Aftermath

Their coffee arrived and both took a moment to sip. It tasted wonderful to Banks, who hadn’t got his usual three or four cups down his gullet that morning.

“But we do have a potentially serious problem, don’t we?” Hartnell went on.

Banks nodded. “PC Taylor.”

“Indeed.” He tapped the file folder. “Probationary PC Janet Taylor.” He looked away a moment, toward the window. “I knew De

“What about PC Taylor?”

“Can’t say I know her. Have the proper procedures been followed?”

“Yes.”

“No statement yet?”

“No.”

“Okay.” Hartnell got up and stared out of the window for a few moments, his back to Banks. When he spoke again he didn’t turn round. “You know as well as I do, Alan, that protocol demands the Police Complaints Authority brings in an investigator from a neighboring force to deal with a problem like this. There mustn’t even be the slightest hint of a cover-up, of special treatment. Naturally, I’d like nothing better than to deal with it myself. De

“True enough.” Banks, like every other policeman, had had to deal more than once with the outrage of men and women who had seriously hurt or killed criminals in defense of their families and property and then found themselves under arrest for assault, or worse, murder. At the moment, the country was awaiting the jury’s verdict on a farmer called John Hadleigh, who had used his shotgun on an unarmed sixteen-year-old burglar, killing the lad. Hadleigh lived on a remote farm in Devon, and his house had been broken into once before, just over a year ago, at which time he had been beaten as well as robbed. The young burglar had a record as long as your arm, but that didn’t matter. What mattered most was that the pattern of shotgun pellets covered part of the side and the back, indicating that the boy had been turning to run away as the gun was fired. An unopened flick-knife was found in his pocket. The case had been generating sensational headlines for a couple of weeks and would be with the jury in a matter of days.

An investigation didn’t mean that PC Janet Taylor would lose her job or go to jail. Fortunately there were higher authorities, such as judges and chief constables, who had to make decisions on such matters as those, but there was no denying that it could have a negative effect on her police career.

“Well, it’s my problem,” said Hartnell, rubbing his forehead. “But it’s a decision that has to be made very quickly. Naturally, as I said, I’d like to keep it with us, but I can’t do that.” He paused and looked at Banks. “On the other hand, PC Taylor is West Yorkshire and it seems to me that North Yorkshire might reasonably be considered a neighboring force.”

“True,” said Banks, begi

“That would help keep it as close as we can, don’t you think?”

“I suppose so,” said Banks.

“As a matter of fact, ACC McLaughlin’s an old friend of mine. It might be worthwhile my having a word. How’s your Complaints and Discipline Department? Know anyone up there?”

Banks swallowed. It didn’t matter what he said. If the matter went to Western Division’s Complaints and Discipline, the burden would almost certainly land in A

“Don’t you think it might seem just a bit too close to home?” he said. “Maybe Greater Manchester or Lincolnshire would be better.”

“Not at all,” said Hartnell. “This way we get to be seen to do the right thing while still keeping it pretty close to us. Surely you must know someone in the department, someone who’ll realize it’s in his best interests to keep you informed?”

“Detective Superintendent Chambers is in charge,” said Banks. “I’m sure he’ll find someone suitable to assign.”

Hartnell smiled. “Well, I’ll have a word with Ron this morning and we’ll see where it gets us, shall we?”

“Fine,” said Banks, thinking, She’ll kill me, she’ll kill me, even though it wasn’t his fault.

Je

Je

Behind her, Stefan switched off the overhead light and made Je

Je

Nobody home.

Mirrors. No matter where Je

“Where’s the camcorder?” she asked.

“Luke Selkirk’s-”

“No, I don’t mean the police camera, I mean his, Payne’s.”

“We haven’t found a camcorder. Why?”

“Look at the setup, Stefan. This is a man who likes to look at himself in action. It’d surprise me a great deal if he didn’t keep some record of his actions, wouldn’t it you?”

“Now you come to mention it, yes,” said Stefan.

“That sort of thing’s par for the course in sex killings. Some sort of memento. A trophy. And usually also some sort of visual aid to help him relive the experience before the next one.”

“We’ll know more when the team’s finished with the house.”

Je