Settled Blood (17 page)

Harris nodded.

‘I appreciate your honesty,’ Daniels said. ‘Had you met before?’

‘Only in cyberspace.’ The grin was back.

Daniels bristled. The remark was more than irritating. Millions of people around the world had fallen foul of web fraudsters and conmen. Yet people continued to post personal information on
social networking sites with total disregard to the consequences, some of which had been fatal.

‘I take it you mean the Internet?’ she said.

Another nod.

‘On which site?’ Gormley asked.

Harris hung his right arm over the back of his chair. ‘Facebook.’

Daniels waited for Gormley to stop scribbling. Harris was a cool customer. Either he hadn’t taken on board the seriousness of the situation or he had a perfectly reasonable explanation for
his meeting a girl half his age. But if that were so, why had he refused to speak to them without a solicitor present?

She moved on. ‘You told us earlier, you hadn’t meant to hurt her. What did you mean by that?’

Harris looked away.

‘Answer the DCI’s question.’ Alec Walton put a hand on his client’s arm. ‘It’s OK, Mark, you have nothing to hide. We discussed this.’

Harris was scared and it showed.

Walton looked at him.

But still he remained silent.

‘Could I have a few moments alone with my client?’ Walton said.

At such a critical point in the interview, Daniels was annoyed at the suggestion that they should take a break. Her suspect was beginning to lose his bottle and this was no time to take her eye
off the ball. Refusing Alec Walton’s request, she said, ‘Earlier you told me that you dropped Rachel Somers in Durham, Mr Harris. What time was that exactly?’

‘No comment.’

The brief spoke next. ‘DCI Daniels, if I could just—’

But Daniels was on a roll. ‘How long have you been corresponding with Rachel on Facebook?’

‘No comment.’

‘Suit yourself.’ Daniels looked at her watch. ‘Interview terminated at 3.05 p.m. Mr Walton, there’s no point in you hanging around. This is a major investigation.
We’ve got urgent enquiries to make outside of the area and time is of the essence. Your client is going to be lodged here until those enquiries are complete. If you wish to speak to him, see
the custody officer. If he has anything more to say, I’ll be happy to listen. I don’t have time for this.’

D
aniels hovered outside the interview room. She was experienced enough to recognize when an interviewee was ready to give up his secrets and, in her considered opinion, any
further questioning of Harris at this time was unlikely to bear fruit.

‘Lodge him in the cells,’ she told Gormley. ‘He’s giving us fuck all. What time are we meeting Dave Weldon?’

‘An hour?’ Gormley checked his watch. ‘Actually, we’d better get a move on.’

They waited until the custody sergeant had taken charge of Harris. Then Daniels led Gormley out of the station and into the car park. They argued over whose car to take and finally tossed a
coin. With a big smile on her face, Daniels unlocked her Toyota and got in – Gormley’s new toy would have to wait.

It was a lovely day, bright sunshine and a cloudless sky, and for that Daniels was grateful. A change in the weather might represent imminent danger to Jessica Finch if, as they suspected, she
was being held underground. Unclipping her sunglasses from the visor above her head, Daniels put them on and moved off. They had been in the car about half an hour when her mobile rang, a number
she didn’t recognize. She answered, leaving the phone on loudspeaker.

‘DCI Daniels, this is Alec Walton.’

‘What can I do for you, Mr Walton?’

‘I was hoping to catch you before you left the station. I don’t want you to get the wrong impression of Mark Harris – or me, come to think of it. You should know he acted
against my advice during questioning.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it. Next you’ll be telling me that he has a legitimate explanation for his contact with Rachel Somers.’

‘I assure you that is the case. He knows about your missing teenagers and he’s scared. Understandable, don’t you think?’

‘Or he’s as guilty as sin,’ Gormley muttered under his breath.

Daniels dug him in the ribs, lifting a finger to her lips to shut him up. He grinned at her, holding out a pack of gum. She shook her head. He took one for himself then put the packet back on
the dash.

Changing down, Daniels negotiated a left hander.

‘Watch out!’ Gormley yelled.

