Free Psycho Alley by Nick Oldham Page B

thanks.’
    She drove off without another word.
    Twenty sweaty, swear-laden minutes later, Henry was driving down the ramps of the car park on to Richardson Street. His hands were black with oil and grime, his face looked as if he had tried to camouflage himself. His annoyance levels were at their highest and as he sped out he almost flattened the lone pedestrian crossing through his headlights, making the poor soul break into a short dash to save himself. Henry did not stop, did not really register the person other than to grumble an obscenity in their direction. He tore away, desperate to get home. Annoyed that he had weakened enough to go to the pub, annoyed – but curious – about the kiss, seething about the flat tyre and aware that the chain of events he’d been foolish enough to put into motion now compromised his sleep time. Tomorrow would be one hell of a difficult day and he needed to be on top form to deal with it. Now he knew he wouldn’t be.
    The pedestrian who had almost become a casualty stood and watched Henry speed away car with a grim smile of satisfaction.

SUNDAY

Four
    B efore he knew what he was doing, Henry had answered the bedside phone and had it to his ear and was in conversation with the FIM – the Force Incident Manager – who was based in the control room headquarters.
    â€˜What? Whoa,’ Henry garbled when he realized he had taken part in a dialogue that didn’t make sense to him. ‘Sorry, Andy, can we start again? My brain is befuddled and I’ve taken in nothing you’ve said to me.’
    â€˜OK, boss, no probs,’ the inspector said patiently. He was accustomed to contacting people at godforsaken hours of the day and conversing with idiots.
    â€˜What time is it, first?’
    â€˜Six thirty.’
    Quick calculation: six hours sleep, well, six hours in bed, two hours tossing about and traipsing endlessly to the bathroom (note: get prostate checked) and four hours in a middling dream-filled sleep which was unsatisfactory to say the least. He cringed.
    â€˜OK, go on.’
    â€˜You wanted to know asap about any response to your message switch to all forces regarding the body in the car.’
    Suddenly Henry was fully awake and operating. He waited for the FIM to continue.
    â€˜North Yorkshire Police have responded. A young girl was snatched in Harrogate Friday evening. Nine years old. Not been found yet. Disappeared between her home and her grandmother’s about quarter of a mile away. They’re very concerned.’
    â€˜Right … we’re due for a briefing at eight this morning, but do me a favour and turn out DI Roscoe and DS Debbie Black. Ask them to meet me at the MIR at Blackpool as soon as. Send a copy of the message from North Yorks to the MIR, too, will you?’
    â€˜Will do.’
    â€˜And thanks for letting me know.’
    Henry got dressed in the walk-in wardrobe, spinning dangerously around as he pulled on his M&S Y-fronts and socks, trying not to disturb Kate too much and probably not succeeding terribly well. He crashed out of the wardrobe to find her up on one elbow staring crossly at him.
    â€˜Sorry,’ he said, bending to kiss her. ‘Could be a long one, this.’
    â€˜I gathered. Just keep in touch, OK?’
    â€˜Yep.’ He snuck out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He felt his face. He had showered when he got in from changing the tyre and shaved at the same time, as he had thought something like this might happen. He didn’t want to be rushing round so he had prepared himself for the eventuality, like the good boy scout he had never been. If only he could have got some decent sleep, the plan would have worked quite well. As it was, he was well groomed but feeling no better than before, and his leg still hurt and his eye throbbed. Before leaving the house he helped himself to two Anadin Ultra capsules and pocketed the rest of the packet now that his hospital supply had