When the Evil Waits by M Lee (i want to read a book .txt) 📗

and turning, his mind in turmoil, searching for possible angles he had missed.

Even though it was Sunday, the Situation Room on the MIT floor was packed when he walked in. For today, the regulations concerning social distancing seemed to be forgotten. He looked for a place to sit but they were all occupied, so he walked to the back and leant against the wall, pulling out his notebook.

A sharp clap and Claire Trent was standing at the front. Next to her, a subdued Paul Turnbull was sitting upright. Even from where he was standing, Ridpath could see the blue vein on the man’s bald head throbbing.

‘Listen up, everyone,’ she began, ‘we’re going back to basics on this investigation. To bring everyone up to speed, last night we released our one and only suspect, Michael Carsley, after we were made aware of new evidence.’

Ridpath heard the passive voice in her statement and wondered what it meant.

A hand went up from the middle of the detectives. ‘What new evidence, boss?’

‘We’ll get to that in a minute. For the moment, let us just say that the evidence made it pretty clear that Michael Carsley was not responsible for the abduction and murder of his son.’

‘Have you seen the papers this morning?’ It was the PR person assigned to the case, Sarah Hampson. She held up a raft of local and national newspapers, each of which had the case on their front pages.

POLICE INTERVIEW AND RELEASE MICHAEL CARSLEY from the Guardian.

FATHER OF DEAD BOY RELEASED by the Manchester Evening News.

GREATER MANCHESTER POLTROONS in the Express.

COCK-UP OVER CARSLEY from the Sun.

The worst was from the Mail:

INCOMPETENCE by Molly Wright.

‘Sorry, I tried to stop these headlines but once a story goes viral and a narrative sets in, it’s hard to stop.’

‘Change the bloody narrative, then,’ snarled Turnbull.

The PR person went bright red. ‘These attacks in the press won’t stop until you make an arrest. It’s even knocked Covid off the front pages.’

‘Thank God for that, if I have to read another article about wearing face masks and washing my hands, I’ll throw a wobbly,’ said Harry Makepeace.

‘Don’t bother, mate,’ said a voice from the back. ‘Just drive to Barnard Castle to check your eyes.’

Claire Trent held her hands up to stop them talking. ‘Sarah is right. These attacks won’t stop until we find the man responsible for this murder… until you find the man responsible.’ She pointed at the assembled detectives and paused to let her message sink in.

Ridpath noticed Emily Parkinson sitting down at the front, taking notes. She hadn’t looked in his direction once. Chrissy was leaning on the wall opposite; she saw him watching her and waved.

Claire Trent continued. ‘As I said at the beginning, we’re going back to basics. I want every assumption questioned, every witness statement examined, every piece of evidence we have tested under a microscope. By this evening, I want to meet again with a full list of facts on this case plus a series of steps we need to follow moving forward.’ She turned to face Turnbull. ‘Paul, you will be in charge of the re-evaluation.’

He nodded once, the vein in his head still bright blue.

‘Once we have questioned everything, I believe it will open up new lines of enquiry which we can pursue.’

A hand went up. ‘You said there was new evidence, boss?’

‘I’m coming to that, Julie.’ She paused. ‘Yesterday, we had to release Michael Carsley because three new pieces of evidence were discovered.’

Ridpath noticed the passive voice again. They were obviously not going to be credited. Emily looked around for the first time, noticed him standing against the wall, and turned back quickly without acknowledging his existence.

Claire Trent switched on her laptop and connected it to the television. A still picture of Daniel Carsley appeared on the screen. She pressed play, adjusting the volume. Daniel and Emily’s voices came over loud and clear as he described inventing the man.

‘Because when we talked to Tony Greene, he said you never left the basketball court. You stayed there all the time playing the game. Did you run across to David?’

Daniel Carsley stared down at his feet and shook his head.

‘I’m sorry, Dan, I’ve got to hear your answer.’

‘No,’ he said quietly.

‘You didn’t run across to talk to a man, did you?’

‘No.’

‘Did you see a man?’

‘No.’

The video stopped and Claire Trent looked across the assembled heads of the detectives of MIT.

‘But that means all the work with the photofit, splashing it across newspapers, going door-to-door was a waste of time?’

Claire Trent glanced at Paul Turnbull. ‘Yes, it was, Harry.’

‘There was no man? The boy made it up? Why?’

‘I think it was because he felt guilty at letting his father and his brother down. He invented a story which made it appear as if he was less culpable.’ Ridpath spoke for the first time.

‘And wasted two weeks of police time,’ grunted Turnbull.

Claire Trent ignored him. ‘Explanations or justifications for what he did don’t matter any more. It happened, we need to move on. Understand?’

The detectives nodded.

Claire Trent returned to her laptop. ‘The second piece of evidence was captured from an ATM at a convenience store.’ She played the footage of David’s abduction, ending the tape by freeze-framing on the white car. ‘This occurred at the same time as David disappeared. We believe this is footage of the abduction.’

Another question came from Alan Parker. ‘Are we sure this is David Carsley?’

‘The ID was confirmed last night by his brother.’

‘The same brother who had lied to us previously…’ said Turnbull, ‘…and yet we believe him this time.’

‘Having seen the footage, I believe he is telling the truth,’ said Claire Trent. You could cut the tension between the two with a blunt knife. It was Turnbull who looked away first.

Claire Trent stabbed the screen of her laptop with an elegantly painted nail. ‘We need to find this white car, people. Harry, I want you to work with Phil Reynolds in CCTV. This is priority. It takes precedence over everything else.’

She played the footage