I thought about the information Peggy had told us as we went back to the car. There were several residents we’d not managed to speak to, but the trip had certainly been made worthwhile by what Peggy had told us.
“She must have remembered wrong,” Stephen said as I drove us back to the station.
“You think?” I said, though I knew what he was referring to.
“The CCTV shows that no-one came in after Maddie. Peggy can’t have heard someone follow her up the stairs, or not then, anyway.”
I made a noise of disagreement in my throat. “It could’ve been someone already inside the building,” I pointed out. “Another resident perhaps.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Stephen conceded before clearing his throat. “She was helpful, anyway. If Maddie was smiling at Peggy, she wasn’t worried about seeing her boyfriend.”
“Oh I don’t know about that,” I said, playing devil’s advocate again. “She could have been hiding it, being a good actor.”
“Alright, alright,” Stephen huffed, “what do you think then? Since you’re gonna shoot down all my ideas.”
I winced. “Sorry, mate, I didn’t mean to make it like that. I’m looking at it from all angles, that’s all I meant. They’re good ideas.”
Stephen snorted. “You don’t need to placate me. Go on, then, have you got any genius ideas?”
I wrinkled my nose. “Not especially, sorry. We can double-check the CCTV, but I reckon you’re right. We would’ve noticed anyone who’d come into the building after Maddie, wouldn’t we? Peggy must have heard a resident, or got her timings muddled, though she sounded pretty certain,” I added thoughtfully.
Stephen opened his mouth to respond, only for the police radio to crackle, calling for us to answer. Since I was driving, Stephen answered it. I couldn’t give it my full attention as I took us around a busy roundabout, but I got the gist.
The number plate of Alec Banks’s car had been picked up on one of the traffic cameras, but the traffic police didn’t have a vehicle free to track him down right now. We were being requested to tail Alec subtly until the traffic guys could send someone over who was properly trained in high-speed driving and interception. I clenched my hands on the steering wheel, thrilled by the thought that, if all went well, we might be face to face with Alec by the end of the day. We’d be able to grill him for answers on what exactly had happened that evening and, hopefully, pin him down as an attempted murderer.
“Damn,” Stephen muttered, setting the radio down after he’d promised that we were on our way.
“Aye,” I agreed, turning on the siren before I put my foot down on the accelerator.
Six
We’d been filled in in detail on where Alec had been spotted not five minutes ago, and which way he’d been headed when the camera caught him. I couldn’t exactly remember what Alec’s car looked like, so I asked Stephen to look it up on the system with the police tablet we kept in the glove box.
The traffic parted in front of me as we approached with the siren wailing, but too slowly. Still, I took us towards the location we’d been giving as fast as I was able, and as was safe, and the radio chirped with the information of Alec being picked up on another camera.
He was still on the same road, and I didn’t have to change my direction. “He’s heading out of town,” I said, thinking aloud.
“Yeah, towards Clifton Moor,” Stephen said.
“Where’s he going?” I muttered. “What’s out there for him? His sister’s not there.”
As we drew closer to where Alec had last been spotted, I turned the car’s siren off and slowed to blend in with the other cars. Stephen and I were quiet as we scanned the road, trying to pick Alec’s car out of the cars we were passing.
The radio turned on, letting us know that the traffic police were available now, and did we have eyes on Alec? Stephen replied in the negative, but a moment later, I lifted my hand from the wheel to point in front of us.
“There,” I said. “That’s the right make, isn’t it?” Stephen craned his head but couldn’t seem to spot it. “At your two o’clock.”
“Got it,” Stephen said, picking up the radio to fill the other police officers in.
“I wish we knew where he’s headed.”
“As soon as he spots us tailing him, he could bolt,” Stephen cautioned.
“Aye, I know,” I murmured. We’d both lowered our voices as if Alec might overhear us. “Still, I’d love to know where he’s been hiding out these last few days.”
It could get dangerous, for both police and civilians, if Alec decided to race off and yet I couldn’t help but want to tail him to see which way he was headed.
