Hard Evidence (10 page)

'Do you know what I hate about people?' Delaney
asked Sally as he shifted into a lower gear and
blasted his horn as he overtook an elderly woman
who in his opinion shouldn't be allowed to be in
charge of a bicycle, let alone a Mercedes with God
knows how many horsepower under the bonnet.
Sally wasn't happy with the way he was treating
her car, but he was the boss so she kept her own
counsel.

'No, sir?'

'Everything.' Delaney stepped on the accelerator.
'Because people lie, Sally. They do bad
things to each other and they look you in the face
and they lie about it.'

'Maybe it's your upbringing, sir.'

'Meaning?'

'All that Catholicism, confessions and all that.'

'I wasn't brought up among priests and nuns,
Sally.'

'You weren't?'

'I was brought up by wolves.'

He flashed a humourless grin at her as he
brought the car to a screeching halt outside
Morgan's workshop.

'Let's go and talk to the liar. See if he's ready to
make his confession.'

Inside his workshop, Morgan watched as
Delaney and Sally approached. He wiped the back
of his greasy hand across his mouth and a flicker
of something shifted in his eyes.

'Have you found her?'

Delaney shook his head, and the hope in
Morgan's eyes died.

'Mr Morgan. Is there something you forgot to
tell us?'

'No.' He looked puzzled as Delaney leaned
angrily in.

'You told us earlier that Jenny didn't have any
other relatives?'

'That's right, just Jake and me.'

Delaney leaned in even closer and held a photo
in front of Morgan's face.

'So who's this then, the sugar plum fucking
fairy?'

Morgan blinked, confused, and took the photo
off him, his face filling with blood as he looked at
it, his scar pulsing and his eyes darting like cold
water on hot coals.

'Do you know this woman?'

'No.'

Delaney turned to Sally. 'Liars, you see, Sally.
Every damn fucking one of them.'

Sally looked at Morgan; you didn't need a detector
to tell he was lying. 'She's your sister, isn't she?'

Morgan shook his head, fear in his eyes.

'Why the hell didn't you tell us you had a
sister?'

Morgan backed away from Delaney. 'Where did
you get this? Why are you asking about her?'

'You admit you do have a sister then?'

'Not any more! I haven't seen her in fourteen
years.'

Sally stepped forward. 'What happened between
you?'

Morgan pulled his shirt open to reveal the
extent of his scarring, across his chest, up his
shoulder, up to his pain-filled eyes and forehead.
'This is what happened. She did this to me with a
steam hose. She's not right in the head.'

'What are you saying?'

Morgan looked at her for a moment. 'Where did
you get this photo? What's it got to do with my
Jenny?'

Delaney held up another photo of the pair of
them together. 'We think she's with her.'

'She can't be.' His eyes were wild now.

'We think she made contact over the internet.'

Morgan grabbed Sally by the arm. 'You've got
to find her.'

Delaney would have stepped in but Sally held
her hand up. 'Try and stay calm, Mr Morgan. We
know Jenny's all right now. She's safe. She's with
a relative.'

'What are you talking about . . . safe? She's not
safe. You have to find her.'

Delaney barely kept his temper in check. 'Then
maybe it's about time you started telling us the
truth.'

'I don't know any more. I told you, I haven't
seen her in fourteen years.'

Delaney shared a look with Sally. The trouble
was, he believed Morgan. He jerked his head for
them to go outside, and Sally followed him out as
he put a fag in his mouth and fumbled angrily for
his matches.

Outside in the yard, Delaney blew a short burst of
smoke as he watched Jake Morgan operate a jack
to lift a minivan off the ground. His back and
shoulders were burned by the glaring heat of the
sun but if he felt any discomfort he wasn't showing
it. His muscles were bunched and straining
and Delaney sensed that he could probably have
lifted the van up with his bare hands.

Sally looked back at Delaney. 'Jenny's with a
relative. I guess that changes everything.'

Delaney nodded thoughtfully. 'Maybe.'

'We can stand down the media circus.'

