Tony Hill u Carol Jordan 08 - Cross and Burn

stumbling over the rough pasture in the dark, so she’d stuck to the margin of the field where the ground was relatively even. Flash didn’t seem to mind. She raced off in random directions before returning at regular intervals to make sure Carol hadn’t lost her way. ‘A bit like my brain,’ Carol said once she’d recognised the pattern.
    Even when she’d finally gone to bed, her mind was still racing, running over the same problems in the hope of finding a solution. In the end, she’d pummelled the pillows one last time and managed to drift off to the sound of the World Service. When the alarm roused her a few hours later, the same thoughts were still rattling round her head.
    There was no time to take the dog for a run; she had to meet Bronwen Scott at eight so they could go over things once more with Tony before Fielding arrived to interrogate him again. Scott had redoubled her suggestion that Carol avoid the interview itself. ‘I’m sure Fielding will know by then that you’re on the team, but I don’t want to feel she’s got something to prove because you’re in the room.’ It was a good point. It was also a way of protecting Paula.
    Carol might not have known much about dogs, but even before Stacey had weighed in, she had realised it wasn’t acceptable to leave the dog alone for long periods of time. They were supposed to keep each other company, after all. So she opened the rear door of the Land Rover and spread a couple of blankets on the floor. Flash jumped aboard as if it was routine. Carol added a litre-bottle of water and a plastic bowl to her dog-walking kit of leash, training treats and plastic bags, and they were ready to roll. One way or another, she’d find time to walk the dog.
    She beat Scott to Skenfrith Street by five minutes but she didn’t go inside, thinking it more sensible to wait at the car-park entrance. Scott was perfectly groomed as ever, immaculate in a fitted charcoal-grey suit over a sharply tailored blue-and-white pinstriped shirt. The narrow skirt, coupled with teetering heels, showed off her legs to distracting advantage. Carol felt like a frump in her best black trouser suit and flatties, both from the Hobbs’ sale a couple of years ago. This time, they were shown to an interview room away from the custody suite, fitted with recording equipment and a long narrow wall mirror. It had the familiar grey walls and the mingled smell of stale bodies and cleaning chemicals. Without thinking, Carol headed straight for the chairs that weren’t bolted to the floor. Scott laughed. ‘Old habits die hard, Carol. You’re on the wrong side of the table.’ As Carol made to stand up, Scott waved her back down. ‘It’s OK, it’s only us here. Stay where you are for the time being.’
    Scott sat down and put on a pair of rectangular glasses with thin black frames. They made her look like a sexily strict headmistress. She opened a file and studied the contents page by page. When Tony was shown in a few minutes later, she closed the file and stood up. As he approached the table, she moved towards him and put a hand on his arm. ‘How was your night?’
    He looked across at Carol, who had not moved. ‘It passed,’ he said, moving past Scott to sit down opposite Carol. ‘I don’t know how long we’ve got here, but there are a few things I need to say. I think he’s local. Given that men tend to go for women younger than them and he chose Bev as a possible surrogate, I’d say he’s at least thirty-five. One thing that bothered me was that the women don’t seem to have tried to escape or draw attention to themselves after he loads them in the car. I’d have thought if there had been any reports of pedestrians hearing someone kicking or shouting in the boot of a car Paula would have said something about it. So I wondered if what he’s got in that metal case is a portable anaesthetic kit. Like paramedics carry. That would explain both why he’s carrying the case and the women’s apparent passivity. It’s because they’re unconscious. So maybe it’s worth checking if any of the local hospitals have lost one?’
    ‘Given the professions of the victims, he might even be a paramedic,’ Carol said.
    Tony ran a hand through his hair. ‘I don’t think so. I’d put him in a white-collar job. But you could be right,’ he added hastily.
    Trying to suck up. Pathetic. Carol made a note. One for Paula to suggest to Fielding, maybe. To make it look like she was on her