Evanly Bodies - By Rhys Bowen Page 0,70

that it was bloody heavy and full of books. But if he wants to take a look for himself, then let him."

"Let him see Rashid's room?"

"Certainly. Why not?"

Evan caught the rapid glances between the men. He wasn't sure what vibes he was picking up, but it did cross his mind that they might be quite happy to lure him into the house alone and then dispose of him. And he'd have only himself to blame. The basic rule of conducting searches in pairs was a sound one. His father hadn't obeyed it, and he had been gunned down. Evan decided not to push it this time, not only because it was taking an unnecessary risk, but because it might make things more difficult if Watkins needed to search the house later.

"It's all right. Forget it. The detective inspector in charge of the case will probably want to see for himself anyway. If you're so willing to let me inside, there can't be much to see."

Saleem didn't quite manage to hide the smirk. Evan felt like a fool as he walked away. He knew his face was red, and he was furious with himself. He shouldn't have let them get the better of him like that. Now they'd think that North Wales Police were soft.

Once across the street he stood and looked back at the house, noting the street number. They had been tense enough, that was for sure. Those glances that flickered like electricity between them as they answered his questions. Was it possible that Jamila was being held a prisoner there? He could hardly call Watkins or Glynis without admitting that he had been poking his nose into their case, and yet he couldn't walk away and do nothing. At the risk of being yelled at, he dialed Watkins's cell.

"Any news yet on Jamila?" he asked. "I had to question some faculty members at the university, and I encountered a group of young Muslim male students. I asked them some questions about Jamila, and they were definitely cagey."

"Well, they would be. They don't exactly have fond feelings about the police, most of them," Watkins said dryly.

"But then I noticed they went into a house on College Street, and I believe it's where Rashid Khan is now living. I know you've questioned him, but I just wondered if they could be holding her there. Have you searched the place yet?"

"Listen, boyo, you know how damn careful we have to be about barging into a racially charged situation like this."

"Not even if it's likely he's got his sister locked up there, or even lying there, dead?"

"You really think something bad's happened to her, do you?" Watkins asked.

"I'm trying not to, but I'm dreading the worst," Evan said. "Look, I know it's none of my business and it's your case."

"Your instincts aren't often wrong," Watkins said at last. "I suppose I can go and have another chat with Mr. Khan, and take a look at the place while I'm there. It's not as if anybody else has seen her. Now, could you leave me in peace for two minutes and go back to annoying DI Bragg?"

"I'll try." Evan managed a laugh.

Chapter 23

Frustration boiled over as Evan drove back to Colwyn Bay, wanting to drive fast, but hampered by afternoon traffic. Someone should be watching that house right now. Someone should be searching Rashid's room before he had a chance to hide anything.

He tried to make himself take deep breaths and calm down. It was not his case. He should be leaving things to Watkins and channeling his energy to catching a murderer. Yet again he would be returning to his boss empty-handed, with no new clues and no new insights. His mind went back over the incidents of the morning-the blood-spattered kitchen, Megan Owen's tear-stained face. How many more grief-stricken families would there be before this cold-blooded killer was caught? Because one thing was sure-the killer had to have nerves of steel. Shooting Rogers in a respectable street during the morning commute hour, shooting Alessi on a Friday night when people would still be coming out of the pubs and clubs, and then shooting Terry Owens in broad daylight on a housing estate. All highly risky procedures. The term "hit man" came to him again. These were all hits. The quick dispatching of someone who needed to be dispatched. Maybe their team should focus more on the North Wales underworld after all.

Why would a professor, a pizza parlor owner, and an unemployed