head. ‘Not in here.’ She made them wait until they were back in the car before she spilled the beans. ‘The good news is that we’ve found the car and arrested the owner. The bad news is that there’s still no sign of Annie.’
‘Have they looked in his freezer?’ Tina was close to tears.
‘Freezer?’ Penny was confused.
‘No, Tina, you mustn’t think like that, love.’ Ruth fired the engine. ‘Let’s get back to the house, then we can talk properly and I can make some more calls.’
***
George Cotter didn’t look like a child abductor. Then again, in DI Karen Fitzgerald’s experience, people rarely revealed the monster within. He had been dealt with by the custody officer on his arrival at the station and she now had him sweating in the interview room, a grubby space with one small window, and that too high up to afford a view of freedom. She looked at her watch: he’d been in there about twenty minutes, no laces in his shoes, inky fingertips reminding him of his guilt.
She nodded to her colleague. ‘Come on then, let’s go and see what he has to say for himself.’ They went into the room and, once the preliminaries had been dealt with, Fitzgerald got on with the business of the day.
‘Mr Cotter, I’m DI Karen Fitzgerald and this is DC Robert Winter. Do you understand why you’re here?’
Cotter nodded. He looked dazed, like he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. ‘The car. You found something in my car.’
‘Your car has been provisionally identified as the vehicle used in the abduction of a child on Saturday night.’
‘That’s not possible.’
‘Can you tell me where you were between the hours of ten p.m. on Saturday night and two a.m. on Sunday morning?’
‘I was at home with my wife. We went to bed about ten o’clock.’
‘Is that usual, sir?’
‘Yes. We have a cup of Horlicks around half past nine, then put the mugs in the sink and go to bed. We’ve always done that. For years.’
‘And your wife will be able to confirm this?’
‘Well … yes. Yes, of course she will.’
Yes, thought Fitzgerald, o f course she will. Guaranteed. The wives always bloody did. ‘The officers who called at your house found a T-shirt in the back of your car. Can you tell me how it got there?’
‘I have no idea. I had never seen it before, never even heard of the pop group concerned.’
‘When was the last time you used your car, sir?’
‘What?’
‘Your car, sir. When did you last drive it anywhere.’
‘Let me see … that would have been when I came home from work on Friday night. I work at the Civic Centre. In accounts.’
‘Did you go out over the weekend?’
Cotter picked at his ear. ‘We had planned to go to the town on Saturday. We need a new pressure cooker and there’s a sale on at Debenhams, but Joyce didn’t feel well. By the time Sunday morning came, she was full of cold.’
Fitzgerald nodded: that tallied with what Atkinson and Cross had told her.
‘So I went to church on my own.’
‘What time was that?’
‘I left around ten.’
‘And you didn’t drive to church, sir?’
‘No, no need, it’s just around the corner. Walking distance.’
‘Which church?’
‘The Ebenezer Tabernacle.’
‘We’ll need the details of anyone who can confirm you were there.’
‘Everyone there knows me. I’m the treasurer, have been for years.’
‘What time did you get home after church?’
‘Just after noon. I stayed to chat with the pastor when the service was over. Just for a short while, because of Joyce being ill. I haven’t been out since.’
‘No work today, sir?’
Cotter shook his head. ‘No, no. I rang in and arranged a couple of days off so I could look after Joyce. She’s really very poorly, she needs me.’ He looked at Fitzgerald, his eyes pleading, his hands open in a matching gesture. ‘She needs me,’ he repeated.
‘She’s fine, sir, there’s someone with her.’
‘A nurse?’
‘A
‘Have they looked in his freezer?’ Tina was close to tears.
‘Freezer?’ Penny was confused.
‘No, Tina, you mustn’t think like that, love.’ Ruth fired the engine. ‘Let’s get back to the house, then we can talk properly and I can make some more calls.’
***
George Cotter didn’t look like a child abductor. Then again, in DI Karen Fitzgerald’s experience, people rarely revealed the monster within. He had been dealt with by the custody officer on his arrival at the station and she now had him sweating in the interview room, a grubby space with one small window, and that too high up to afford a view of freedom. She looked at her watch: he’d been in there about twenty minutes, no laces in his shoes, inky fingertips reminding him of his guilt.
She nodded to her colleague. ‘Come on then, let’s go and see what he has to say for himself.’ They went into the room and, once the preliminaries had been dealt with, Fitzgerald got on with the business of the day.
‘Mr Cotter, I’m DI Karen Fitzgerald and this is DC Robert Winter. Do you understand why you’re here?’
Cotter nodded. He looked dazed, like he couldn’t believe this was happening to him. ‘The car. You found something in my car.’
‘Your car has been provisionally identified as the vehicle used in the abduction of a child on Saturday night.’
‘That’s not possible.’
‘Can you tell me where you were between the hours of ten p.m. on Saturday night and two a.m. on Sunday morning?’
‘I was at home with my wife. We went to bed about ten o’clock.’
‘Is that usual, sir?’
‘Yes. We have a cup of Horlicks around half past nine, then put the mugs in the sink and go to bed. We’ve always done that. For years.’
‘And your wife will be able to confirm this?’
‘Well … yes. Yes, of course she will.’
Yes, thought Fitzgerald, o f course she will. Guaranteed. The wives always bloody did. ‘The officers who called at your house found a T-shirt in the back of your car. Can you tell me how it got there?’
‘I have no idea. I had never seen it before, never even heard of the pop group concerned.’
‘When was the last time you used your car, sir?’
‘What?’
‘Your car, sir. When did you last drive it anywhere.’
‘Let me see … that would have been when I came home from work on Friday night. I work at the Civic Centre. In accounts.’
‘Did you go out over the weekend?’
Cotter picked at his ear. ‘We had planned to go to the town on Saturday. We need a new pressure cooker and there’s a sale on at Debenhams, but Joyce didn’t feel well. By the time Sunday morning came, she was full of cold.’
Fitzgerald nodded: that tallied with what Atkinson and Cross had told her.
‘So I went to church on my own.’
‘What time was that?’
‘I left around ten.’
‘And you didn’t drive to church, sir?’
‘No, no need, it’s just around the corner. Walking distance.’
‘Which church?’
‘The Ebenezer Tabernacle.’
‘We’ll need the details of anyone who can confirm you were there.’
‘Everyone there knows me. I’m the treasurer, have been for years.’
‘What time did you get home after church?’
‘Just after noon. I stayed to chat with the pastor when the service was over. Just for a short while, because of Joyce being ill. I haven’t been out since.’
‘No work today, sir?’
Cotter shook his head. ‘No, no. I rang in and arranged a couple of days off so I could look after Joyce. She’s really very poorly, she needs me.’ He looked at Fitzgerald, his eyes pleading, his hands open in a matching gesture. ‘She needs me,’ he repeated.
‘She’s fine, sir, there’s someone with her.’
‘A nurse?’
‘A
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