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“What happened to your finger?” A
“I think I broke it,” Alex said. “Trapped it in the door.”
“You should see a doctor.”
“I’ve got an appointment for later this morning. I don’t think it’s so bad I need to go to A and E.”
“You never know.” A
“Yes, of course. Why shouldn’t it be?”
“Nothing. You just seem a bit jumpy this morning, that’s all.”
“Well, wouldn’t you be a bit jumpy if your partner had disappeared off the face of the earth?”
“He hasn’t disappeared off the face of the earth, Alex. There’s a simple explanation for all this. We’ll find him. Have you seen or heard anything of him?”
Alex looked away. “No.”
A
“No.”
“His caravan was burned down during the night.”
Alex’s eyes widened. “Burned down . . . you mean it caught fire?”
“Was burned down. As in, it was deliberately set on fire.”
“And Morgan?”
“He wasn’t home. There was nobody inside. The place was ransacked first. Any idea why?”
“Me? Why should I have any idea?”
A
“Of course I am. What on earth do you mean?”
“Michael and Morgan were up to something, weren’t they? Maybe they were mixed up with some seriously dangerous people. We don’t know yet. But perhaps you do?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know anything. Surely you don’t believe Michael could have had anything to do with this fire?”
A
“No,” said Alex, just a fraction too quickly. “Don’t be silly.”
A
“I told you, I trapped it in the door.”
“Oh, yes.”
“I don’t care if you don’t believe me. You can’t prove otherwise.”
“You’re right.” A
“I . . . I . . . there’s nothing you can do.”
“You’re wrong about that. There’s a lot I can do. I’m on your side, Alex, but I need something to go on. Anything. I’m in the dark here. What’s Michael mixed up in?”
“Nothing. I told you.”
A
“Blood type? Why do you—”
“Can you just answer the question, please, Alex.”
“Well . . . not offhand. I have it . . . I think. . . . ” She excused herself and went over to the sideboard, where she rummaged through a drawer and brought out a small ring-bound notebook. “This is where I keep all the important information like that, passport numbers and so on,” she said, flipping through the pages. “Here it is. A positive. Why do you want to know?”
A
“You mean you think he’s been bleeding? Someone’s hurt him? Is he badly hurt?”
“Alex, do you have anything here that I might be able to get a sample of Michael’s DNA from? A toothbrush, hairbrush, perhaps?”
“Yes. He didn’t take either of those things with him. But why? Why do you need his DNA?” She grasped the collar of her blouse and held it as if she were cold. “You have a body or something, don’t you? You think it’s Michael.”
A
“I don’t know what you mean.” Alex ran her hand through her hair. “Can’t you see I’m at my wits’ end here?”
“Just give me what I ask for,” A
When Alex came back from the bathroom carrying a toothbrush and a hairbrush, she looked even worse. “You might want to tell your doctor you’re run-down when you go and see him this morning,” A
“Not today, thank God.”
A
A
“Yes. Yes, he did. I took the details myself. But what—”
“Did you tell anyone?”
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know. Just in passing, you know, in general conversation. After all, Michael knows him. It might have come up.”
“I suppose I might have. But I don’t understand. Surely you’re not suggesting that Michael had anything to do with that tractor, are you? I told you, he was here all night Saturday.”
“Until Sunday morning?”
“Yes.”
“When he got a text, probably from Morgan Spencer, and said he had to go out and do a job and might call in on his father?”
“Yes.”
A
“You’ll stay in touch?”
“As soon as we find anything out, you’ll be the first to know.”
“WHERE’S THAT bo
“DI Cabbot’s on other business, and Harry couldn’t come today,” Banks answered. “He has an important Quidditch match.” He thought A
Lane snorted. “I suppose you’d better come in.” He glanced over Banks’s shoulder at the uniformed officers, who were already setting about their search of the outbuildings. “What about them?”
“They won’t be long, Mr. Lane. And they’ll be careful. Don’t worry.”
“I’m not worried. Let ’em look to their hearts’ content. I can’t imagine what they expect to find.”
Banks followed Lane into the living room. “We won’t take up much of your time,” he said, “only we’ve been around asking a few questions about your son, and the thing is, we still can’t seem to find Michael.”
“Oh.”
“You’re not worried about him?”
“Our Michael can take care of himself.”
“You said you last saw him about two weeks ago?”
“A little over. Two weeks last Friday. He was doing some work at a farm over the dale, and he dropped by for a cup of tea.”
“So you’re on speaking terms at the moment?”
Lane’s expression hardened. “We have our disagreements, but I’ve never shu
“Alex Preston said Michael told her that he might drop in on you last Sunday.”
“Well, he didn’t. And who might she be when she’s at home?”
“Alex is your son’s partner.”
“Partner.” Lane spat the word. “Scarlet woman, more like.”
“Have it your way. I’m not interested in your petty family squabbles. I want to find your son, and I want to find out what happened to your neighbor’s tractor.” Banks didn’t want to mention the blood just yet, the more serious reason for his questions, not until they knew a lot more about what had happened in the old hangar.