“Amos?” he said when it was answered. “Did you get anywhere with that little query I left with you?”

“I did, as it happens,” Amos Atherton said. “As you suspected, there was no match with the sample they provided from the putative father.”

“So tests were done, then?”

“Oh, aye. They were done when the babies were two months old.”

“But they weren’t Foreman’s kids and we don’t know whose they were?”

“That’s about it, unless they went elsewhere with a sample from another candidate, as it were.”

“Right,” Thackeray said. “I can think of one likely candidate but I don’t think there’s a cat in hell’s chance of persuading him to take a blood test. It wouldn’t do his case any good at all. Anyway, that’s a great help. Thanks, Amos. I owe you one.”

“A pint of Tetleys’ll do nicely some time,” Atherton said. Thackeray hung up with exaggerated care.

“I’ll have you yet, Foreman,” he said to himself. “If I can catch you out in one lie I’ll catch you out in the rest.”

For an hour he tried to concentrate on the work in front of him, but was not sorry when his door was flung open without ceremony and superintendent Jack Longley dropped yet another file onto his desk and eased his bulk into his visitor’s chair.

“What the bloody hell’s going on up at the Heights?” Longley asked. “I’ve had the ACC in charge of the drug squad bashing my ear for half an hour about out-of-control coppers and interfering reporters and general slackness and insubordination getting in the way of his operations.”

“I told you Mower got involved more or less inadvertently,” Thackeray said mildly. “He had no reason to think that this Project they’re running up there was anything more than it seemed. If indeed it is.”

“Well, according to the ACC someone’s been running round alleging that at least one of the kids who’s died up there was murdered. Was that Mower?”

“Ah,” said Thackeray carefully. “Laura certainly believes that some of the deaths may not be as straightforward as they seemed. She’s talked to people …”

“Apparently Ray Walter thinks it’s all a load of bollocks,” Longley said. “And given that not a single person has suggested anything like that to us, he’s most likely right.”

“Laura’s no fool,” Thackeray said defensively.

“Look, I realise you’re in a difficult position where the Gazette is concerned. But have a quiet word, will you Michael? The squad’s got a man undercover up at Wuthering and they don’t want a loose cannon mucking up the operation. He was the one who tipped them off about drugs at the Project, apparently. As for Mower, you can tell him to pack in this moonlighting he’s been doing and keep away from ongoing operations or he’ll have no bloody job to come back to. He’s lucky they didn’t arrest him yesterday, from what I hear.”

“Right,” Thackeray said wondering where an ultimatum like that would push an over-involved Mower and fearing that it might be over the edge. To his surprise, Longley remained perched on the edge of his seat.

“I had Grantley Adams on the phone this morning too,” he said eventually. Thackeray said nothing, but his lips tightened.

“His lad’s recovering well now,” Longley said. “He was anxious to know how far your investigation’s got on the Ecstasy front.”

“I told Adams we’d want to talk to the boy again when he had recovered, but I don’t expect to get any further. He and the girlfriend have closed up tighter than clams. Has the school taken any action against them?”

“Grantley’s been throwing his weight about there too, I hear,” Longley said. “I don’t know to what effect.”

“Well, I can’t see there being any charges. The cannabis we found wasn’t worth a fiver. Perhaps being booted out of their posh school is just about what they deserve. I didn’t get the impression the head would worry too much about a little matter of evidence.”

Longley smiled, though it was a mirthless effort.

“I thought you wanted to pin Grantley to the ground,” he said.

“It crossed my mind,” Thackeray said. “He’s an arrogant bastard, but you can hardly blame kids for the sins of their parents, can you? Not when we all pay for them in so many other ways.”

“Aye, well, I’d not know about that,” Longley said. “Anyway, keep me in touch, will you. The brass are not happy bunnies right now. I don’t want to give them owt else to fret about if I can help it.”

Kevin Mower glanced at his watch with some anxiety. It was half-past-one and he had arranged to meet Donna Maitland at twelve-thirty in the Woolpack in the centre of town. Dizzy B sat across the table from him with both hands wrapped around a pint of Stella Artois looking as tired and gloomy as Mower himself.

“She not have a mobile, man?” he asked.

“No, she’s mislaid it,” Mower said shortly. “I can’t understand it. She’s arranged to be at social services at two o’clock to talk about Emma. She won’t want to be late.” He had already called the Project and Donna’s flat and got no reply from either.

“They didn’t waste any time grabbing the kid,” Dizzy said.

“If I could get my hands on whoever tipped them off she’d been arrested …”

“The drug squad wouldn’t give a monkey’s how many kids she had or what happened to them. You know they’re a law unto themselves, that lot.”

“But I don’t see why they’d go out of their way to shop her to the council.”

“Maybe,” Dizzy said doubtfully. “Though if they thought it would bring extra pressure to bear …”

“I think I’m losing my grip,” Mower said, running a hand across his beard. “Time was I wanted to be part of the bloody drug squad.”

“You’re too involved with this case. Unless you’re going to pack the job in completely, you should keep your head down or DI Walter’ll chop it off. He’s still got me down as some sort of major dealer, even though there isn’t a shred of evidence to link me to anyone on the Heights ever. I’d never even heard of the bloody estate till last week. At least he let Donna out last night. He kept me sweating till this morning when he bloody well had to let me go. His time was up.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve been officially warned off interfering on the Heights,” Mower said. “If I want to keep my job, that is.”

“And do you?”

Mower shrugged.

“I wish I knew,” he said. He emptied his glass and glanced at his watch.

“I tell you something odd, though,” Dizzy B said. “I saw Darryl at the Carib this morning. He’s furious about the closure. In fact he thinks he might get out of Bradfield there’s so much hassle here. He’s had an offer for the place from some developers he thinks he might take.”

“That figures,” Mower said. “That whole area’s being tarted up. But the Caribbean kids won’t be pleased. It’s the only place they can really call their own.”

“Tell me about it,” Dizzy said. “I tried to persuade him not to sell.” But Mower had lost interest in the Carib. He looked at his watch anxiously again and sprang to his feet.

“Will you stay here, mate?” he asked. “Do us a favour? I’ll go up the hill to see if I can find Donna. She was in a terrible state when she got home last night. She’s going to be late for this appointment if she’s not careful and that won’t go down well with the nannies at social services. Bell me if she turns up?”

“Safe,” Dizzy B said, curling his arms around his glass as if about to fall asleep over it.

By the time he had driven up the steep hill in the pouring rain to the Heights, Kevin Mower felt far from safe. He knew from what he had gleaned of the drug squad operation that there were likely to be eyes watching every move on the Heights, and what the drug squad saw Michael Thackeray might well hear of too. But the gnawing anxiety which had been growing while he had been waiting for Donna could not be denied.

He had been there to greet Donna at the flat the previous evening when she was eventually released on police bail and he had explained Emma’s absence as gently as he could. She had reacted more calmly than he anticipated, turning pale and tight-lipped but holding back the tears and contacting social services by phone without any great show of emotion. She had arranged to see them the next afternoon at a case conference to discuss Emma’s well-being. But Mower could see the tension quivering beneath the façade and had objected angrily when she had eventually asked him to leave at about nine o’clock.