Free Walk a Narrow Mile by Faith Martin Page B

some incident, but not a face to go with them.
    She made detailed notes of everything and anything she could remember, because when you were dealing with a crazy any detail might matter. And she knew that as well as DI Rhumer.
    For all she knew, her stalker could have targeted her because she happened to beat him to a car space at HQ. She might not even have been aware that he’d been competing for the same space. Or she might have seen a group of men, and greeted one by name, and one of the others had felt slighted. Anything could set a crazy off.
    But as she walked into HQ and sought out Rhumer in his office, she didn’t hold out much hope for the list in her hands.
    ‘Hello. Heard you had more contact last night.’ Rhumer greeted her with a thoughtful smile, and she quickly filled him in on last night’s events, although it was clear that he had already been briefed, probably by Steven.
    ‘And here’s your list,’ she concluded, handing it over. ‘As you’ll see, I’ve made notes. But nothing stands out.’
    Rhumer sighed and thanked her, and quickly began to glance through the lists. ‘So, what’s on your agenda today?’
    Hillary smiled. ‘Keep on plugging. I’m going to concentrate on Judy Yelland today, the first girl to go missing. There was no joy at all from her parents – and I mean that literally.’
    Rhumer nodded. ‘OK. Be careful,’ he added, and grunted a short laugh as Hillary gave him a mocking look. ‘Right. Grandmother. Suck eggs. Got it.’
    ‘I’d still rather have my job than yours,’ Hillary grinned, nodding at the long list of names. ‘It’ll take you and your team weeks to work through that lot.’
    ‘Don’t I know it,’ Rhumer groaned. ‘But we’ll start with thoseboth of us have marked, and who knows? We might just get lucky.’
    Hillary left him to it, thinking that they bloody well needed a bit of luck.
    Geoff Rhumer reached for her list. Towards the bottom of the alphabetical list on the last page, was the name of Thomas Warrington. It was neither highlighted in Rhumer’s yellow pen, nor did it have an asterisk with a corresponding note in Hillary’s hand.

    ‘Tell me again who it is we’re seeing?’ Jimmy asked, as he headed towards the Glory Farm area of the market town of Bicester.
    ‘Ruth Coombs. She was the friend of Judy Yelland who reported her missing,’ Hillary said.
    ‘Right, right, I remember. Didn’t the chap who took the original report think that she might well have had something to do with the girl upping sticks in the first place?’
    Hillary nodded. She’d re-read Judy Yelland’s sparse file before collecting Jimmy for the off. ‘Yes. He found her pushy and domineering. Reading between the lines, he had the feeling that she was the sort who liked to be boss, and even marked down in his notes that if Coombs had been his friend, he’d have done a runner too.’
    Jimmy snorted. ‘Sounds like we’re in for a barrel of laughs then.’
    Hillary nodded. ‘It’ll certainly be interesting to see if time’s changed things any.’
    ‘And besides, you always like to make your own judgement calls, right, guv.’
    ‘Always, Jimmy.’

    Ruth Coombs worked in shop on a small industrial estate that specialized in selling camping and outdoor gear. They parked near a large stock of propane cylinders, Jimmy eyeing them warily as they passed.
    ‘Had a bad experience with gas, Jimmy?’ Hillary teased. Living on a boat, she was used to using gas cylinders for all her cooking and heating needs.
    Jimmy grunted something dire about rather being electrocuted than being blown to bits, or burnt, as they pushed on into the shop. It had seen better days, and décor wasn’t a particularly high priority, but at least it had several customers who were all shopping seriously. She supposed, in hard economic times, that cheap camping holidays were better than no holidays at all.
    She waited to pass a man with an enormous beer belly who was stocking up on barbecue