Cold as Ice (Willis/Carter #2)(39)

‘Down. Get down,’ she hissed. Scruffy didn’t move. Tracy marched over and pushed him off the sofa. She heard her phone ring from the kitchen. A sense of relief came over her. It would be Danielle. She would be phoning to tell Tracy she was all right, she was coming home. She walked towards the phone with a calm breathy smile on her face. Stay calm. If I’m calm then so will everyone else be. She answered it before she realized it was a withheld number. She heard the delay between her answering the phone and someone speaking and knew what that meant. Oh God! Even on a day like today, even with every trouble in the world heaped on her shoulders, they were going to ring her about double-glazing or accident compensation.

‘Tracy Collins?’

Tracy was instantly annoyed. They didn’t usually get her name right. They usually called her Mrs Smith or Mrs Jones. They just picked any common name and pretended they weren’t cold-calling She listened hard. The line wasn’t good. Now she was doubly irritated: not only was it an unwanted call but she could hardly make out what the person was saying, it was so quiet and muffled.

‘Yes. Who’s calling? What’s it about?’

The voice, so dark and low, rolled out the words: ‘It’s about your daughter.’





Chapter 17


‘Niall Manson’s in the police cells next door, Guv.’ Ebony came into Carter’s office. She’d been at work since seven. Carter had arrived a short time later. He had managed to get home for a few hours’ sleep after they left Sandford. He had a feeling they had better grab sleep whilst they could.

‘Where’s he living at the moment?’

‘No fixed abode. He was picked up at a friend’s home last night.’

Carter and Ebony crossed over from ‘The Dark Side’ into Archway Police Station next door – a door was all that separated them.

‘I’ll catch you up, Ebb.’

Carter went to talk to another inspector for a few minutes. Ebony’s friend Zoe was waiting outside the interview room.

‘Hi, Ebb.’

‘How’s he been, Zoe?’

‘He’s calm; the lawyer’s arrived now. Don’t think Manson knows what he’s been brought in for.’

Carter joined them and Zoe blushed. Carter was the station’s pin-up boy.

‘Can we go in, Detective?’ Zoe smiled, standing tall. ‘Just taken my detective exams, Sir, not sure if I’ve passed yet.’

‘You’ll be fine.’ He winked at her; his hand was on the door. Ebony followed him inside the interview room and sat down across from Niall Manson. Carter sat next to her, opposite the lawyer.

Manson sat back arrogantly and stared at them. He played with the fingers of his left hand: tapping the tip of his index finger against the pad on his thumb. A nervous habit like someone playing with a rosary. His lawyer sat beside him, tired, yawning.

Carter switched on the recording machine and read Manson his rights. Then he sat back a little in his chair and studied Manson. Carter was good at interviewing. He was good at establishing a baseline. Seeing what was normal for the person and then knowing when something he said created a reaction in their habits, in their voice pitch, control, in the way they breathed – the tell-tale signs that the answer they had just given had been a lie.

‘Can you confirm your name and address for me please?’

Manson sat back and stared around the room.

‘Could you answer please.’

Manson looked across at his lawyer, who nodded, more irritated by his client than Carter was.

Manson’s voice was deep. He had a habit of nodding, breathing in through his nose loudly as if he were bored.

‘Niall Manson.’

‘Address?’

‘Don’t have one.’

Carter spoke into the machine. ‘Address given as “No fixed abode”. Mr Manson, do you understand why we’ve asked you to come in today?’

Manson blew out his cheeks, breathed in, answered,

‘No.’

‘It’s concerning the disappearance of Danielle Foster.’

‘Where’s the bitch run off to?’

Carter smiled; he made sure his eyes stayed on Manson. ‘When was the last time you saw Danielle?’

‘Three weeks ago.’

‘Can you tell me about that time?’

‘It was Jackson’s birthday. She wanted money. If she’s gone missing you better ask one of her dyke friends.’

‘What about when you sent some of your mates around to her flat on Monday night?’ Manson looked at his lawyer, who was busy making notes.

Manson looked disgusted. ‘Yeah – that’s really my style?’ His voice had risen a little.

‘Who were they? They asked for you by name. They definitely knew who you were.’

‘Business acquaintances. I owed them some money is all it is. Nothing more.’

‘You used Danielle’s address to make your deals?’ He shrugged his answer. The finger-tapping had disappeared. ‘How do we know they didn’t just come back and decide to take things further for themselves?’

‘Because I’ve seen to it.’

‘How?’

‘I’ve settled it. They don’t have no reason.’

‘I want their names.’