Daniels braked sharply as two young females stepped off the pavement without looking, one with a mobile stuck to her ear, the other pushing a stroller with a newborn baby inside and a toddler
riding a buggy board. The little boy was around three years old with the face of an angel and a mischievous expression in big brown eyes. He waved at her as they passed in front of the car and got
a slap from his mother for letting go of the handle straps.

The DCI wanted to stop and give her a piece of her mind but didn’t have time.

‘DCI Daniels?’ Walton’s voice cut through her thoughts. ‘Is everything OK?’

‘Depends, is Harris ready to talk?’

‘Ready might be a bit too strong a word—’

‘Listen to me, Mr Walton. If your client is going to front up and tell me the truth I’ll happily come back and interview him. I’ve got two missing girls and a dead one. So if
he’s going to piss me about, he’ll have a long wait. By all means relay that message to him and in the meantime the custody sergeant will review his detention.’

Walton didn’t respond.

‘I’ll wait to hear from you then.’ Daniels ended the call abruptly.

‘That went well.’ Gormley grinned. ‘It’s not like you to be so arsy.’

‘Yeah, well, I’m a bit sick of being messed around, Hank. A life is at stake – two potentially – and time-wasting bastards like Harris make my blood boil. He can wait now
until I’m good and ready.’

‘You think he’s our man?’

‘He’s hiding something.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘Could we be that lucky? I honestly don’t know if he is or not.’

They drove on in silence until they reached a signpost: A689 Nenthead and Killhope. Daniels followed it, joining a minor road, very narrow in parts. As they travelled further still, the
atmosphere both inside the car and out became heavy and the sunshine disappeared. Daniels looked up at the sky. A huge black mass of cloud had formed up ahead.

‘Don’t think I’m going to need these any more.’ Taking off her shades, she hung them over the visor.

Gormley didn’t answer. He’d fallen asleep.

As Daniels drove on, the landscape changed. Rolling hills and valleys were replaced by wilder and more rugged terrain. Snow poles flashed by on either side of the road, testament to the extreme
conditions encountered there in winter. And suddenly there was a crack of thunder so loud it damn near shook the Toyota from its chassis.

Gormley snorted, waking with a start.

Daniels switched on the wipers as the heavens opened. But even at full pelt they were hardly able to cope with the water raining down on them. Gormley yawned. Leaning forward, he peered through
the windscreen at the sight of lights ahead. A cluster of vehicles – all Land Rover Defenders – were parked off the road about half a mile away. Daniels drove towards them, eventually
pulling up alongside. Each vehicle bore the logo of the North Pennines Fell Rescue.

Someone they couldn’t identify waved through the steamed-up window of the lead vehicle. He leapt out and ran to the rear of the Toyota, water pouring off him as he opened the rear door and
climbed in. Weldon was wearing waterproof combat pants, a red cagoule with the hood pulled tight around his face and a white safety helmet protruding from beneath.

His expression was grave as the hood came off.

Pulling down the heavy zip of his cagoule he revealed a whistle, a GPS and a pair of binoculars round his neck. The latter he handed to Daniels, her side window being the least exposed to the
driving rain. Lifting them to her eyes, she brought them into focus. Panning the landscape, her morale took a dive. The rough ground she was looking at was dotted with shaft mounds, spoil heaps and
old mine workings as far as the eye could see. Worse still, gentle streams were forming into raging torrents of white water, splashing and bubbling all over the place. Just what she didn’t
need.

J
essica Finch was turning into her own medical emergency. If dehydration didn’t kill her, then hypothermia eventually would. Shivering uncontrollably, her core body
temperature dropped like a stone as the water rose around her, inch by painful inch. No longer still, its swirling currents lapped about her legs with such ferocity it would have swept her away had
it not been for the shackles securing her to the wall.

Move!

Jessica began walking on the spot, trying to stimulate circulation. She had little sense of time: minutes seemed like hours, hours like days and she was beginning to feel disorientated. The pool
of light was back on the wall opposite and she couldn’t work out why. Had her captors replaced the bulb? Or had she simply imagined the light going out as she slipped into
semi-consciousness?

Jessica turned her head to one side but it was difficult to make out what she was looking at. Shadows played tricks on the shiny black wall. One minute she saw a man’s figure, still as a
statue, the next she wasn’t so sure. Whatever it was, it seemed to be moving in and out of focus the more she looked at it.