'This is a relative she hasn't ever met before,
who hasn't been involved with her family for
fourteen years if Morgan is telling the truth.'

'And you think he is?'

'Yeah. I do. He hasn't got the brains to lie to
us.'

'He lied about his sister.'

'Not really. As far as he was concerned, she
doesn't exist any more.'

'Can't say I blame him, seeing what she did to
him.'

'If she is as unstable as he claims she is, then it's
just as urgent we find Jenny quickly. She's still
been abducted, that's what we need to focus on.'

'She wasn't abducted. She went voluntarily.'

'She's twelve years old, Sally. She was taken
without her father's consent; he didn't even know
she was missing till the next day.'

'Exactly. Maybe she's better off with her aunt.'

Sally looked across at Delaney, biting her lips
but the words were out.

'Sorry.'

'Don't apologise. My daughter's definitely
better off with
her
aunt.'

Delaney pulled out his mobile and punched in a
quick sequence of numbers, listening impatiently
as the phone rang. 'Bonner, where have you been?'

'Doing what I was told. Looking into Howard
Morgan's sister, Candy Morgan.'

'You've found her?'

'No. Just found out about her.'

'And . . . ?'

'And it's not good news.'

'Go on.'

'She's been in the system.'

'Prison?'

'Off and on. She's twenty-eight now and has
spent a lot of her life behind bars of one kind or
another.'

'Go on.'

'She turned a steam hose on her older brother
for a joke when she was fourteen years old.'

'Some joke. We've seen what it did to him.'

'She's not a nice person.'

'What else?'

'You name it. She was taken into care after
putting her brother in hospital. Three months later
she burned the house down.'

'She's got a thing with heat, obviously.'

'And knives. We've got paper on her for most
things you can think of. Theft. Aggravated assault,
mainly on women. Drug-dealing. Prostitution. She
just got out of Holloway five days ago after
serving eight years.'

'Eight years! What did she do, murder someone?'

'Seems like some girl came down from Birmingham
and started working her patch. She cut
one of her ears off and fed it to her.'

Delaney flicked another cigarette into his mouth
and, crooking his phone on his shoulder, managed
to flare a match and light it. 'Nice.'

'This woman is very far from nice. She served her
full term because she took a razor blade set in a
toothbrush and sliced a female guard's cheek open.'

'You think she's got issues?'

Bonner laughed drily. 'Yeah. Like Myra
Hindley had issues.'

'I meant mental health issues.'

'She was never hospitalised, if that's what you
mean. But this woman obviously gets off on
violence. Particularly against other women. Not
only that, but she attempted suicide twice whilst in
custody. This is far from a healthy bunny here. I'd
say we'd best find her quickly, because she ain't
where she's supposed to be. Picked up, moved out,
no forwarding address.'

Delaney went to hang up but a thought
occurred. 'Any word on Billy Martin or Jackie
Malone's boy?'

'Nothing yet, boss. This case has taken priority.'

'I want you to keep going on Jackie Malone.
And you report anything you find directly back to
me. We clear on that?'

'You got it.'

'Just to me.' Delaney clicked his phone shut
and ground out his cigarette with a sharp twist of
his ankle. He looked over to where Jake was lifting
off the nearside front wheel of the van, complete
with tyre. He tossed it to one side as though it
weighed as much as an empty carton of milk.

Sally saw the concern in Delaney's face. 'Not
good news from Sergeant Bonner, then?'

'Seems like Morgan was right about not seeing
his sister for fourteen years. And he was right
about something else too: she's a very nasty piece
of work by all accounts.'

'Maybe some girls aren't better off with their
aunts.'

Delaney gave her a flat look. 'Time will tell.
Always does.' He walked across to where Jake
was working. 'Jake.'

The mechanic stood up, squinting in the bright
sunlight and shielding his eyes with his hand.

'Yes, sir.'

'You don't have to call me sir.'

'I haven't done anything wrong.' His eyes
flicked nervously.

Sally held her hand up reassuringly. 'Nobody is
saying you have.'

'Have you found her then?'

'Not yet. Apparently she's with your younger
sister.'

