Free Blind Fury by Lynda La Plante Page B

didn’t get Potts’s suitcase—even better, the bloody notebook with the license-plate numbers. That’d have been really helpful.” He smiled at her again, and she started to find it unnerving. “Shame you didn’t question Emerald Turk first time round and not that impatient bugger Barolli. Knowing you, I doubt you’d have let it slip past you.”
    She was even more puzzled and glanced at Mike Lewis, who was leaning against the wall, his hands stuffed into his pockets.
    “Maybe not,” she said.
    Langton stretched back in his chair and puffed out his breath. “I’ve got a lot of cases I’m overseeing, but this one causes me the most concern. Three dead women estimated to have all been killed by the same perpetrator—and from the MOs, it’s maybe more than estimated—but nevertheless, we have no leads connecting each victim. Hard to, when two remain unidentified. All we know for sure is that Potts was earning her keep shagging punters from the service stations, but whether or not the other two girls were also on the game . . .” He shrugged. “Then we have this creep Cameron Welsh. Now, if he is tugging our strings out of a misguided ego trip and he just wants to prove something to himself, do we dismiss him out of hand? What if he does have information? What if he could, as he said, get into the mind of our killer?”
    “I very much doubt that,” Anna said, but she sensed what was coming and wouldn’t look at Langton.
    “We have to go back,” Langton said, “and this time I will allow him to look at the postmortem report and—”
    “You may be right, but I hope you don’t want me to go and see him again.”
    “Sorry, but I do. He wants to interact with you. In Barolli’s report, he said Cameron turned his chair away from him so he wouldn’t have to look at him, and directed his entire conversation to you.”
    “Well, yes, he did, but I’m female, and I think he just wants to get his rocks off having me there.”
    “Fancies you, does he?”
    She was getting angry. “I wouldn’t know what that sick twisted creep felt about me, but I would prefer it if someone else went to talk to him.”
    Langton stood up. “I’ll tell you what we’ll do: you go and visit him again and see what he comes up with. If you are unable to deal with it, then we’ll arrange for one of the others to be with him.”
    “It’s not a question of me being unable to deal with it. I just feel uncomfortable and would prefer not to be the one to interview him again.”
    “You won’t be alone; Barolli will accompany you. I’ve already arranged it with the governor.”
    Anna stood up. “So I don’t have an option?”
    “Afraid not. Drive up there first thing in the morning. That’s all. Thank you.”
    Anna wanted to slam the door of the office, but instead, she walked out with her hands clenched, trying to control her temper. In the incident room, she told Barolli they were on another scheduled visit to Cameron Welsh, and he swore.
    “It’s a bloody waste of time, didn’t you tell Langton that?”
    “Why don’t you tell him?” Anna snapped, then added that perhaps he shouldn’t, as Langton didn’t like the fact that he hadn’t found the suitcase belonging to Margaret Potts.
    Barolli was still bad-tempered when Anna collected him the following morning. He remained silent for a long time, obviously furious at having to take the long journey again and the fact that he had let himself and the team down by not interviewing Emerald Turk well enough. The team still had no result in tracing the ex–police officers who were used by Margaret Potts to get back at the men who had beaten her up. The consensus was that even if they did trace them, they doubted it would progress their case. Langton, however, had insisted they continue in case one of the men picked up by Potts was their killer.
    Anna and Barolli arrived at the prison and went through the same lengthy procedure. This time they did not meet with the governor,