‘Come on, Jack,’ she said. ‘Curious with you means more than just that. So tell me why you think there was something in her mouth?’

‘If you’ll give me a couple of minutes of your time, I’ll come and show you,’ he said.

‘Okay,’ she said, more softly now. ‘It would be good to see you anyway. It seems like ages since we talked.’

‘I know, but just business for now,’ he said, and then hung up.

As the hum of the street took over, he felt that excitement again, something he hadn’t felt in a while. Maybe he was finally going to write the story he wanted.

He headed for his car.

Laura looked at her phone.

She was outside the station, fresh from her trip to see Jane’s boyfriend. How did Jack know that there had been something crammed into Jane’s mouth?

She knew she needed to speak with Carson, as Jack would be gaining special access. At some point they might need to ask journalists to hold something back, but if they find out that someone is getting the inside track, they won’t agree.

She walked quickly into the station, and when she went into the canteen she saw that Carson was sitting at a table. Joe was queuing for food.

‘How did you get on with the ex-boyfriend?’ Carson asked, as she sat down opposite.

‘He wasn’t so ex,’ Laura said.

Carson looked interested at that.

‘He had applied to become one of us, and Jane was thinking of joining too,’ Laura said. ‘Daddy didn’t like that and so tried to split them up.’

‘Jane was an adult,’ Carson said.

‘Yes, but he could make it difficult for them, and Jane still lived at home.’

‘So Don is back in the frame?’

‘He was never really out of it.’

‘How does the boyfriend rate as a suspect?’

Laura thought about that. ‘He can’t be ruled out, but I believed him. We’ve got something else to think about now though.’

‘Go on.’

‘Jack has just called,’ she said. ‘He knows that there was something jammed into Jane’s mouth.’

Carson looked surprised. ‘How does he know?’

‘He didn’t say, but he’ll tell me when he gets here.’

‘He’s not thinking of interfering, is he?’

‘I don’t know what he’s doing,’ she said.

‘You know the force has never been comfortable with this.’

‘I know, I know,’ she said, her voice weary. ‘But Jack must know something worth listening to. Hear him out.’

Carson’s response was interrupted by the clatter of a tray onto the table. Joe passed three plates around with limp white bread and crispy tongues of bacon, and then scattered some sauce sachets onto the table.

‘I saw you and thought you looked hungry,’ Joe said to Laura. ‘I heard you mention Jack.’

‘He knows about the mud jammed into Jane’s mouth,’ Laura said.

Carson took a bite of his sandwich. ‘Do you talk in your sleep?’ he said, mumbling through his food, and when Laura responded with an arched eyebrow, he added, ‘the whispers were always going to start. And maybe it’s no real secret. There’s more than just us who know about it. There are the kids who found her, the uniforms who combed the scene. Someone will always talk. If we think that the rumours will end up in print, we’ll ask the press for an embargo, which means that Jack doesn’t get any special favours.’

‘I think there’s more to it than it seems,’ Laura said.

Carson stopped chewing at that. ‘How do you mean?’

‘Because he’s on his way here. He would have told me if it was just press rumours.’

Carson looked like he had lost his appetite. He put his sandwich back on the plate. ‘I just hope he isn’t using you to get closer than everyone else.’

‘I wouldn’t let him,’ Laura said, but from the scowl that Carson flashed across the table, Laura realised that she would be frozen out of the case if he tried it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jack had texted Laura to let her know that he’d arrived, and as he walked through the station doors he checked his pockets for his tools: a voice recorder, paper pad and pen. He was in the glass-fronted reception area, the windows like ticket kiosks, the seats opposite filled with bored customers waiting to be seen, some holding vehicle documents, one or two looking like they were waiting for a relative to emerge from the cells. As he glanced along the chairs, Jack saw a grinning face at the end. It was David Hoyle, the brash young defence lawyer from the court.

‘Mr Journo,’ he shouted over, and then leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head, his legs outstretched, expensive-looking brown brogues on his feet, a fawn-coloured suit and pink shirt making up the ensemble. Hoyle looked a step up from the sale-rack suits and gelled hair of the police station runners who seemed to do most of the defence work.

‘Whose life are you exposing today?’ Hoyle said, his eyebrows raised.

‘Oh, you know, sometimes it’s good to get away from the routine,’ Jack said, and grinned back at him. ‘Like writing up your speeches.’

Hoyle’s smile twitched, and then he waved away the dig. ‘I know you don’t mean that,’ he said. ‘I’m the best thing to happen to that courtroom in years.’

‘The world is full of undiscovered geniuses, Mr Hoyle,’ Jack said. ‘It’s good to finally meet one.’

Hoyle’s smile waned. ‘You know that none of this matters,’ he muttered, leaning forward, so that Jack had to get closer to hear him properly.

‘This is people’s lives,’ Jack said.

‘But we’re only passing through them,’ Hoyle said, waving his hand dismissively. ‘I talk like I make a difference, but I know that I don’t, not really. When I’ve finished, and you’ve written it up, will anything have changed?’ He shook his head. ‘No, not one thing. They go back to their messy little lives and I see them the next time they fuck it up.’

Jack was surprised. ‘You seem down today. A bad morning in court?’

Hoyle shrugged. ‘Sitting around here makes me like that. So what brings you to this neck of the woods?’

‘Just the usual journalist stuff. And how about you? Another cursed young innocent?’

‘None of us are innocent, Mr Garrett.’

‘Maybe so,’ Jack said, ‘but some are a lot more guilty. And the problem with lawyers is that guilt is just a verdict, and not a moral point.’

Hoyle smiled at that. ‘If I worried about morals, I would be a bad criminal lawyer.’

‘I’ll save the ovation for later,’ Jack said. ‘So what have you got?’

‘Just kids, doing what kids from the shitty part of Blackley do,’ Hoyle said.

Jack was rescued from the conversation by a door opening behind him. It was Laura. She tilted her head to tell him to follow her.

‘Enjoy yourself,’ Jack said to Hoyle, and then followed Laura further into the police station.

‘What did he want?’ Laura asked.

‘To impress me with his greatness,’ Jack said, and then he slowed as he saw Carson waiting for him.

‘What kind of mood is he in?’ Jack asked Laura in a whisper, nodding towards Carson.

‘The usual.’

‘Tetchy, then,’ he said, watching as Carson turned around and walked away. Jack took it as a sign to follow.

They settled in some low chairs along the edge of the canteen, the air heavy with the smells of lunch. Laura went to get some drinks.

Carson eyed Jack with suspicion. ‘Laura tells me that you’re not really pursuing this story.’

‘Like she said, not really.’

‘But you were at the press conference, and it was your name by the story on the website.’

‘It was just to give the local angle if the nationals became interested, and the local rag wanted to use it,’ Jack said. ‘I still need to put food on the table.’

Carson placed a newspaper in front of Jack, who looked down and saw the headline How Many More?

‘Does this have anything to do with you?’ he said.