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was no longer based at the same station as her because he had jurisdiction over multiple stations in the area and the local chief inspectors were answerable to him. Jessica had seen him once or twice since his elevation and he always said ‘hello’ to her.
    Given the strange nature of the test results, it was felt someone far more senior than them should be the one who filled the governor in. No one was directly accusing him of a failure but he would be asked to double-check the security arrangements on the particular wing Donald McKenna was housed on. Coming from someone as senior as the DSI meant he couldn’t complain. The key thing was, no one was accusing the prison of being negligent, they simply didn’t know what had happened.
    Having spoken to Rowlands, Jessica exited the main floor and headed to Cole’s office. She found him typing on his keyboard. ‘Is he ready for us yet?’ Jessica flicked her eyes upwards, indicating the floor above and the DCI’s office.
    ‘Yes but he’s not in a good mood. I don’t think he liked having to make that call to Aylesbury earlier.’
    ‘I think he’s still pissed off at having to cross the border.’
    Detective Chief Inspector John Farraday originally came from Yorkshire but had been asked to move to Manchester after Aylesbury had been promoted. Usually, there would have been an internal appointment from the local police force but DI Cole had only been promoted to his current position less than two years ago and was never in contention. There was no obvious choice in the other local stations so management had looked elsewhere for a suitable person.
    To Jessica, it made absolutely no difference where someone came from; she treated people as she found them. To a few older members of the team, there was still some sort of bizarre cross-county resentment in relation to a Yorkshireman coming to Greater Manchester and telling them what to do. Before he started, a couple of the more experienced uniformed officers spoke about how ‘tight’ they expected the new appointment to be. It didn’t help that Farraday himself didn’t seem overly pleased at having to live in Manchester. In the past six months, Jessica must have heard him complain about the ‘pissing rain’ at least three times a week. Still, it did piss with rain at least three times a week, so he probably had a point.
    Cole stood up from his desk and they both went up to the first floor. They walked past the windows of their boss’ office and knocked on the door before being waved in. ‘Cole. Daniel,’ Farraday said. He greeted everyone by their surnames and Jessica had a sneaking suspicion it was because he couldn’t remember their first names or titles.
    Farraday was sitting in his chair doing something on his mobile phone. He was around six feet tall but seemed more imposing because of his large chest and shoulders. He was somewhere in his late forties but had only just begun to go grey. Jessica often thought he would have been an extremely good-looking guy when he was a little younger. He had a very symmetrical face and, although the wrinkles were building up with age, he still had a boyishness about him. That was until he spoke. The man had an enormous voice even when speaking at a regular volume, let alone when he shouted. His accent was thick and something he was obviously proud of.
    The two officers sat and Farraday put his down phone and began.
    ‘I’ve just finished speaking to the superintendent. From what he says, the prison governor is not happy whatsoever. He reckons we’re telling him how to do his job. Personally, I think he probably needs to be told how to do his job but it wasn’t my call to make. Either way, it’s been cleared for you two to go back tomorrow. You can interview McKenna again and check whatever you want in his cell or wherever.’
    He was drumming his fingers on the desk while he spoke. ‘Based on whatever you come back with, someone’s going to have to make a decision