Page 61 of The Dead Come to Stay

Off the trail, the hills were a matrix of boggy earth and hard rock. The girl in blue slid down a muddy incline on her backside, momentarily vanishing from view. Green took the hill at an angle instead, carving to the left and picking up speed as she raced after her.

Near the bottom was a ravine, presently swollen with runoff water. The girl plunged in, tripped against rocks or current or both, and fell face-first into the water. Green jumped in after her, grasping hold of the girl to lift her out. They both semicollapsed on the grass, the girl still clutching a plastic sleeve.

‘I’m sorry—I’m sorry!” she squealed as Green tugged it away from her. Inside was a brown manila envelope. She opened it to reveal a sheaf of crisp bills.

“I’m placing you under arrest,” she huffed. “You don’t have to say anything—but it might harm your defense if—” But by this point, the girl was wailing. Green stared at wet blond hair and spoiled makeup on what might have been a fifteen-year-old. “Oh for—Are you hurt or something?”

The girl shook her head but continued to cry and, possibly, hyperventilate. Green knelt next to her.

“Okay, okay now. Let’s breathe. In and out, slow. You’re all right.”

“I’m not. All right. I’m not.” Her words came out like gasping hiccups. “They gonna send. Me back. Don’t want. To go back!”

“Back where?” Green asked. The girl looked up, nose dripping.

“HM,” she said.

***

HM, Her Majesty’s Young Offenders, incarceration for troubled teens, young drug addicts, petty thieves. Green sipped hot tea;she’d gone home for a quick change after her dousing—she honestly felt bad that the girl couldn’t do the same. Best she could manage was to bring in a pair of Rachel’s scrubs and a sweatshirt.

“How old is she?” Gridley asked.

“Seventeen. I know, she doesn’t look it,” Green said. “She finally gave us the name of her guardian; foster mum. We’re waiting on legal representation, as she’s a minor.”

She called herself Rose, though her name turned out to be Rosalind Ellis. In and out of care homes, high school dropout, did some time for stealing.

“Job training center,” Gridley said, flipping through the print-fresh file. “Part of her early release; curfew with the foster, get some skill levels at the center.”

“Hold up, which one?” Andrews asked. He had two calls going, one on the landline and one on his cell. “Newcastle City Center by chance?”

“Yeah, actually.”

“Hold—hold on,” he said to the landline call. “Look here. That’s where our young friend Benny’s been jobbing out of, too.”

Green hovered over his shoulder. He’d scratched out a dozen notes on a pad at his elbow: Benjamin (Benny) Wendall, twenty-one, had denied knowing anything about anything, despite an attempt to flee (stopped at the roadblock). But it seemed he had been in and out of the same job center.

“Has form, too,” Andrews added, pointing to the mobile phone call ongoing. “Public drunkenness and assaulting a traffic cop.”

“Find out everything about the center, then. I want rosters with names before the boss gets in.”

“I’m already in.”

“Boss!” Gridley flew across the room to meet MacAdams. For a second, Green thought she might hug the man. “God, we’re glad you’re all right.”

“Mostly,” he said. He traced a finger delicately along the back of his head. “Better after a sleep, but headache lingers.”

Andrews managed to untangle himself from phone cords.

“Now we know why Chief Clapham always said you were hardheaded,” he said, becausesomeonehad to, and it might as well be Tommy. Green found herself grinning anyway, because she was damn glad to see him, too. And at some more appropriate point, she wanted the details about how exactly Jo Jones came to be the one to ensure it. There was something about her that made Green want to root for her.

“Got a lot of debriefing to do,” she said. “And we’re waiting on chaperone for a minor; want a coffee?”

***

“I met the firearms unit,” MacAdams said as they took plastic chairs in the kitchenette. “You took no chances, I see.”

“We don’t know who we’re dealing with yet, do we?” Green said, a trifle defensive. “Gold earrings are one thing, but they found a quarter-ton limestone plaque on the ground floor.”