on him. ‘Why?’
‘It’s routine in cases like these . . .’ Daniels said. ‘We must be absolutely sure we’ve covered every possibility. I’d also like a word with the artist who
painted Jessica’s portrait. I imagine they’ll have talked a lot during the time they spent together. I’d be grateful if you would point me in the right direction.’
‘No stone unturned, is that it?’
‘Something like that.’ Daniels didn’t want to row with him. In fact she just wanted out of there, the sooner the better. ‘I’ll also need to interview your staff. If
we could have a list by morning, that would be helpful.’
‘You’ll have it within the hour,’ Finch said.
Opening the desk drawer, he removed a business card and handed it over with the name and studio of the artist in question, a woman named Fiona Fielding. They thanked him and went off to look
around the house for clues. Their search was unproductive. Two hours later, Mrs Partridge showed them out. Daniels felt the woman’s eyes on her back as she walked to her car, keying in
Robson’s number before she reached it. The Toyota’s lights flashed and the door locks clunked open.
Robson picked up. ‘What’s up, boss?’
‘What’s not? I want you to arrange an emergency meeting of the squad for four o’clock sharp. Also, give Bright a bell and tell him it’s confirmed: Amy Grainger
was
wearing Jessica Finch’s clothes and jewellery. I want the Major Incident Suite made ready. This is now a linked incident and we can’t run it from a cottage in the wilds of
Northumberland. We’re going to have to make other arrangements. I’ll let the guv’nor know we’re moving back to town as soon as possible. Except you. I’d like to leave
you up there for a few days to coordinate things that end.’
There was a short pause.
‘Robbo? You OK with that?’
‘No problem. You want everyone at the briefing?’
‘If humanly possible, yes . . .’ She started the engine and moved off with Finch watching from his library window. ‘And just for your information, the motive wasn’t
financial. That necklace was worth a mint.’
Daniels hung up. If robbery wasn’t the motive, then what was? Someone was threatening Finch, but for what purpose? No demands had yet been made.
‘You’re thinking again,’ Gormley said. ‘I can hear the cogs turning from here.’
‘The lack of contact from Jessica’s abductors worries me.’ Daniels slowed as the gates to the Mansion House opened, allowing them to move off the estate. ‘There’s
only one reason I can think of for that. Amy Grainger was chosen in order to send a graphic warning to Finch.’
‘Some warning!’ Gormley said.
‘Someone must really hate him. We find out why and we’ll find our man.’
Gormley settled down in his seat, making himself comfortable for the drive to Newcastle. They hadn’t yet spoken about Daniels’ absence from work, the unease she felt at being back,
the confidence she’d lost. In fact they’d seen little of each other at all in the past few days, which was unheard of in the normal course of a week’s work.
For her part, Daniels was aware Hank had his own problems to sort and she didn’t want to add to them.
She glanced at him. ‘How’s Julie?’
‘Why d’you ask?’ It was almost a grunt.
‘Just making conversation. You heard from her?’
‘Nothing civil.’
‘Ryan?’
‘What is this, Twenty Questions?’
When Gormley’s sense of humour went walkabout that usually meant he didn’t want to talk. Daniels wondered what was going on. It wasn’t like him to be secretive and she hoped
his silence wasn’t an indication that things had gone from bad to worse at home. She shouldn’t have mentioned his wife and son. Any minute now her DS would cross his arms, shut his
eyes, and hang like a bat from his seat belt so she couldn’t quiz him any more.
‘I’ll take that as a no then, shall I?’ She accelerated round a bend in the road.
‘Why
‘It’s routine in cases like these . . .’ Daniels said. ‘We must be absolutely sure we’ve covered every possibility. I’d also like a word with the artist who
painted Jessica’s portrait. I imagine they’ll have talked a lot during the time they spent together. I’d be grateful if you would point me in the right direction.’
‘No stone unturned, is that it?’
‘Something like that.’ Daniels didn’t want to row with him. In fact she just wanted out of there, the sooner the better. ‘I’ll also need to interview your staff. If
we could have a list by morning, that would be helpful.’
‘You’ll have it within the hour,’ Finch said.
Opening the desk drawer, he removed a business card and handed it over with the name and studio of the artist in question, a woman named Fiona Fielding. They thanked him and went off to look
around the house for clues. Their search was unproductive. Two hours later, Mrs Partridge showed them out. Daniels felt the woman’s eyes on her back as she walked to her car, keying in
Robson’s number before she reached it. The Toyota’s lights flashed and the door locks clunked open.
Robson picked up. ‘What’s up, boss?’
‘What’s not? I want you to arrange an emergency meeting of the squad for four o’clock sharp. Also, give Bright a bell and tell him it’s confirmed: Amy Grainger
was
wearing Jessica Finch’s clothes and jewellery. I want the Major Incident Suite made ready. This is now a linked incident and we can’t run it from a cottage in the wilds of
Northumberland. We’re going to have to make other arrangements. I’ll let the guv’nor know we’re moving back to town as soon as possible. Except you. I’d like to leave
you up there for a few days to coordinate things that end.’
There was a short pause.
‘Robbo? You OK with that?’
‘No problem. You want everyone at the briefing?’
‘If humanly possible, yes . . .’ She started the engine and moved off with Finch watching from his library window. ‘And just for your information, the motive wasn’t
financial. That necklace was worth a mint.’
Daniels hung up. If robbery wasn’t the motive, then what was? Someone was threatening Finch, but for what purpose? No demands had yet been made.
‘You’re thinking again,’ Gormley said. ‘I can hear the cogs turning from here.’
‘The lack of contact from Jessica’s abductors worries me.’ Daniels slowed as the gates to the Mansion House opened, allowing them to move off the estate. ‘There’s
only one reason I can think of for that. Amy Grainger was chosen in order to send a graphic warning to Finch.’
‘Some warning!’ Gormley said.
‘Someone must really hate him. We find out why and we’ll find our man.’
Gormley settled down in his seat, making himself comfortable for the drive to Newcastle. They hadn’t yet spoken about Daniels’ absence from work, the unease she felt at being back,
the confidence she’d lost. In fact they’d seen little of each other at all in the past few days, which was unheard of in the normal course of a week’s work.
For her part, Daniels was aware Hank had his own problems to sort and she didn’t want to add to them.
She glanced at him. ‘How’s Julie?’
‘Why d’you ask?’ It was almost a grunt.
‘Just making conversation. You heard from her?’
‘Nothing civil.’
‘Ryan?’
‘What is this, Twenty Questions?’
When Gormley’s sense of humour went walkabout that usually meant he didn’t want to talk. Daniels wondered what was going on. It wasn’t like him to be secretive and she hoped
his silence wasn’t an indication that things had gone from bad to worse at home. She shouldn’t have mentioned his wife and son. Any minute now her DS would cross his arms, shut his
eyes, and hang like a bat from his seat belt so she couldn’t quiz him any more.
‘I’ll take that as a no then, shall I?’ She accelerated round a bend in the road.
‘Why
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