“Tell the traffic lot to hang back for a minute,” I told Stephen quietly.
“Mitchell,” Stephen said, uncertain.
“Just for a bit,” I said sharply. “We’ve no guarantee he’ll talk when we get him. He might not even be the one who’s driving! If we can figure out where he’s-”
It was too late now, as the traffic police came charging in from down a sidestreet. Alec made a brief attempt to escape by putting his foot down, but a second police car cut him off up ahead, and he was swiftly cornered. My heart pumping from the tension of it, I pulled the car over to the edge of the road, where Alec was being corralled.
“Sorry, mate,” Stephen said, sounding genuinely apologetic, though I don’t think he’d been completely convinced by my argument for following Alec.
“It’s alright,” I said. “At least we got the car. Now let’s hope it was actually holding Banks and not some other poor sucker.”
Stephen and I climbed out of the car and strode towards where the other two police cars had boxed Alec in. As we approached, the car door was pulled open, and a young man was encouraged with firm hands to climb out. His head was twisted around so that I couldn’t see his face, but his dark hair and tall, wiry build gave me hope it was Alec.
I sped up slightly, and Stephen trotted a couple of steps to catch up. “You think it’s him?” Stephen asked, slightly out of breath.
“Looks like it.”
The other police officers looked up as we came over and one of them lifted a hand in greeting, which I returned. One of them was busy getting the driver’s hands cuffed while another had what looked like a driver’s license in hand.
“Is it our bloke?” I asked when we reached them, moving around to see the driver’s face as I spoke. He looked up at the sound of my voice, and I felt a rush of relief when Alec Banks’ face looked back at me, his lips curled in a snarl and his brows drawn tightly together in hatred.
“Sure is,” the traffic officer confirmed, and held out the driving licence towards me. Sure enough, it bore Alec’s name and picture, and I nodded in satisfaction.
“Thank you all for your help,” I said.
“You want him in your car?” another officer asked me.
“Aye, why not?” I agreed. “That’d be more efficient.” Rather than the traffic police having to go out of their way, Stephen and I could take Alec straight to Hewford to be processed and interviewed.
Alec was walked over to our car and loaded into the back, ignoring his growled protests and weak struggling. The car door firmly shut, I shook the hand of one of the officers who’d helped us out.
“We appreciate the helping hand,” I told him, and he nodded.
“No worries. Hope you get something useful out of him.”
Aye, me too, I thought as I glanced back at our car, Alec stowed safely inside.
“Shall I take Banks’s car,” I asked Stephen, “or do you want it?”
He gave an easygoing shrug. “I’m not fussed, mate.”
“Alright, I’ll spare you Banks’s whining, then,” I said, cracking a smile. “See you back at the station.”
Stephen chuckled, patting my shoulder before he headed off towards Alec’s car. The other police cars were already pulling out, heading off to their next job, no doubt. I didn’t envy them the fast-paced and hig
h-stress nature of their jobs, though I knew that it was perfect for some people. No doubt they’d find my more investigative, desk-based job as dull as drying paint.
From my experience of transporting suspects in the past, I’d been expecting Alec to claim innocence, or at least attempt to bargain or argue with me. But contrary to my expectations, Alec sat in a sullen silence all the way back to the station. It gave me some peace and quiet, certainly, but I feared that it didn’t bode well for getting Alec to tell us what had happened to Maddie. He was smart to keep a lid on it, but it wasn’t exactly helpful for us.
At the station, Alec put on a show of resisting as I escorted him out of the car and over towards the front doors.
“Mate, quit it,” I said firmly. “You’re not doing yourself any favours.”
He sneered at me, but didn’t answer before letting me steer him inside the building. I handed him off to the officer on duty at the custody suite, along with his wallet and license.
“I want a lawyer,” I heard him snap at the officer as I was turning to walk away.
“And you’ll get one,” the officer told him calmly, her voice getting quieter as she walked him away, “but we’ve got a bit to do before that.”