Jake blinked. On a face not normally articulate
with comprehension, he looked even more
confused.

'I don't understand.'

'Candy.'

Jake backed away. 'She's not coming here. I
don't want her here.'

Sally held her hands out. 'We don't know where
she is. We need to speak to her.'

'I don't want her coming here. She hurts
people.'

'Have you spoken to her recently?'

Jake shook his head, terrified.

'Did she hurt you in the past?'

'She set light to Susie.'

'Who's Susie?'

'She was our dog. She set light to her tail and
then she burned my brother with the steam hose.
She likes to break things. Hurt people.'

'Have you any idea where she might be?'

'I haven't seen her since she burned Howard
with the steam.'

'You haven't spoken to her on the telephone?'

'I don't use the telephone.'

'It's important if you know anything to tell us.'

Jake nodded, his worried eyes darting to left and
right. 'I do know something.'

'What's that, Jake?' Delaney gave him a supportive
smile.

'I know she's bad, I know she likes to hear
people screaming. You've got to save Jenny.'

Delaney nodded. 'We're going to do the best we
can.'

Jake grabbed his arm and Delaney was all too
aware of the power in his grip. 'Don't let her hurt
her.'

Delaney nodded again and Jake released his
hold. Delaney gestured to Sally, and as they
walked back towards the car, he had to make a
conscious effort not to rub his arm.

'You think she's going to hurt the girl?' asked
Sally as they moved out of earshot.

Delaney opened the car door without
answering.

'What are we going to do, sir?'

Delaney could hear the frustration and concern
in her voice, and understood it all too well. 'We're
going to go to prison.'

'Sir?'

'Holloway. The university of hurting people.
Find out why she got a distinction.'

Holloway prison lies north of King's Cross. If you
were a hooker working the area round the station,
you could probably walk there. If the crack cocaine
hadn't rendered you unfit for the journey, of course.
The only way a crack whore could make that
journey, Delaney thought as he crunched through
the gears, was in the back of a police wagon. Knickknack,
paddy whack, give a dog a bone.

Sally was chatting away next to him but
Delaney was only partly paying attention. He had
made the mistake of asking her what she knew
about Holloway, unaware that as part of her
degree in criminology she had written a thesis on
the role of the prison as a force for the social
control of women, particularly as it had notably
been used to house the suffragettes. Now she was
practically repeating it verbatim.

Sally had got up to about 1903, talking about
when the prison was solely designated for the
housing of female offenders, when Delaney thankfully
pulled up to the imposing-looking modern
building and parked the car.

As they got out once more into the glaring heat
of the sun, Delaney looked up at the blank-faced
walls. It was a far cry from the gothic beauty of
the original building. This could have been
anywhere, Los Angeles, Sydney, Bradford. But
behind the modern facade there still lingered a
sense of its past. It wasn't hard to imagine ghosts
walking at night, and the screams sounding in the
darkness, he was sure, would be real enough.

Sally looked down at the plaque that had been
laid in the original Holloway prison in 1852. It
read: 'May God preserve the city of London and
make this place a terror to evil doers.' Delaney
followed her gaze. 'Sometimes the terror in here is
better than what waits for them outside.'

The doors were opened and closed behind them.
Nothing much had changed with that over the
years. The doors might not be thick studded oak
any more, and there might not have been
electronic seals and cameras following their
movements from every angle in years gone by, but
the principle was the same. Once you were inside
the prison you only got out when those inside said
so. If it was an hour later, or sixteen years later,
once the doors had closed behind you, you had no
control over the matter.

Delaney and Sally waited at the reception area
until a uniformed guard came to take them to the
governor's office. He had kept them waiting for
over fifteen minutes but Delaney didn't let it anger
him. He knew the governor's job was all about
keeping control. Exerting authority and keeping
control. They may well have worked in associated
jobs, but once that first gate had closed behind
them they were in the governor's world now, and
if he wanted to make a point then Delaney wasn't
bothered. Besides, it was far, far, cooler inside the
prison than in the blistering heat outside.