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Leaving Deacon to his work, Mairéad retraces her steps to Halley’s Renault. When she opens the passenger door he’s on his phone, watching a live Sky News feed shot from an overhead helicopter.
‘What’re they saying?’
‘That we have Elissa’s killer.’
Mairéad scowls. She hopes Judy Pauletto, the FLO, is keeping the Mirzoyans away from the TV. She’d like to drive down to Salisbury and see Lena, but there’s too much to do here.
Easing herself on to the seat, she carefully measures out her breath.
‘You OK?’ Halley asks.
‘Yes.’
‘You sure?’
She nods, staring straight ahead.
Bouncing along the track from the main road come two Skoda estates in Battenberg markings,POLICE DOG UNITprinted along the sides. The news choppers circle lower, greedy for images of this new development.
II
As they arrive back at the station the sky releases another deluge. In the time it takes to enter the building, Mairéad is soaked through. She’s about to haul Kyle North into the interview room for another round of questions when her phone rings. It’s Westfield, her chief constable, and he sounds stressed.
‘Why haven’t you charged North?’
‘We’re still gathering evidence. There’s a—’
‘You’ve got evidence coming out of your ears: Elissa’s possessions in his bedroom, Bryony Taylor’s diary and glasses …’
‘But we don’t have Elissa, sir, alive or dead. And we haven’t found Bryony Taylor, nor any of the other victims. If I charge him now, there’s a good chance he’ll go mute.’
‘He probably will. So what?’
Mairéad licks her lips. Her mouth is dry; her tongue too. In the last hour she’s developed a thirst that no amount of water can quench. ‘If he’s killed those girls, we want to repatriate them. I think there’s a better chance if we keep him on side. I want another session with him.’
‘Leon Meunier,’ Westfield says. ‘Lots of questions coming my way on that. Was it suicide?’
‘Don’t know yet.’
‘So North could’ve been involved in his death too.’
‘It’s possible.’
She hears raised voices in the background, a sudden commotion. ‘OK,’ Westfield says. ‘Do what you have to do. But keep me informed. No nasty surprises. I’m sure you don’t need reminding how much we’re in the spotlight on this.’
‘Understood, sir,’ Mairéad says, and hangs up.
‘Bad?’ Halley asks.
‘He’s got the world breathing down his neck. Wants us to charge North when we can, but not at the expense of cutting corners.’ Mairéad leans against the wall. ‘Goddammit, Jake. I really thought we’d bring her home alive. After the messages in those video clips, the code she hid in that letter, it felt like … like she’d done enough, you know?’
She closes her eyes, opens them. ‘In that interview room. Do you feel like you’re sitting opposite a child killer?’
‘Yeah,’ Halley says, grimacing. ‘I do.’
Mairéad rolls her neck.
‘By the way,’ he adds. ‘There’s an Arya Chaudhuri trying to get hold of you. Wants to talk DNA results.’