Behind Dead Eyes (DC Ian Bradshaw #2) - Howard Linskey Page 0,145

place. Bradshaw dropped Callie back onto her feet just as the door opened.

‘What is it now, Mr Anderton?’ asked Bradshaw irritably. Then he realised Callie had dropped the envelope on the bed when she replaced the tile and it was still sitting there. He prayed Dean wouldn’t notice.

‘What are you doing in here?’ demanded Dean. ‘You can’t just walk into another girl’s room like this.’

‘I can if I have reason to believe a crime has been committed,’ Bradshaw told him. ‘Don’t think for one moment that Callie is the only girl involved in this.’

‘Fuck off,’ sneered Callie. ‘I told you I ain’t done nothing.’

‘Callie,’ warned Dean.

‘Right that’s it,’ Bradshaw said, as if his patience had finally deserted him. ‘Callie McQuire, I am arresting you on suspicion of theft.’

‘What?’ she cried in protest, playing her part. ‘You can’t do that!’

‘No,’ said Dean, ‘you can’t.’ He seemed very sure of that all of a sudden, which troubled Bradshaw.

‘And why not?’ the detective demanded.

‘Because I phoned Northumbria Police and they have no record of a detective Ian Bradshaw.’ He eyed Bradshaw contemptuously.

‘Well they wouldn’t, Mr Anderton. I’m with Durham Constabulary. Did I not make that clear to you? Do you wish to see my ID again?’ He took out his warrant card and pressed it close to Dean’s face. ‘Now is that all, or perhaps you’d like to come along as well to assist me with my enquiries?’

‘No,’ said Dean in a very small voice.

‘Okay then,’ he turned back to the girl, ‘let’s get this over with, Callie.’

‘This is a fucking joke!’ shouted Callie. ‘You can’t do this. You’ve no right!’

‘I have every right, now move it!’ He guided them both towards the door, ensuring Dean went through it first and, as he did so, he used Callie’s exit to scoop up the photograph and tuck it under his jacket before leaving, then he marched her off down the corridor.

As they left the building, Bradshaw made a point of holding on to her arm and steering her towards the back seat of his car. He opened the door then pressed down on her shoulder, so it looked as if she was being coerced into the vehicle. He climbed into the front seat, then started the engine. Bradshaw glanced back at the care home and saw that Dean, as he expected, was watching from a window.

‘Oscar winner or what?’ asked Carrie exuberantly.

‘Sorry?’

‘We totally fooled Freak Boy. Good, wasn’t I?’

‘Exceptional,’ he told her as he drove away.

He bought Callie a can of Coke and some crisps then took her to the interview room. He didn’t tell any of his colleagues why she was there. He let her eat the crisps while they waited for Helen and Tom to arrive. Once she was settled, he picked up the envelope and withdrew the photograph and looked at it.

When Callie finally spoke, he almost started, for he had forgotten she was in the room with him by then. ‘Told you,’ she said matter-of-factly.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you did,’ and he slid the photo back into the envelope. ‘Do you have any other photographs?’ asked Bradshaw, not that he needed further proof.

Callie rummaged eagerly in her bag and handed him a yellow envelope with a Kodak logo on it. She must have misunderstood him. When he opened the envelope, all that was revealed was a handful of snaps featuring Callie goofing around in town; sometimes on her own, but on occasions with another girl. Bradshaw didn’t bother to tell her he meant other photos of the Councillor. She was watching him intently so he skimmed through them dutifully, taking the time to look at each one. If you didn’t know anything about Callie’s life or what she had been through you might have imagined she was a normal fifteen-year-old girl hanging out with ordinary friends just like thousands of others her age, but Bradshaw knew she had already been abused by countless men. It was heartbreaking.

‘This your friend?’ he asked as he came upon a photograph of the two girls sitting on a wall together and laughing.

‘That’s me and Di.’

A thought struck him then. ‘When did Diane disappear?’

‘She didn’t disappear,’ and he regretted using the word, ‘I get cards from her.’

‘Cards?’ He recalled Tom mentioning something about this.

‘Postcards,’ she said, ‘from London.’

‘Okay,’ he said, ‘so when did you last see her?’

‘The day before she left.’

‘Did she tell you she was going to leave?’

‘She told me loads of times she was going to London.’ Callie was evasive. ‘I’m going too, when