CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
They stared at the wall well into the evening. As they didn’t want to take down the pinned ANPR pictures, and because none of them fancied eating in shifts, Poe drove into Kendal to get food from the British Raj Indian and Tandoori takeaway. He’d just ordered butter chicken for Flynn, vegetable balti for Bradshaw and lamb madras for himself, when his phone alerted him to an incoming text. It was from Reid saying he’d been to Herdwick Croft. He wanted to know where he was. Poe typed a reply, telling him they were at the hotel and that he should walk across to meet them. He ordered him a lamb madras.
The hotel was kind enough to provide plates and cutlery and they had begun eating when Reid arrived. He said he was famished and wolfed his down, refusing to speak until he’d finished.
Reid wandered over to the wall. Despite the late hour and the heat of the day, he was as immaculately dressed as always. Poe, who’d removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves hours ago, managed a sly sniff of his own armpits. He’d need a shower soon.
‘You heard Hilary Swift’s in the clear?’
‘She’s involved, though,’ said Poe.
‘No doubt,’ Reid said. ‘You think she was working for someone? Or someone was working for her?’
Poe shrugged. ‘She didn’t recognise me. If she is working with the Immolation Man, then she’s his apprentice.’
Reid didn’t have an answer. There was no answer. Swift was involved; they just didn’t know how. Until she was caught, it would stay that way.
‘What did you get from the social worker?’ Reid asked, ready to move on. ‘I assume you think the boys are dead?’
‘That what you think?’ Poe replied.
‘Hard to see it any other way. I take it by visiting Children’s Services again, you’re looking at the families?’
‘We are, but so far there’s no one jumping up and down shouting “pick me”. You’ve never read about a bigger bunch of wankers in your life. They didn’t give a shit about the boys when they were alive, I don’t see them developing consciences now.’
‘So, we’re back to an unknown. Someone who hasn’t revealed their hand yet?’ He sat down. ‘Speaking of Hilary Swift, Gamble’s asked me to tell you all that there’s no evidence she’s managed to leave the country. No one using her name or fitting her description has passed through a UKBA controlled point. Gamble’s convinced – and I agree – that she’s holed up somewhere.’
Poe grunted.
Reid stood up. ‘Well, it looks like you’re all on a mission so I’m going to love you and leave you. I’ll call tomorrow if there’s an update.’
‘Call regardless, Kylian,’ Poe said. ‘We can tell you what we’ve found.’
He nodded and left.
Bradshaw walked to the board. Poe joined her. She said, ‘How about we use a third colour, Poe? Vehicles we’ve ruled out that we want to reconsider?’
Poe picked up a blue pen and said, ‘Let’s get started then.’
They worked through the night, taking turns to nap on a sofa the porter had brought in.
By nine in the morning they’d used four more colours and had stared at the photographs until it felt like their eyes were bleeding.
‘This isn’t working,’ Poe snapped. He turned to Bradshaw. ‘Tilly, can you please put that big brain of yours to use? Find me something I can recognise because at the minute I can’t see shit.’
Bradshaw flinched. He apologised. It certainly wasn’t her fault.
‘That’s OK, Poe,’ Bradshaw said. ‘You
and DI Stephanie Flynn go to breakfast. I’ll try an old university trick: if you can’t see the pattern, change your perspective.’
She didn’t explain what she meant or wait for permission, just walked up to the wall and started unpinning pictures. Poe had seen her like this before and knew there was no point talking to her; she wouldn’t be listening.
‘Come on, boss. I’ll buy you a bacon sandwich.’
When they returned, the pictures were back up but in four different blocks. There was a mixture of red crosses and green ticks. Poe looked at Bradshaw quizzically. The printer was clinking as it cooled. Bradshaw had printed off more photographs.
‘We added more vehicles, Tilly?’ Poe asked. It would be a backwards step if they had.