Buried (DC Jack Warr #1) - Lynda La Plante Page 0,24

in that split second, Jack went from being pleased with himself to being deeply disappointed. Ridley could do that with a single look ‒ like a parent who is used to being let down.

‘Right,’ he said, ‘tomorrow I want you in the Isle of Wight . . .’ He paused. ‘Seeing as Freeman’s the only lead you’ve got.’

Jack winced, sat down and the floor was handed to Anik.

‘Did you know, sir, that we don’t actually know where around five hundred of our community-based sex offenders are?’ Anik sounded like he was about to give a lecture on police shortcomings. ‘They’re meant to stay at the halfway houses we put them in and . . . well, they don’t.’

‘We’ll tackle that disgraceful statistic another day, Anik. For now, let’s hear what we do know rather than what we don’t.’

‘Yes, sir. I’m working through a list of forty-five sex offenders from the Aylesbury area and—’

‘What do you mean by “I’m working through”?’ Ridley asked. Anik clearly didn’t understand the question. ‘Get on to the Vulnerable Persons’ Unit and ask for a couple of PCs to do the donkey work for you. You take what they report and collate it into a document that we can use.’

Anik grinned from ear to ear at the thought of ‘commanding’ a team of PCs.

‘I’ll do that, sir. Thank you. And I found an arrest report for a Daniel Green. He’s a vagrant who’s been picked up a couple of times for squatting in Rose Cottage. He used to nick tea lights from the village church, food from the Co-op and then break into the cottage for a kip. Last time he was picked up, he had a load of printed kiddie porn images from the internet, so he could be the “pervert” we’re looking for. He did two and a half months for that. The local bobbies know him by sight ‒ they’re keeping their eyes open. If they don’t find him, he could be “Shirley”.’

‘ “Sheila”,’ Jack corrected, childishly hoping to make Anik look as stupid as he felt.

Anik took no notice and added Daniel Green’s mugshot to the evidence board. Laura then picked up the reins.

‘The total amount of cash being transported in the train back in ’95 has been confirmed as £36.7 million; but a number of sacks were left behind during the robbery. It was all in used, untraceable notes. So we’ve stopped trying to find any serial numbers, seeing as they won’t help us link any of the burnt cash to the robbery anyway. But it’s got to be from that, hasn’t it? I mean, if it was legitimate, who wouldn’t at least try to change one point eight million in old money at a bank? No way you’d just burn it . . .’

Jack concluded Laura’s thought: ‘Unless you had another twenty-five million stashed away in legal tender somewhere else.’

‘Exactly.’ Jack and Laura were now talking as one person. ‘One point eight million becomes pocket money when you look at the bigger picture. This haul has to be from the train robbery.’

Ridley kept the brainstorming going. ‘The other thing we now know is that the accelerant used was petrol. And it has to have been siphoned from a vehicle driven there, as there were no vehicles at the cottage. Laura – track down all the CCTV you can. There won’t be much, but I want you to identify all cars using that top road. Most cars will belong to residents from the estate, but that doesn’t automatically rule them out. Check them all, please.’ Laura nodded her understanding. ‘The rest of you, use the pathology report that Jack’s about to bring you, to find “Sheila” in missing persons. Any questions? Jack . . . with me.’

And, with that, Ridley was gone.

*

As Ridley and Jack walked the corridor towards Foxy’s lab, Jack waited for the bollocking. And here it came.

‘How come you only managed to trace three dead women, and the one living woman who was piss-easy to find because her probation officer’s name was in the files sent across by DI Prescott?’ This was rhetorical, so Ridley left no space for Jack to answer. ‘New DCs like Anik should look up to you, Jack, but he doesn’t. You’re just a bloke he works with.’

‘I’ll talk to Maggie about the sergeant’s post—’

‘Don’t bother unless you really want it,’ Ridley ended as he pushed his way through the heavy rubber doors into Will’s stark, white, sterile labs beyond.

Foxy was oblivious to the tension between Ridley and Jack. In his domain he