I rubbed my aching forehead as I headed up the stairs back to my desk. Stephen had unluckily taken a slightly different route to me and gotten caught in traffic, he’d told me over the radio, so he wasn’t back just yet.
My stomach was beginning to complain with hunger, but I ignored it for now and settled down at my desk to begin all the paperwork that needed to be filled now we’d taken Alec in.
I’d only just gotten started when my desk phone rang, making me jump.
“Hello?” I said.
“DCI Mitchell?” The voice was female, and I didn’t immediately recognise it.
“Aye, speaking.”
“It’s Sam,” she said, “Sam Rosanes.”
“Oh!” I said, pleased. My face flushed slightly with embarrassment that I hadn’t placed her voice until she’d introduced herself. “I’m sorry. Did you have news for me?”
“I do, but I’m not sure it’s what you’ll want to hear,” she said apologetically. “I’ll be over in a moment to show you, if you’ve got a minute?”
“Sure,” I said, surprised. “You don’t want me to come over there?”
“No, it’s okay,” she said. “I won’t be a moment.”
She hung up, and I released a breath, instinctively reaching for my coffee mug to wet my throat, but it was empty, and I didn’t think I had time to grab another one before Sam turned up. I was getting out my notebook to take notes when she turned up, giving me a small wave and a smile as she approached. I’d forgotten how tall she was in the interim time since I’d seen her last and had to lean back in my chair as she came to stand beside my desk.
“What’ve you got for me?” I asked. She’d said the results wouldn’t be what I was hoping for, so I didn’t get my hopes up.
Her lips tightened slightly in an apologetic smile. She passed over the papers she was holding, and I looked down at them, though the string of data didn’t mean much to me at first glance.
“The blood found on the stairs and at the base both belonged to Maddie Packham,” Sam told me.
I nodded, not unsurprised by this. “And fingerprints?” I asked.
She shook her head with a grimace. “We couldn’t get any that were complete enough to identify. The railing was too smeared.”
“Okay,” I sighed, disappointed. I gave her a weak smile, setting the papers down on my desk. “Thanks for letting me know.” I picked up my coffee cup and pushed my chair back, making Sam back up a step to give me space.
“You’re getting a coffee?” she asked.
“Aye,” I said, before glancing sideways at her.
There was a slight tinge of colour in her high cheeks, and she wasn’t quite meeting my eyes.
“Did you want to join me?” I asked hesitantly, hoping that I was reading her signals right.
“Oh!” she said, blinking at me. Her eyes were a pretty hazel colour that caught the light when she looked over at me. “Yeah, that’d be nice.”
I gave her a smile. “Are you a tea or coffee person?” I asked as we walked over together. I sent her sideways glances as we walked, wanting to fix her firmly in my memory, and she seemed to be doing the same.
We chatted easily, and she grew animated with interest when she heard that I was planning to do a marathon fairly soon. I was chuckling at her teasing me when Keira came into the break room and made a beeline for the kettle.
“Afternoon, Mitchell.” She sent me a polite smile.
“Hello, Adams.” I gave her a nod and lifted my coffee mug up. “Getting on alright?”
“You know how it is,” she said pleasantly. “We’re always busy, even when I’m not running around for your cases.”
“Really?” I joked. “And I thought I was the only one here running around like a headless chicken.”
“You are,” Keira shot back, the slight uplift of her mouth making it clear that she was teasing. “I manage my time effectively, unlike some people.”
I put a hand on my chest. “You wound me.”
She flicked her fingers at me carelessly before she left, her mug of tea in hand. I shook my head with a chuckle as she headed out, glancing over at Sam to find her watching me with raised eyebrows.
She surprised me by saying abruptly, “You two seem… close.”
“Oh,” I said, “I suppose you could call us friends.”
Sam seemed to have shed some of her earlier shyness as she asked directly, “Not something more?”
