‘It was on Tuesday lunchtime.’
Before he phoned Alex from the payphone, Annie thought, and shortly before he’d parked the car in Scarborough. ‘The day after my colleague and I visited you at Tesco?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why didn’t you call us?’
‘I… I…’ Denise Lane just shook her head.
‘Was it because he’s your son?’ Banks said. ‘And no matter what he might have done, you’ll take care of him?’
Denise looked heartbroken at that. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘But I didn’t. I mean, I don’t think he’s done anything. He’s a good boy. I really believe that. But he was scared and cold. I think he’d been sleeping rough, maybe in the car on the moors. It gets cold out there. And he hadn’t eaten. He said he didn’t have much money with him, and he couldn’t use his credit or debit cards because you’d be able to trace him. His mobile, too. He was just keeping it switched off.’
‘So what happened?’
‘He asked if he could stay for a while.’
‘Did you tell him about my visit?’ Annie asked.
‘Yes. Well, I had to, didn’t I? He deserved to know you lot were after him.’
‘How did he react?’
‘He wasn’t surprised. It didn’t seem to bother him. I mean, he didn’t run off or anything.’
‘How did he appear? Was he upset, frightened, worried?’ Banks asked.
‘Of course he was. All of those.’
‘Did you notice… I mean, did he have any blood on him anywhere?’
Denise’s eyes widened again. ‘Blood? Good Lord, no. Why would Michael have blood on him?’
‘Never mind,’ said Banks. ‘What did you do?’
‘I gave him a cup of hot sweet tea and something to eat, some cake. He wouldn’t say anything else – said it was better if I didn’t know – but I could see he was in trouble. I said he should just go and see you, the police, like, and explain that he hadn’t done whatever you think he has, and you’d sort it all out, but he wouldn’t.’
‘We don’t know that he has done anything,’ said Banks. ‘It’s for his own safety, and that of his partner and her child, that we want to find him as soon as possible.’
‘Alex? And Ian?’
‘You know them?’
‘He mentioned them, that’s all. I mean, I knew about them, but he’d never really talked before. This time I could see he was head over heels. He said he would bring them to see me one day Ollie was out, then… all this…’
‘Well, as long as Michael’s missing, they’re in danger, too. Did you let him stay? Is he here now?’
Denise stiffened. ‘No. I couldn’t possibly do that.’
‘Why not?’
‘Ollie was home. He often comes home for his lunch. It’s not far away and it… well, it saves a bit of money. You have to understand: Ollie doesn’t know Michael. That’s a part of my other life, and Ollie doesn’t like to talk about that. That’s why he had to be out if they were going to visit.’
Banks was getting the picture. He glanced at Annie, and by her expression he knew that she was getting it, too. ‘Your other life?’ he said.
‘Yes. At the farm. We’ve drawn a line under that, Ollie said.’
‘And that includes Michael? Alex and Ian?’
Her eyes teared up, and she nodded. ‘It’s not me. Honest. I would have taken him in in a second, but Ollie wouldn’t have it. Said he wasn’t having no outlaws on the run staying in his house, and Michael should think himself lucky we didn’t just call the police right there and then and turn him in. Michael pleaded with him. I pleaded with him. But it did no good. In the end, Michael got mad and left. Just drove away.’ She wrung her hands. ‘I hope nothing’s happened to him. I’d never forgive myself.’
‘We don’t think so, Mrs Lane,’ said Banks. ‘Not yet. But it’s vital that we find him as soon as possible.’
‘Did he say anything about where he might be going next?’ Annie asked.
‘No. I’m sorry.’
‘He didn’t get in touch again? Phone, or anything?’
‘No.’
‘Is there anything else you can tell us, however insignificant?’
Denise thought for a moment. ‘When he was going, when we were alone at the front door, I managed to slip him some money we’d been putting by in the hall sideboard.’
‘How much money?’
‘It was only a hundred pounds, but it was all we had. Our “mad” money. When Ollie found out he went spare.’
I’ll bet he did, thought Banks. A hundred pounds wasn’t very much these days. It might get you mediocre lodgings for three, perhaps four nights, if you didn’t eat, or a couple of tanks of petrol. Lane abandoned his car even though he had the money to buy petrol. He had paid for parking because he wasn’t thinking and had simply done what he would normally do. Had the car broken down? Everyone said it was on its last legs. The forensic mechanics would be able to tell him about that. Or was Lane planning to come back for the car later, but something had happened to prevent him? He had phoned Alex that evening from York, so he had still been free then.
If he were to hazard a guess, Banks would have said that Lane left the car just to confuse everyone, took a train to York, wandered about there for a while plucking up the courage to phone Alex, then headed for London.
And Montague Havers lived in London.
The dinner was delightful, the service impeccable without being obtrusive, the crispy duck breast cooked just the way Winsome loved it, and Terry said his entrecôte and frites were spot on. For starters, they shared chicken liver pâté, and instead of a sweet, they went for the cheese plate, which was served, as it should be, at room temperature. They drank a simple inexpensive Rioja, nothing outrageous or ostentatious, and Terry had only one glass because he had to drive. The small glass of ruby port he ordered for Winsome later went exceptionally well with the cheese. Their conversation flowed with an ease Winsome hadn’t realised existed. Terry didn’t talk about his experiences in Afghanistan, and Winsome largely avoided talking about her job. As they laughed a lot and told one another stories about their potholing experiences and areas they had explored, they found so many topics in common that they could have carried on talking all night. Terry had even been to Montego Bay on a couple of occasions, and had visited the area around Spring Mount and Maroon Town, where Winsome had spent her childhood as the daughter of a local police corporal. His own childhood, he confessed, had been that of an army brat, never staying anywhere long and finding it very difficult to make friends.
The only disagreement arose when it was time to pay the bill, and even that was minor. Terry insisted on paying for the two of them, whereas Winsome insisted on going Dutch. In the end, Winsome won, and Terry was gracious in defeat. As they left the bistro, Winsome noticed that he wasn’t carrying his stick, just an umbrella.
They walked out on to Castle Hill, and Winsome immediately felt the wind and rain bring a chill to her bones. In her mind there flashed a vision of the country they had been talking about, where she had been brought up. Banana leaves clacking in the wind, the long walk to and from church in her Sunday best in the searing heat, out-of-season days walking the deserted beaches around Montego Bay, looking for driftwood with her father. She felt herself shiver. For better or for worse, England was her home now.
Terry moved closer and put a tentative arm round her, sheltering the two of them under his umbrella’s broad black circle. She felt herself stiffen a little at his touch, but she didn’t shake him off. She could hear the umbrella whipping about in the wind, straining at the metal spokes, and feared it would snap inside out or simply fly off into the sky. Maybe they’d go with it, like Mary Poppins. But Terry managed to keep a grip on it as they headed round the corner and down the cobbled road towards the lights of the town square, the castle behind them tastefully floodlit against the sky. The shops were all closed, but the pubs and restaurants were open and the sounds of conversation and laughter drifted up on the night air along with the sounds of high heels clicking across the cobbles.