Free Hit and Run by Cath Staincliffe

her head, refusing to listen and shut the door.
    Butchers stood there, his jaw tight, his hands clenched, his breathing ragged. Across the waste ground the sky arced, a canvas of heavy clouds interrupted here and there by shafts of vibrant sunlight. She’d seen it all from here, Butchers thought, a clear view across to where the car had been left. And now? Had she got kids? He wanted to bray on the door again, drag her out and force her into his car. He waited long enough and then, feeling sick, turned to go.
     
    ‘I had to release them,’ Janine told him when he reported to her office. ‘Without that witness …’
    ‘Changed her mind,’ he laughed harshly. ‘Had it changed for her, more like.’
    Shap nodded in agreement.
    ‘But they’re good for it,’ Butchers insisted. ‘They were seen leaving the car.’ He was agitated, reluctant to accept the situation.
    ‘By a witness who won’t stand up,’ she said emphatically. ‘We need something stronger. We’ll keep tabs on them, a couple of DCs round the clock, and keep digging. Pull them back in as soon as we’ve a stronger case. We’re getting wall to wall press coverage and I’m sure we’ll get more people coming forward.’
    ‘But, Boss …’
    ‘That’s the way it is, Butchers. Deal with it.’ She was surprised at his pushing it. He knew the rules.
    ‘Now I’m going to pay a call on the Chinleys, later.’ She paused, looking from one of them to the other by way of invitation. Shap avoided eye contact, Butchers showed willing. ‘’Bout five thirty,’ she told him. ‘Come and find me.’
     
    The remaining couple of hours flew by as she read reports from the teams on the cases and double checked that she’d recorded everything she had to in her case-book.
    She was almost ready to leave when Richard arrived back from the Topcat Club.
    ‘Harper wasn’t best pleased to learn Stone is down for nicking his car,’ he said.
    ‘But he didn’t put Rosa and Stone together?’
    Richard shook head. ‘And no one else did either.’
    Janine groaned. ‘It’s like juggling soot.’
    ‘Welcome back.’
    She rocked her head from side to ride, trying to ease the tension in her neck. ‘I’ve done a day’s work before I clock on. I knew I’d be stretched but I didn’t expect it to be quite so full on so soon.’
    He smiled. ‘How about dinner,’ he said, ‘my treat? Next evening we get free.’
    Oh, God. She hadn’t the energy. Any free evenings were for chores and kids and collapsing – not sparkling conversation and long, leisurely meals.
    ‘Richard, thanks. But … you’d have to stab me with a fork just to keep me awake. My biggest ambition is eight hours unbroken sleep … six,’ she amended. ‘I’ll let you know when she starts sleeping through.’ She smiled as she opened her office door. ‘Took Tom three years.’ She laughed at the ripple of exasperation that crossed his face.
     
     
     

Chapter Eight
     
    The Chinleys lived in a neat brick terraced house a few minutes walk from Oak Lane school. They were attractive properties with generous sized rooms, stained glass in the windows, wooden porches overhanging the front door and small gardens back and front. Janine and Pete had almost bought one on the adjoining street but the sale had fallen through and they’d ended up buying something bigger a few months later when the death of Pete’s father meant they could afford a bigger deposit. These terraces were selling for a small ransom nowadays as more and more professionals looked for housing in the area.
    Debbie and Chris Chinley both came to the door. Debbie seemed tinier than ever, made frail by grief, like a damaged bird. Chris looked remote, his eyes never really focusing on the here and now.
    Their living room was adorned with photos of Ann Marie. Their only child.
    ‘I’m so sorry,’ Janine said. You could never say it enough. Not for something like this. Butchers nodded his own condolences.
    ‘Thanks for your