“No,” I said. We had been briefly more than friends, but it’d never been meant to last, and we were on friendly terms still. Slightly uncomfortable with Sam’s questions, I cleared my throat and took a sip of my coffee. “Better get back to it.” I nodded in the vague direction of my desk.
Sam looked slightly pained. “I’m sorry for being nosy,” she said.
“Don’t be.” I smiled and shrugged. “I’m a detective. It’s my job to poke my nose in. I can hardly criticise when other people are curious.”
She smiled back, looking relieved. Perhaps she was about to say something, or I was, but Stephen appeared in the doorway before we could find out.
“Darren?” he said.
I sighed, giving Sam an apologetic look. “See you around?” I said hopefully, and she nodded, before I followed Stephen back to our desks.
“Did I interrupt something there?” Stephen said as soon as we were out of earshot. The slight smile on his mouth said that he knew very well that Sam and I had been talking.
“What was so urgent?” I said, ignoring his query.
Stephen huffed, visibly disappointed. “Banks will be ready for interview soon, and we need lunch before then. I bet you’ve not had anything yet?”
“You and your mother henning,” I complained, but when he lifted up a plastic bag and offered me a cheese sandwich, I took it readily enough.
“You love it really,” Stephen teased, dumping a packet of crisps and a cereal bar on my desk before tucking into his own meatball baguette.
I grunted noncommittal, though my stomach was more than happy to have something in it other than coffee and biscuits.
“You’ve got to keep your energy up for your marathon.”
I rolled my eyes at him, my mouth full of bread. “Christ, I can feed myself.”
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” Stephen made an unconvinced noise in his throat as he opened up a packet of Malteasers. “I nabbed one of his chocolates in return for that comment.
“He’s called his sister,” Stephen told me as we ate.
“Yeah?” I said, surprised. “They’re close then, I suppose.”
Stephen shrugged. “Might be, or maybe he’s just not got anyone else. He certainly didn’t call his ex-wife.”
I grimaced. “Not many would call their ex for help when they’re being he
ld in custody. Has he gone for private legal advice or the duty solicitor?” I asked.
“Duty solicitor, I think,” Stephen said. “I don’t think he’s rolling in it, exactly, even if he does look like a ruddy model.”
I huffed a laugh at that. “I didn’t know you’d noticed, Steph.”
Stephen grumbled. “Bit hard to miss it.”
I shook my head at him, still smiling slightly. “When do we get to talk to him, then?” I asked.
Stephen checked his watch. “We’ve got about ten minutes to finish up. Better drink your coffee.”
“If you think I take that long to drink my coffee,” I said, pretending offence, “you don’t know me right well.”
Stephen scoffed. “I know you can down it like a damn tequila shot, doesn’t mean you should, though. You’re gonna get a stomach ulcer, the way you’re going, mate.”
I raised my eyebrows at him. “Ouch, Huxley.”
He sent me a sheepish smile. “Just looking out for you. Got to have someone willing to tell it to you straight, right?”
“Not that straight,” I protested, finishing up my sandwich and crushing the packaging. “You could bend it just a little, soften it up a bit. Maybe buy me a couple of beers before you break it to me, y’know?”
“Nonsense,” Stephen said, patting me on the back hard enough to startle a cough out of me. “Nothing wrong with a bit of tough love.”
It was about time to meet Alec Banks, so we tossed our rubbish and headed on down, still bickering good-naturedly.
Alec had been shown to an interview room, and Stephen and I went inside. I had my notepad and a folder out and set them both down on the table as I took a seat across from the man, who was glaring at the pair of us.
“I’m DCI Mitchell, and this is DI Huxley,” I said as I got the recording machine set up. “Can you confirm your name for us?”
He narrowed his eyes at us. “No comment.”
I released a heavy breath, resisting the desire to roll my eyes.
“You’re Alec Banks,” I said flatly, “judging by your driving licence, your car, and your social media pictures.” Alec said nothing, and I pulled a picture out of the folder I’d brought down with us. “Do you know this woman?”
Close to Home (A DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thriller Book 4) Page 7
