Free Director's Cut by I. K. Watson

want
another. Let's see what we've got at the end of the day.”
    It was well known that Baxter did not have much time for
psychologists, even one as eminent as Geoff Maynard. Until its
disbandment he had been in charge of HOPE, the Home Office
Psychological Experimental Unit at Green Park. As far as Baxter was
concerned they were detrimental to an investigation. They narrowed
the field, called it tunnel vision, and bits of evidence outside that
narrow track were lost. Profiling, the concept of the nineties, had gone
the way of the magnifying glass. Paul Britton and the judge who
kicked Colin Stagg out of court had seen to that. What was more, much
of the work was being duplicated at Catchem and the National Crime
Faculty at Bramshill.
    After a moment's reflection Baxter said, “But I suppose it wouldn't
hurt to find out where he is and what he's up to.”
    Baxter didn’t catch the look of mild satisfaction that softened the
DI’s eyes.
    The fire at Buncefield had been more or less extinguished and the sky
was clearing but the smell of smoke hung on like a rerun of bonfire
night.
    Donna Fitzgerald arrived in civvies: short black skirt, black jacket
over white shirt, all of it fitting rather snugly. In the corridor a couple
of plods paused to watch her until she turned into the IR then they
shared a nod and a knowing smile and a lot of wishful thinking.
Cole sat on the edge of Chas Walker's desk, arms crossed. They
watched her approach and Walker's eyes lingered too long on various
places between neck and hemline. She cleared her throat, loudly, and
pulled his attention northward. Her glare held an icy threat. Robert
Peary would have been proud of her.
    Cole enjoyed her response. He asked, “What's happening?”
“Surgery is finished but she's still under. I'll get back later. Her
mother's arrived.”
    “Did we get anything?”
    “Guv, she’s too traumatised to give a coherent account, but she did
recognize his aftershave. Unfortunately she couldn't put a name to it.
Expensive, though, forty quid a shot. It'll come to her.”
    Walker said, “He's not short of a few bob then. I make do with
Lynx.”
    “It notices.”
    Cole said, “Injuries?”
    “One breast was all but severed. They've had to remove it. Fifty
stitches to the abdomen and severe internal injuries. I didn't have
much time. He came at her from behind. It was dark. All she saw was
his arm. He was wearing a dark jacket, possibly black. He had his arm
around her neck and slammed her into a wall. She thinks she lost
consciousness.”
    “Whatever else you can get will be useful. You know the form.
Does she smoke?”
    “Not in hospital. Why?”
    “If she doesn't she'll be able to tell you if he does. Even forty quid
aftershave can't hide it.”
    She glanced at Walker. “Nor can Africa.” She looked back at Cole.
“Right, Guv. How long do I stay with her?”
    “As long as it takes. It's down to you to get us something useful.
Did you get to see Carol Sapolsky?”
    “Briefly. Nothing more to add. Came at her from behind. She didn't
get a look.”
    “Try her again, Donna. It's a long shot but if there's a connection
between the two women…”
    Donna nodded. She hadn't worked with Cole before but she’d heard
about him. He came with danger signs. Her sashay from the room was
even more decided and Chas Walker found it difficult not to follow.
Once she'd gone he shook away her image and said, “Not much.”
Cole nodded, “Depends what you’re referring to.”
    “Experience, Guv. She’s a uniform. Maybe a more experienced…”
“Forget it. Don’t even go there.”
    Walker was a copper who went through the motions but he would
never climb the ranks. Sooner or later he would move over to security
which would suit him better. He'd arrived from the army with a
squaddie's attitude and six years on the job hadn't made a difference.
Cole headed for the coffee machine. He found Donna standing next
to it, head slightly bowed, shoulders stooped, her