have been there all through the service. Have you thought of that?”

No, he hadn’t—and it wasn’t a bad idea. But how to prove it?

Chapter 13

Day Five

“Tom! Can I have a word please?” DCI Jones strode into the incident room.

“What can I do for you, sir?” Calladine looked round from the board, which he had been studying intently.

“The States, Tom—this list. I’m thinking of the cost of all those phone calls. Are they really necessary?”

He was at it again, the penny-pinching fool!

“I’m afraid they are, sir. That list is students from the university who may be missing. At least two students from the States have ended up dead on our patch, so we need to know how many more we could be looking at.”

“I appreciate that, but couldn’t we leave the spadework to the university? They were their students after all.”

“Yes but the bodies are ours, sir. And when others turn up they will be ours too.” He spoke as calmly as he could, trying hard not to lose it. Tom Calladine was ready to blow, and if the DCI didn’t get out of his face soon …

Jones sighed. “Budgets, Tom. We only have so much money to play with. This could blow our phone bill sky high.”

“Can’t be helped I’m afraid. At the very least, the families of the dead girls need to know.”

“Okay, contact them, but leave the others for the time being. I’ll sort something out. Something cheaper.”

And exactly how was he going to do that? Calladine inhaled deeply in an attempt to calm his anger. What did Jones imagine they were all doing here? That man had spent so long tucked in that little office of his that he’d lost all comprehension of what really went on.

Ruth was sat at her desk, shaking her head and swearing under her breath. “Bloody idiot. Does he think we do this for the fun of it?

We have to spend money sometimes. I bet he’s not seen the overtime bill yet, has he, sir?”

“Now now, Sergeant Bayliss. Take it easy. Let’s not get riled, and less of the cheek…We’ll give him until lunchtime and then we’ll crack on with the calls regardless. What we all really want is an end to this. He’s with us on that one, surely?”

“Monika?”

“Not yet, and please don’t go on about it. I’ve enough on right now.”