Read Online What She Saw by Mark Roberts - Free Book Online Page B

she just looked ahead, her head slightly dipped, talking to her child. She was heading for Claude House, the housing block where Macy Conner lived.
    â€˜She’d have looked if she’d heard it, so she’s either used to guns going off and has nerves of steel,’ said Rosen, ‘or she’s stone deaf.’ He paused. ‘Or they used a silencer on the gun. We need to find her, fast.’ He focused on Feldman and was glad to have a team member with his level of inexhaustible patience.
    â€˜I’ll go through the lists of tenants, narrow down women with small children in the Bannerman block,’ said Feldman. ‘It shouldn’t take long.’
    â€˜I’ll print off an image of her.’ As Gold picked out a clearer image, Rosen said, ‘Get it copied and I’ll get the uniforms to door-to-door the flats again and find her.’
    Feldman smiled enigmatically at Rosen.
    â€˜Go on, Mike, what’s amusing you?’
    â€˜You’re about to hit me with something. . . tricksy. Let me guess. CCTV footage of all the traffic incoming to the Bannerman Square vicinity?’
    â€˜We’re looking for the stolen Renault Megane that Thomas got burned in,’ said Rosen. ‘It’s got to be there somewhere on CCTV – they had to come in from one of five routes to Bannerman Square.It’s ordered – the footage’ll be here in the next couple of hours.’
    â€˜I love making lists. I love looking at hours and hours of CCTV footage,’ said Feldman, a small smile on his face, his voice deadpan.
    Gold, however, did a poor job of masking his dismay.
    â€˜I don’t take it for granted. From either of you.’
    Rosen looked across at Superintendant Baxter’s door and knew he had to crack on. He addressed both Gold and Feldman: ‘I left a message on Tracey Leung’s voicemail. She hasn’t got back to me yet. We’ll get the inside track from Tracey on who in the gangs especially likes playing with guns.’
    â€˜You think the gangs could be involved in this shit?’ asked Gold, incredulous.
    â€˜If there’s a gun involved on Bannerman Square, I want to check out what’s what with the local gangs.’ Possibilities raced around Rosen’s mind. ‘Yes, I understand your scepticism, as they don’t usually go in for kidnapping small children, but it could be the case that whoever’s abducted Thomas has paid a local bad boy to take out the CCTV camera. Let’s see. Keep trying Tracey for me, OK?’
    Baxter’s door. ACCs. Rosen took a deep breath and knocked.

19
    1.43 P.M.
    T here was no reply. Rosen opened the door. Baxter was at his desk, engrossed in his laptop, furiously typing.
    Rosen took advantage of his superior officer’s distraction and took stock of the room, particularly the wide-angled group photograph of the class that Rosen and Baxter had passed out from at Hendon just under thirty years earlier. Academically, Rosen had been mid-table, but tops in physical matters, street smarts and plain common sense. Baxter was an academic high-flyer, but beneath the middle in just about everything else.
    Rosen knew that Baxter wasn’t the Renaissance Man he liked to project. The two had a silent contract: whatever conflict passed between them, Baxter knew his former classmate would never talk about that other world they had shared when they were both young and raw.
    Baxter stopped typing, looked at Rosen as if he was surprised to see him.
    â€˜David. Have you recruited your forensic psychologist yet?’ He clicked the mouse to send an email. ‘Henshaw, Welch or Simon? Take your pick or I’ll pick for you.’
    â€˜Don’t push me around, Tom.’
    Baxter sighed. ‘Close the door, David.’
    â€˜I’ve already closed it.’
    On Baxter’s desk there was a new family portrait: Baxter and his wife standing behind their seated children, now sixth-formers.