counter on one of those forms they print in the small ads section. Paid for in cash. There’s nothing illegal about printing a time and day, so no one ever queried it. I’ve got someone talking to all the people who work the desk to see if they recall what the advertiser looks like, but I don’t hold out high hopes.’
Longley whistled gently between his teeth.
‘There must be something we can throw at them all, once we get hold of them.’
‘I’m sure there is if we do get hold of them. They can hardly claim it’s in private, however far from the road they were. But the more urgent thing is to find Karen Bastable. Or her body.’ Thackeray’s face was grim. On the evidence of what Karen’s friend had told them he had little hope of finding Karen alive. The dogging rendezvous was a perfect place for a sexual predator and he had no doubt that at least one had been present the night she had foolishly decided to drive to the Bently Forest alone.
‘I don’t think we’ve any choice, have we?’ Longley said grudgingly. ‘Get a major search organised. I’ll talk to county about the overtime budget. If it turns out to be a major investigation, we’ll be all right. If we end up having searched half the Pennines while the lass is holed up somewhere with a boyfriend, we’ll have egg all over our faces. But I don’t see that we’ve got any choice, so you’d best get on with it.’
‘I’ll get the troops organised. Will you talk to uniform?’
‘Oh aye, they’re going to love this,’ Longley said. ‘There’ll not be enough overtime money in the kitty to make up for being stuck up there.’ He glanced out of the window to where they could see dark clouds tumbling down towards the town from the high Pennines. ‘Especially in the bloody rain.’
Thackeray went back to his own office and set the wheels in motion for a search of the whole forested area around where Karen Bastable’s car had been found. Then he went to the interview room where Sergeant Kevin Mower and PC Nasreem Mirza were still talking to Charlene Brough. The three of them looked at him inquiringly, the officers impassive, their witness pale and red-eyed, clutching her packet of cigarettes as if her life depended on it.
‘I’ll sit in now, Nasreem,’ Thackeray said and the PC nodded and reluctantly gave the senior officer her chair. Thackeray introduced himself.
‘Do you think Karen is still alive?’ he asked. Charlene shook her head.
‘I don’t know, do I? Can I have a fag? These bastards won’t let me smoke.’
‘You can go outside for a cigarette break shortly,’ Thackeray said, knowing as a smoker himself he was likely to have been more sympathetic than his colleagues. ‘Just tell me what you think might have happened to your friend.’
Charlene’s face crumpled.
‘I don’t know, do I?’ she said again. ‘It were just a bit o’fun. She were really up for it. She were right bored wi’her husband. Have you seen him? If you see him, you’ll know what I mean.’
‘Could she have made a more serious commitment, like you did? Gone home with someone? Did she give you any indication she wanted to go out that night to see someone in particular? Or was it just…’ Thackeray hesitated, lost for words, unable to hide his distaste. ‘Was it just random?’ he asked after a pause.
Charlene shook her head.
‘She never said owt about anyone special,’ she whispered. ‘It were just a bit o’fun, no strings, no names, just a quick shag or two, or three sometimes, a quick drink – people brought their bottles of booze – and off home.’
Thackeray caught Nasreem Mirza’s eye and saw the same incomprehension there he knew must be in his own. The young PC was still hovering by the door.
‘You can go now, Nasreem,’ Thackeray said, and she slipped out looking grateful. The DCI turned back to Charlene Brough, feeling weary.
‘You say that the cars in the circle had their headlights on,’ he said. ‘So whatever was
Longley whistled gently between his teeth.
‘There must be something we can throw at them all, once we get hold of them.’
‘I’m sure there is if we do get hold of them. They can hardly claim it’s in private, however far from the road they were. But the more urgent thing is to find Karen Bastable. Or her body.’ Thackeray’s face was grim. On the evidence of what Karen’s friend had told them he had little hope of finding Karen alive. The dogging rendezvous was a perfect place for a sexual predator and he had no doubt that at least one had been present the night she had foolishly decided to drive to the Bently Forest alone.
‘I don’t think we’ve any choice, have we?’ Longley said grudgingly. ‘Get a major search organised. I’ll talk to county about the overtime budget. If it turns out to be a major investigation, we’ll be all right. If we end up having searched half the Pennines while the lass is holed up somewhere with a boyfriend, we’ll have egg all over our faces. But I don’t see that we’ve got any choice, so you’d best get on with it.’
‘I’ll get the troops organised. Will you talk to uniform?’
‘Oh aye, they’re going to love this,’ Longley said. ‘There’ll not be enough overtime money in the kitty to make up for being stuck up there.’ He glanced out of the window to where they could see dark clouds tumbling down towards the town from the high Pennines. ‘Especially in the bloody rain.’
Thackeray went back to his own office and set the wheels in motion for a search of the whole forested area around where Karen Bastable’s car had been found. Then he went to the interview room where Sergeant Kevin Mower and PC Nasreem Mirza were still talking to Charlene Brough. The three of them looked at him inquiringly, the officers impassive, their witness pale and red-eyed, clutching her packet of cigarettes as if her life depended on it.
‘I’ll sit in now, Nasreem,’ Thackeray said and the PC nodded and reluctantly gave the senior officer her chair. Thackeray introduced himself.
‘Do you think Karen is still alive?’ he asked. Charlene shook her head.
‘I don’t know, do I? Can I have a fag? These bastards won’t let me smoke.’
‘You can go outside for a cigarette break shortly,’ Thackeray said, knowing as a smoker himself he was likely to have been more sympathetic than his colleagues. ‘Just tell me what you think might have happened to your friend.’
Charlene’s face crumpled.
‘I don’t know, do I?’ she said again. ‘It were just a bit o’fun. She were really up for it. She were right bored wi’her husband. Have you seen him? If you see him, you’ll know what I mean.’
‘Could she have made a more serious commitment, like you did? Gone home with someone? Did she give you any indication she wanted to go out that night to see someone in particular? Or was it just…’ Thackeray hesitated, lost for words, unable to hide his distaste. ‘Was it just random?’ he asked after a pause.
Charlene shook her head.
‘She never said owt about anyone special,’ she whispered. ‘It were just a bit o’fun, no strings, no names, just a quick shag or two, or three sometimes, a quick drink – people brought their bottles of booze – and off home.’
Thackeray caught Nasreem Mirza’s eye and saw the same incomprehension there he knew must be in his own. The young PC was still hovering by the door.
‘You can go now, Nasreem,’ Thackeray said, and she slipped out looking grateful. The DCI turned back to Charlene Brough, feeling weary.
‘You say that the cars in the circle had their headlights on,’ he said. ‘So whatever was
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