Like This, for Ever

47




‘I WOULDN’T HAVE believed telling parents their child might still be alive would be harder than telling them he’s dead,’ said Dana, an hour later. She and Susan Richmond had just arrived at an all-night café in Lewisham, a regular haunt of the team when they’d been working late. Mark, Anderson and Mizon were all waiting for them.

Without being asked, the young owner, a Greek Cypriot called Kristos, whom Dana sometimes thought could make a fortune selling information on police investigations to the national press, put mugs of instant coffee and warm bacon sandwiches in front of them.

‘How are they holding up?’ Mizon asked.

‘Barely,’ said Dana. ‘They understand why we want to hold back the information of what we really found on the bridge tonight. And they’ve agreed to say nothing publicly until we make our statement tomorrow. Not that I’m taking any chances. The family liaison officer will stay with them overnight, with a uniformed presence outside their house to keep reporters at bay.’

‘We won’t be able to hold them off for long,’ said Anderson.

‘I know. The guv’s agreed to a media blackout until at least noon tomorrow. Some time in the morning, Scotland Yard press office will send over a draft statement for our approval. I’ve also spoken to Mike Kaytes. He’s the pathologist at St Thomas’s we use most of the time,’ she explained to Susan. ‘He’s happy to go along with us. You know Mike, I think he’s secretly enjoying the intrigue.’

‘You realize the parents will be starting to hope again?’ said Richmond.

Dana nodded. ‘They almost seemed disappointed when we told them we hadn’t found Oliver on the bridge,’ she said. ‘But I suppose it’s easy to judge when you have no idea what people are going through.’

‘It’s a very common reaction,’ said Richmond. ‘They want the worst to be over so they can begin to deal with it. People in their situation always say not knowing is the worst. That’s until they do know, of course, and then they’d give anything to have that tiny bit of hope back.’

‘Is there hope?’ said Mizon. ‘Is there any chance we might find Oliver alive?’

‘I’d say all bets are off with this one,’ said Mark, who, as usual, was the first to finish his sandwich and who, as usual, was eyeing up Dana’s. ‘Fred says the moss we saw on the bag is typical of what you’d expect to see growing on objects left in and around the river for a few weeks. He and Dave are pretty certain it was left there some time ago. Dave’s going to get his guys searching the other prominent bridges over the next few days, to see if there isn’t another one lying around.’

‘That’s all we need,’ said Dana.

‘The fox is puzzling me, though,’ Mark went on. ‘Presumably it’s just a piece of roadkill he scraped up somewhere, in case we brought dogs in. He wanted them to smell blood and the whole farce to become that bit more convincing.’

‘Except dogs would have ignored it,’ said Dana.

‘Exactly, which tells you something in itself.’

Richmond was looking from one face to the next. ‘What am I missing?’ she asked.

‘Cadaver dogs are trained to react to decomposing human flesh,’ explained Anderson. ‘They ignore animal remains.’

‘So Sweep knows a bit about how the police work, but not that much,’ said Richmond. ‘Which means he’s probably not a police officer. Or even someone on the periphery of the investigation.’

‘Exactly,’ said Mark.

‘Something to be grateful for,’ said Dana.

‘But if he’s not one of the good guys, albeit a renegade, then he has to be one of the bad,’ said Mark. ‘From what I can gather, this Sweep character has known stuff that only people on the inside would know. If he’s not one of us, he has to be either the killer, or someone in league with him.’

‘I can go through all his comments tomorrow,’ offered Mizon, talking directly to Mark. ‘Try and come to a view about which really do show inside knowledge and which are just lucky guesses.’

Dana had suspected Gayle Mizon of having a crush on Mark before now. Unfortunately, because Gayle was a nice girl and as straight as they come, he couldn’t see past Lacey-Bloody-Flint.

‘That would be a tiresome job but useful, thank you,’ said Dana. ‘We really need to know whether we can rule him out or not.’

‘What do you think, Susan?’ asked Anderson, and in spite of everything, Dana had to hide a smile. The profiler had been Anderson’s public enemy number one since she’d been introduced to the investigation. Now her opinion was important and she was Susan.

Richmond shook her head. ‘I daren’t send you off on the wrong track while Oliver could still be alive,’ she said.

‘Go out on a limb,’ said Anderson. ‘We will neither act upon it nor hold you to it.’

‘Promise?’

Were those two flirting?

‘Peter Sweep isn’t your killer,’ she said. ‘He’s a mischief-maker. I think when Gayle does her analysis tomorrow, she’ll find that every bit of his so-called insider knowledge is either a result of closely watching what’s actually going on, or lucky guessing. Creating the sort of public mayhem we saw tonight is what he gets off on. He will have been there, watching everything unfold, rubbing his hands with glee.’

‘Creaming his jeans,’ said Anderson, nodding in agreement.

‘Not the phrase I would have used, but I can’t argue.’

Good God, Anderson was blushing.

‘Oliver is still missing,’ said Mark. ‘Could a mischief-maker have engineered that?’

‘And Sweep knew about it before his parents did,’ said Dana.

‘This is doing my head in,’ said Anderson.

‘Could it be a prank?’ suggested Mark. ‘Could Oliver be hiding up with some mates somewhere? Maybe a bit scared now at the furore they’ve unleashed? There is something pretty childish about the whole bloody circus we had tonight.’

‘Oliver and Sweep fellow pranksters?’ said Dana. ‘It would take a pretty disturbed kid to put his parents through what the Kennedys have been suffering tonight.’

An electronic singing sound made them all jump. It was Mark’s phone. He looked at the display, then instantly up at Dana. He held eye contact for a fraction of a second before glancing down again. Not a look she’d seen on his face before. An expression that looked a lot like guilt. He began tapping out a response, leaning back in his chair so that no one would see the screen.

She was being stupid. Anyone could be texting him, even at this time of night. It could be someone from Scotland Yard, a mate, even his ex-wife. So why did she know for an absolute fact it was Lacey Flint?