Part 10 (1/2)

'Did you get any indication of who this person was?'

'No. Nothing. She wouldn't tell me any more because she thought it might influence the way I behaved towards him. I said, ”Do you mean it's one of the team?” and she clammed up completely, saying she was probably imagining things.'

Tom waited, wondering if Louisa would have anything to add.

'If we hadn't been chatting in the corridor I would have asked for more details, but it didn't seem appropriate with other people walking past all the time. I should have pushed her, shouldn't I? If she was wearing that top I bet she was on a date, and I might at least have been able to tell you who with.'

Tom couldn't deny it because whoever Hayley had been planning to meet he or she hadn't come forward. And that wasn't a good sign.

Louisa Knight had seemed like the perfect person to ask to give a preliminary confirmation that the dead girl was Hayley Walker. A formal identification would also be necessary, but for now Louisa's word would be enough to use as the basis of their investigation, and as a doctor she wasn't going to be fazed by seeing a body. The faster they had some focus, the better their chances of catching the killer, and after the debacle with Leo it was important they got this right. Tom asked Louisa to take as long as she needed.

'Yes, it's her,' she said to Tom, her voice quiet and even. 'That's definitely Hayley Walker.' She held her hand against the pane of gla.s.s, as if wis.h.i.+ng her friend goodbye. Her eyes looked huge, swimming as they were with unshed tears, but she was composed. 'What can I do to help you catch the person who killed her?'

Tom looked down at her slight figure and felt an urge to reach out to her. Having been through a similar experience that morning, he knew how she must feel, and seeing the body again had reminded him of Leo. He wished to G.o.d he knew where she was so that he could stop worrying about her on top of searching for this killer.

'It would be helpful if you could try to remember everything Hayley said to you about the person who suddenly seemed interested in her. Was there anybody she was especially close to? Did she have a particular friend who might know more about this man?'

'Not that I know of. As I said, we're a friendly bunch and socialise quite a bit. But not in a best-friend sort of way, if that makes sense.'

It made perfect sense to Tom. Work colleagues were great to spend time with, but perhaps not always the people you chose to share your happiness or fears with.

'Could you give me any suggestions as to who it might be, do you think? It doesn't matter if you're wrong. I'll get my team to interview everybody at the hospital to see if she mentioned who she was meeting or where she was going.'

'As far as I can tell, they're a harmless bunch, and I've honestly no idea who she was talking about. I'll go home and make a list of everybody that Hayley came into contact with, if you like. What shall I do when I've finished?'

Tom fished in his pocket for his wallet and drew out a card. 'Give me a call. We'll get a list from the hospital too, but it would be great to look at the two side by side to see who she's most likely to have had some sort of relations.h.i.+p with.'

Tom's phone rang. It was Becky.

'Excuse me,' he said and walked a few feet away so that Becky's voice couldn't be heard.

'Tom, we've been through everything here at the hospital and nothing is standing out at the moment. We've been to Hayley's flat it's only about ten minutes away. We've found nothing to indicate where she went on Wednesday afternoon or evening. We know she left work early. She said she had a blinding headache and thought she was getting a migraine. It was nearly the end of the s.h.i.+ft, so they said she could go.'

'Did anybody speak to her later, to check how she was?'

'We haven't been able to find her mobile. It's probably at the bottom of the ca.n.a.l, so we're waiting to find out which phone company she was with to get her call records. But we checked her home phone, and only one call was received between her leaving the hospital and the time we a.s.sume she met her killer. It was from the cardiology ward.'

'I a.s.sume you've asked everybody if they spoke to her?'

'Of course, and n.o.body's admitting to it.'

Tom ended the call with Becky and turned back to Louisa, explaining that Hayley had left early but had received a call from the ward.

'Who would have been around on the ward? We need to concentrate on those who had the opportunity to phone her.'

Louisa frowned and shook her head.

