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Chapter 29

‘Stayright there!’ Poe ordered. ‘Don’t touch anything and don’t put your hands in your pockets.’

Brian Price stood still.

‘How the hell did you get in here?’ Flynn said.

‘Through the staff door, same as always,’ he said. He had a Brummie accent. ‘I’m on shift soon. Heard you were looking for me.’

‘Chief Superintendent Mathers!’ Poe yelled. ‘A moment, please!’

It took a few seconds for Mathers to make her way to the cyber and digital crime unit’s IT suite.

‘What’s up?’ she said. ‘I’m in the middle of the search for … Is that …?’

‘It is,’ Poe said. ‘Can you cuff him, please? I seem to have left mine at home.’

Two minutes into the interview and Poe knew they had the wrong man. Price’s accent was wrong for a start. The man on the hotline recording had sounded flat and monotonous, eminently forgettable. Price’s accent was pure Birmingham. When he said his name for the tape, ‘Price’ rhymed with ‘choice’. His demeanour was wrong, too. Poe had interviewed more serial killers than was decent and, although he knew they evolved and mutated, the two things they all had in common were a compulsion to kill and pride in what they had done.

Price was polite, attentive and nervous. He’d clearly done something wrong, but Poe didn’t think he’d killed anyone.

‘Where have you been, Detective Constable Price?’ Poe asked.

‘Why?’

‘You know how this goes. I ask the questions, youanswerthe questions, we all go home and eat sausages dipped in mustard.’

‘I’ve been to see my daughter.’

‘She lives in Wigan, right?’

Price furrowed his brow. ‘How do you know that?’

Poe didn’t respond.

‘Why do you know where my daughter lives, Sergeant Poe?’

‘We checked with her, Detective Constable Price. She hasn’t seen you. And, now she’s had police turning up at her home, she’s worried. The sooner you answer, the sooner you can call her. Let her know you’re OK.’

‘She wasn’t in.’

‘That might account for some of the time you’ve been missing, but it doesn’t account for all of it. So, I’ll ask again – where have you been?’

‘Unless you tell me what’s happened, I’m not saying another word until my federation rep gets here.’

Poe sighed. Recognised it was a cop on the other side of the table. Decided he’d earned a bit of respect. ‘Mr Cummings is dead,’ he said.

‘I know. But I wasn’t on shift.’

Irrelevant, Poe thought. The hot water tap could have been tampered with at any time.

‘Do you know a man called Kane Hunt? Apparently he’s been on TV.’

Price stiffened. His eyes narrowed and his lips pursed.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ Poe said.

‘I know of him. I don’tknowhim.’


Tags: M.W. Craven Thriller