Page 142 of 36 Hours

‘Lynne,’ he said to get her attention. He pointed to the cheesy grin shaping his mouth.

She visibly relaxed. ‘So it’s okay?’

‘Oh, it is more than okay,’ he said before taking her in his arms.

ONE HUNDRED SEVEN

It was almost 2a.m. when Kim pulled up outside the hospital.

She switched off the engine and took a breath as a car pulled into the staff car park. Even at this time in the morning, staff were coming and going.

The fatigue was starting to tell on her now, and the last few hours were fading into a blur.

While she’d been questioning Fred Guest, her team had been busy tying up loose ends.

Stacey had uncovered through social media that their visit had prompted Peter Harris to make one last effort to connect with his daughter. She had offered him another chance. He had checked into a Travelodge close to where she lived in Derbyshire. Despite his manner, Kim hoped it worked out for him.

Penn had drafted arrest warrants for Jared Truss and Ryan Douglas for obstruction. Both had withheld information that if shared earlier could have saved an innocent man’s life. There had to be some repercussions for their actions.

While trying to talk Fred down, she’d also received a text message from Dickie, the scrap man. Unable to believe that any of his team would be dishonest, he had questioned them all. After threatening them with the police, one of his employees had come clean and admitted to selling the Citroën to an old guy who really, really wanted it just hours after it had entered the yard. He had pocketed the easy five hundred quid, which he’d need now that he’d lost his job.

Boyce Lane had been handed over to West Mercia to deal with. There was no doubt in her mind that Boyce had committed the crime, and the family would now have to live with the stigma they had tried so hard to avoid.

As he’d been driven away, Kim had placed a call to Melissa Keene, who upon hearing the news had collapsed into loud, incoherent tears. David Keene had taken the phone from his wife to confirm that it was really true and that the rapist was in custody. He too had then burst into tears.

Kim prayed that the news would give them both some peace and the ability to take back control of their lives.

The debrief with Woody had gone much as she’d expected, although she had been surprised to learn that during the course of the investigation, not one complaint had landed on his desk. Perhaps she was losing her touch with her ability to annoy people, but she seriously hoped not. It was a quality she was proud of.

She got out of the car and started heading towards the hospital.

Due to Nazeera’s safe return, the brass were not calling for her dismissal. She was under no illusion about it being due to the stellar performance of herself and her team. It was only because the optics wouldn’t look good if the investigator who’d ensured Nazeera returned unharmed was suddenly booted out of her job. Either way, she was grateful for both the absence of complaints and the disciplinary notification. Way too much paperwork to deal with. After a few sharp words from Woody about her performance at the press conference, she’d been sent on her way.

After checking that all the paperwork had been completed, she had dismissed her team and given them a thirty-six-hour break.

She had watched them go with a sense of pride that surprised her. Not one of them had seriously considered bailing on the case even before they’d known what was at stake, and although they had probably been too tired to realise it, they had all performed out of their skins. Stacey, as ever, had been unrivalled in digging out information and growing her hunches into viable leads. Penn had been doggedly determined to discover the identity of the missing homeless man and despite the challenge had never given up on trying to solve the clues, even at his lowest point. She knew he’d ignored her instruction to remain in the Bowl and had instead chosen to give his colleague a rest. That knowledge had only made her respect him more.

And then there was Bryant, the man who offered rare insights at the strangest times, the man who had formed and executed a dangerous plan that had saved the career of a brilliant surgeon, and the only one to prick her conscience and cause her to answer to herself. His words ensured that she would give thought at some stage to what she’d goaded Fred to do and whether she had been as professional as she should have been, and Bryant knew it. He didn’t force her to face her own reflection, but he sure did hand her the mirror.

After watching them leave, she had taken herself to Charlie’s to collect Barney who had been equally pleased to see her as she was to see him. After rolling around on Charlie’s floor with him for a good twenty minutes, she had taken him home, given him his favourite tea of kibble and chicken, taken him for a long walk and then given him his nightly treat of a crunchy carrot. After a quick trip outside, he had settled in his bed and hadn’t even stirred when she let herself quietly out of the house.

The roads had been deserted, and after the frantic pace of the last couple of days, she had found the night drive calming to her system.

She had called ahead to make sure it was okay to visit so late. Due to the circumstances, they had agreed.

She’d made a second call to a different department to be told that Jessica’s surgery was complete and that all the signs were good.

She’d shared the news with the team WhatsApp group and sent a short text to Woody.

She paused her thoughts as she approached the side entrance of the hospital.

‘Jesus Christ,’ she cried out as a shadow to her right took on solid form.

Steve Ashworth smiled at her reaction.

‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ she barked as her heart thumped against her chest. She’d completely forgotten about him.

‘Just wanted a quick word,’ he said as though it was normal to jump out at someone at two o’clock in the morning.