Best of British Crime 3 E-Book Bundle. Paul Finch

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СКАЧАТЬ you wasted your time.’

      ‘Why? Is the investigation on, or isn’t it?’ She ran to catch up, snatching him by the arm. ‘I’m talking to you!’

      Heck spun around. ‘Hey! Now you’ve stalked me all the way from London so you can threaten me with a knife. You carry on like this … ex-army or not, I’ll throw your arse in jail.’

      Her dark cheeks had coloured, her eyes shone. She wasn’t crying now, he noticed. And she didn’t release him.

      ‘You’re not just going to walk away from me!’ she hissed. ‘Look, my sister’s been missing thirty months and now it’s not a case that you can’t tell me anything … now it’s a case that you won’t? Are you having a laugh?’

      Heck yanked his arm free. ‘I’m not answerable to you. I’m sorry about what’s happened to your family, but I’m not going to divulge sensitive information to you or anyone else. To start with, I don’t have the first clue who you really are. For all I know, you could be the bloody kidnapper.’

      ‘You bastard!’ she shouted, as he walked on.

      ‘If you’ve got a complaint, take it to New Scotland Yard.’

      ‘If you’re not going to find her, I am …’

      He reached his Fiat and opened it. ‘I’d be more concerned about how you’re going to get home, if I were you. That van looks like a write-off.’

      ‘What … you think I can’t make it out of here on foot? I used to deploy on ten-day patrols, for Christ’s sake … through the most godforsaken mountains you’ve ever seen.’

      ‘Good practice for getting back to Yorkshire, then.’ He climbed in, closed the door and switched the engine on.

      She limped up to his open window. ‘I suppose you’d rather spend your shift dragging out paperwork? Or maybe nicking hard-working citizens for being impolite to their drug addict neighbours?’ Heck put the car in gear. ‘You just get on with all that,’ she added. ‘I’ll go look for Genene. I’ll start with this character Ballamara.’

      Heck glanced round at her.

      She smiled as she retreated. ‘If I can find you, I can surely find him.’

      ‘Miss Wraxford …?’

      Despite having hurt her leg, she moved quickly away, stopping first at the wrecked van and pulling a heavy Bergen backpack out of it.

      ‘Hey, Miss Wraxford!’

      She ignored him, hoisting the pack onto her back and starting to walk.

      He spun the car around after her, but she deliberately veered off the lot onto broken ground, crossing it diagonally towards the unmade track that had brought them here. It was several minutes later before he could pull up alongside her again.

      ‘You are not to go looking for Bobby Ballamara!’ he said through his window. ‘You understand me?’

      ‘What is he?’ she scoffed. ‘A gangster? You think that scares me? You think anyone in London scares me? I come from Leeds.’

      ‘Just forget Bobby Ballamara. He’s nothing to do with this case.’

      ‘Let’s see what he’s got to say about it …’

      ‘You’ll be putting yourself in extreme danger …’

      She laughed loudly. ‘The time for playing it safe is over! We’ve been waiting three years to hear from you lot. There hasn’t been a damn peep, so now my family has trusted me to get some answers. With or without your help.’

      Before he could reply, she cut back across the spoil land, heading towards the main road. She was still limping, but covered the ground quickly, ‘yomping’ army style. By the time he reached the main road, she was on its verge, thumbing for a lift.

      ‘You’re more trouble than you’re bloody worth!’ he shouted, pulling up.

      ‘Yeah?’ She shifted away from him. ‘Disappointingly, you’ve been no trouble at all.’

      He jumped from the car. ‘Do I have to arrest you for taking that transit van without its owner’s consent?’

      She looked surprised. ‘I hired it.’

      ‘And now you’ve dumped it.’

      ‘I’ll phone them and tell them where it is.’

      ‘I can still take you in.’

      ‘Go on then.’ She folded her arms and waited. ‘I won’t resist. Only you didn’t lock me up when I threatened to knife you … what’s changed this time?’

      Heck couldn’t at first respond. In truth, there wasn’t an answer he could give her.

      ‘Get in the car,’ he finally said.

      ‘Aren’t you supposed to be reading me my rights?’

      ‘You’re not under arrest. Just get in the car.’

      Warily, she did as he asked, sliding into the front passenger seat.

      Heck sighed as he walked around to the driver’s door. He wasn’t quite sure why he was doing this. But there was more truth in what the girl had said than even she might realise. Besides, he wasn’t much of a tough guy when it came to human suffering. Too many cops turned a blind eye to it – either as a defensive mechanism to stop it upsetting them, or because they were heartless shithouses who genuinely didn’t care.

      ‘What’s going on?’ she asked, as he climbed in.

      ‘First, I want proof that you’re who you say you are.’

      She felt under her sweat top and produced a driving licence. From the ID and photograph, she was indeed Lauren Wraxford.

      ‘You’ve got bottle, Lauren, I’ll give you that,’ he said, as he switched the engine on and pulled away from the kerb. ‘You’ve also got a grievance. I reckon the very least I can do is buy you a cup of coffee.’

       Chapter 14

      Heck pulled off the A580 on the outskirts of Manchester, into a bustling lorry park, where he halted, climbed out and headed on foot to a scruffy café sandwiched between a mountain of old tyres and a dilapidated shed with a sign over its lintel reading ‘TOILET’. Lauren got out as well, and leaned against the bonnet of the car as she watched him.

      In his jeans, sweater and leather jacket, her chaperon didn’t look much like a cop, though she supposed he was a little more presentable now than he had been the previous night, when he’d been drunk and dishevelled and acting like a smartarse in that crappy London pub. Mind you, she supposed she’d looked a bit of a sight herself, dolled up like a teenage hooker.

      She glanced over her СКАЧАТЬ