'I'm sorry, but if the call came at around the hand-over time between the early and late s.h.i.+fts, everybody except the night staff would have been there. The phone's in use a lot, so even if we made a list of people who were seen making a call, it probably wouldn't help.'

'And of course,' Tom said, 'the call from the ward may have had nothing to do with it at all.'

23.

Josh had been a complete pain that morning, and Maggie could have done without him playing up. He wouldn't get out of bed, and then he got dressed so slowly she thought they were going to be late for school.

'Josh, come here,' she said as she sat on his bed watching him laboriously put his socks on. He shuffled across the floor and leaned against her legs. 'I know you're worried about Daddy. We all are. I'm not going to lie to you. I don't know why he had to go when he did, but there will be a good reason. I promise you.'

Maggie stroked his hair gently.

'Why do you have to go to work? Why can't you stay with us?'

The last thing she wanted to do was leave her children. But yesterday she had used the weather as a barely plausible excuse and if she called in sick today she knew the partners would start to think she was a skiver. She was on a three-month probationary period and right now the last thing she needed was to lose her job.

'I'm going to take you to school and book you into the after-school club. I will be coming for you, I promise just a bit later than Daddy picks you up. Okay?'

She couldn't see her son's face, but his head nodded.

'Come on then, and perhaps we can grab a pizza for tea tonight. How does that sound?'

This time the nod was marginally more enthusiastic.

The drive into work had pa.s.sed without Maggie noticing it all she could think of was Duncan: where he was; who he was. Even the thought of the interview she had to conduct with Alf Horton that morning didn't succeed in pus.h.i.+ng her thoughts away from her own problems. The colleague who had taken over from her yesterday had already called to say he was only too glad to hand her client back to her. Now she was at Manchester's divisional police HQ waiting to see Horton, and every muscle in her body was taut. She had to will herself to enter the room.

The new custody suite was better than most, but an interview room was an interview room. The smell of fear hadn't yet permeated the walls, but if anybody was frightened right now, it was Maggie, not her client. Her job was to find a way to get this dreadful man off to have him found innocent of crimes she was certain he had committed. Before facing him, though, she had asked Frank Denman to attend for the final time to a.s.sess whether Horton might be considered mentally disordered, bringing into question his fitness to plead.

'How have you been, Maggie?' Frank asked as he walked into the featureless room, removing his overcoat. For a man who she guessed was in his mid-fifties, Frank's clothes had always struck her as belonging to somebody older. Maybe it was the shades of beige that he favoured and the chunky knitted sweaters, which seemed to accentuate, rather than disguise, his slender form.

'Fine, thanks. Let's make a start, shall we?'

'Fine? Really? Why don't I believe that?' he asked, his eyebrows raised. 'You don't look fine. Do you want to talk about it?'

Maggie took a breath and let it out slowly. 'Thanks for asking, but honestly I'm okay. Just stressed by b.l.o.o.d.y Alf Horton. I'm sorry I was snowed-in yesterday, but I'm here now so let's get on with it, shall we?'

'Okay. You know where I am if you need me. Any time.' Frank pulled some papers out of his briefcase and stuck a pair of frameless gla.s.ses onto his slightly beakish nose. 'What do you know about personality disorders?'

'Not much. Why? Do you think that's what Horton has?'

Frank shrugged. 'At one time psychopathic disorder was cla.s.sified as a mental disorder. But not all psychopaths are violent, and not all violent people are psychopaths. Whether we can still play that card or not, I don't know. I suggest you look at the most up-to-date thinking on personality disorders. You might find it useful. I'll email you some links.'

'Thanks.'

Frank made his way into the adjoining room so that he could listen to the interview, and Maggie put on a headpiece so he could prompt her with any specific questions. Frank had opted to be absent from the interviews, convinced that Horton would respond better to a one-on-one situation, particularly if that one was female, but she was relieved that he was close by.

She looked up and saw the custody sergeant at the gla.s.s window in the door. He nodded to her the signal that he had brought her client.