She tried swallowing but her throat was dry and swollen.

Then she began to hyperventilate.

‘
Hello?
Hello?
Hello?
Hello?
’ she called out breathlessly, her weak voice bouncing around in the chamber. ‘
Who’s there?
Who’s there?
Who’s there?
Who’s
there?’

Nothing.

‘
Hello?
Hello?
Hello?
Hello?
’

The nibbling at her ankles no longer bothered Jessica. The potential for infection from whatever was swimming around in the water below could never be as bad as the sheer terror she was
experiencing right now. She shouted again, her voice echoing down the tunnel. She began to count the drips of liquid that had been driving her slowly insane since waking up in hell. They seemed
strangely reassuring now – like the rhythm of a pulse.

Her pulse.

She was alive!

And determined to survive her ordeal.

But as her heart-rate slowed to normal, the air in the chamber suddenly deteriorated and Jessica gagged as the smell of decomposing flesh crept up her nose and into her mouth and the image of
half-eaten corpses – mouths frozen open in permanent screams – rushed into her head.

This isn’t really happening.

It’s delirium.

Hallucinatory.

She tried pushing away those macabre thoughts, but they persisted. She shut her eyes and went back to her counting: one . . . two . . . three . . . louder now . . . seven . . .
get a grip! .
. .
until exhaustion took over and she was but four years old with a favourite storybook on her knee. She drifted off to sleep to the sound of her mother’s voice.

‘J
esus Christ!’ Daniels lowered the binoculars and looked at the two men. ‘Where the hell do we start the search?’

‘Did Lisa locate a geologist?’ Weldon asked.

Gormley nodded. ‘He has your number. Expect a call.’

‘It was never going to be easy . . .’ Weldon’s voice trailed off as he looked out of the window at the bleak landscape facing them. ‘But now the weather’s turned,
if we can’t narrow the field down a bit we’re going to be too late.’

The comment irritated Gormley. ‘Don’t be so bloody negative. You’re the fucking expert. We’re expecting you to find her – at least give it your best shot. You heard
what I said yesterday. There could be two of them now.’

‘I’m not a magician!’

‘Hey, you two!’ Daniels turned to Weldon. ‘Hank’s right, though, Dave. That kind of thinking isn’t going to get us very far. We need your guys to be up for this one
hundred per cent or we haven’t got a hope in hell of finding Jessica Finch alive. We know she’s here somewhere. I can’t bear to think that Rachel Somers is too.’

‘Don’t you worry about that.’ Weldon gestured to his team, waiting in their vehicles. ‘That lot will work ’til they drop, no question, and so will I. You just say
the word and we’re out of here.’

Daniels noticed the rain was getting worse. ‘Any ideas on how to proceed?’

Weldon thought for a moment. ‘Bearing in mind your suspect would’ve had to carry Jessica – either struggling or dead weight if she was drugged – I’d recommend we
start with the mines most accessible to this road.’

‘Good idea,’ Daniels said.

‘I disagree,’ Gormley cut in. ‘If I were hiding her, I’d probably do the exact opposite. He might have flown here, don’t forget.’

‘He’s got a point.’ Over their shoulders, Daniels spotted a caravan of vehicles making their way slowly up the hill. Through the binoculars she saw that they were specialist
4WDs, each one carrying the Northumbria police insignia. Headlights were on full-beam, illuminating a strip of tarmac that looked more like a fast-moving river than a road. She glanced at Weldon.
‘The cavalry are here. I suggest the TSG search for potential landing sites off-road and your lot cover the areas closer to the main drag.’

Weldon nodded. ‘Sounds like a plan to me.’

Daniels mobile rang: Alec Walton again.

Please God he’ll have talked some sense into Harris.

T
he custody suite was bedlam when they arrived back at the station. Walking through the door, Daniels almost felt like she was tripping. The air was thick with the unmistakable
smell of skunk cannabis. Word on the grapevine was that there’d been a big drugs bust that morning with a hundred grand’s worth of the stuff seized. What she hadn’t quite figured
on was sampling the goods herself.