Page 111 of The Killer’s Mark

Poe ended the call.

‘What now, Poe?’ Bradshaw said. ‘What if Kai Jin doesn’t call? What if he calls but doesn’t know anything?’

Poe put his head in his hands. Took a moment to gather his thoughts. ‘We’ll think of something, Tilly.’

‘But what if we can’t?’

‘Then we’ll talk to someone who can think of something.’

The door to the office burst open and Estelle marched in. She’d been crying. She’d been crying so much her mascara had run. It made her look like a racoon. She wasn’t crying now, though. She’d got it out of her system. Poe had never seen her like this before. He shuddered. She planted her hands on the table. Leaned across and got in his face. Poe shrank back. Didn’t mean to, but the look on her face was terrifying.

‘Bring Esmerée back to me, Poe,’ she said, her voice flat and ominous. ‘Talk to whoever you need to talk to. Go wherever you need to go. Do whatever it takes. You don’t seek permission and you ignore the rules. This time there are no rules. Not when it comes to getting that poor girl back.’

Poe stood. He walked around the table and hugged her.

‘I’ll get her back,’ he whispered into her ear. ‘I don’t know how yet, but I swear to you, I will get her back.’

Behind them Bradshaw reached for the phone. ‘No rules,’ she muttered to herself. ‘I know just the man for that.’

Chapter 89

‘Right, you’re both too close to this investigation,’ Estelle said. ‘Until it’s over, I’m in charge. We do what I say. Do either of you have a problem with that?’

Poe didn’t. He needed Estelle to fulfil Flynn’s old role. Flynn’s strengths had been keeping them on task. Taking care of the bullshit so he and Tilly could do what they did best. ‘Fine with me, boss,’ he said.

‘Tilly?’

‘We need someone to keep us focused, Lady Estelle Doyle-Poe,’ Bradshaw said.

Despite the circumstances, Poe smiled. Bradshaw worked well under pressure. Very well. She had that rare knack of being able to shut down the parts of her mind she didn’t need. Put her entire bandwidth into the task at hand. But when that happened, she tended to revert to her old, very formal way of addressing her friends and colleagues. Full names. Titles.

‘Good,’ Estelle said. ‘The first thing we need to do is get a nice cup of tea.’

‘Is this really the best use of our …’ Poe started to say. Stopped himself. ‘Good idea. My throat’s drier than a popcorn fart.’

‘That’s yucky, Poe,’ Bradshaw said. ‘Why are we drinking tea, Lady … Estelle?’

‘Because we need a circuit breaker. Something to clear our minds,’ Estelle said. ‘How many times have you thought of something important when you weren’t forcing yourself to think about it, Poe?’

‘More often than not,’ he admitted. ‘When I’m out with Edgar usually.’

‘Edgar’s not here. The kettle is. I’ll pop it on and we’re all going to watch it boil.’

They took their drinks back to Poe’s conference table. Poe sat. So did Bradshaw.

Estelle remained on her feet. ‘If we didn’t have a personal connection to this, what would you do, Poe?’ she said.

‘If I was a cop, or now?’

‘Now.’

‘Call Cumbria Police. And then I’d call Detective Chief Inspector Gilliard. Let the NCA know.’

‘Why haven’t you?’

He took his time before saying, ‘Like you said, we have a personal connection. I didn’t want to rush into anything.’

‘Do you still think that?’