‘But you still want us to follow up on Cobb’s associates?’
‘Absolutely. They were a part of his life. They knew his routine, where he went, who he spoke to. Stay on their backs.’ She surveyed the team. ‘Anything else? Give me something positive, guys, because this is starting to look bleaker than Marcel’s love life.’
She got a laugh, but also hesitation in volunteering information. Eventually, Trisha Lacey raised a finger.
‘CCTV,’ she said. ‘We’ve pulled in footage from the waste tip, and also from cameras lining the route indicated by the cell mast data.’
‘Good. And?’
‘We’re analysing it as quickly as we can.’ Trisha tapped the keys on the computer in front of her, and some grainy images appeared on a large wall monitor. It showed a long line of cars. ‘This is the view at the entrance to the tip. Sunday is one of their busiest days, so we’ve got a lot of vehicles to check.’
‘What about inside the premises? Can we see people getting out of their cars?’
‘Afraid not. This is all we have.’
Hannah sighed. ‘Okay, keep at it. I want you to talk to the owners of every single vehicle that visited that site. One of them has to be our killer.’
30
£4,327.52.
That’s how much they had in their savings account.
Scott had checked. First thing he did after arriving at the garage that Wednesday morning.
It came as a shock. He’d thought they had more. Not a lot more, admittedly, but a rounder, fuller figure. Something a little less undernourished.
Ronan wasn’t going to like it. There was no way to dress up four thousand pounds to look like twenty-five.
Shit.
But facts were facts. What more could he do? They owned nothing of any real worth. Their biggest possession was the car, but that was an old rust-bucket, and an essential one at that. He wasn’t about to risk asking Gemma to sell off her jewellery. Given her current state of mind, she’d probably castrate him.
He worried about it all morning. Throwing himself into his work didn’t help. He saw every tyre pressure as 4327.52. Every car had travelled 4327.52 miles. Every invoice he prepared was for £4,327.52.
Shit and arseholes.
If only he had listened to Gemma and hung on to the money. Maybe the drugs too. Just for a while, until the dust had settled. It would have made life so much easier. He should have known that someone would come looking for it. Hauls like that don’t get written off. Gangsters aren’t known for their devil-may-care attitude. They always want what they see as theirs.
If he’d kept the backpack, he could have simply handed it over to Ronan, and all would be well now. He wouldn’t be fretting over the paltry contents of his savings account.
But there was no use crying over spilt milk.
Spilt blood was another matter.
He had put his family in danger. Perhaps they still were, despite all his reassurances to them.
But no, he thought. It doesn’t do to think like that. Be positive. Talk to Ronan, man to man. Make him see that you’re on your uppers, that you have nothing left to give. Appeal to his humanity. He’ll understand.
No, he won’t. He’ll take one look at your measly four grand and then he’ll kill you. And after that he’ll go after your family. This isn’t going to work.
Shit and arseholes and bollocks.
Scott continued to work. Continued to suffer.
When it came to his lunch break, he told Gavin that he had to dash to the bank. He tried to make it sound like a casual errand, but he felt as though he was establishing an alibi. Gavin munched on his sandwich, apparently oblivious.
When he arrived at the bank, Scott stood outside for a while. This felt so wrong. He was in his oil-stained overalls, but he thought he might as well be wearing a black-and-white striped shirt and a mask.
He took a deep breath and went in. At this time of day, there was a lengthy queue. As he waited his turn, he had to fight to keep his eyes from straying to the security cameras.
Stop it, he told himself. You’re doing nothing wrong. Nothing to feel guilty about.
The cashier was young and smiley, her blonde hair tied up in a ponytail. When he told her he wanted to withdraw all the money from his account, he expected her to drop the affability and begin setting off alarms. But she didn’t. She simply packaged up the money in an envelope, handed it over and wished him a pleasant afternoon.
Just like that. His life savings, and she couldn’t even be bothered to question it.
Which said it all about the magnitude of the sum involved. Water off a duck’s back to them.
Ronan’s going to feel the same way, he thought. The man probably has more than this in his back pocket.
Be positive. Beg for mercy if you have to, but don’t give up before you’ve even tried.
He left the bank and went back to work, the envelope tucked into a pocket beneath his overalls. Throughout the afternoon he kept pressing his hand to the bulge to make sure it was still there, that virtually every penny he had worked for hadn’t simply vanished.
To the bank it might be nothing. To Ronan it might be nothing.
To Scott and his family it was everything.
