Page 43 of Slack Tide Kill

"Probably. She wants our statements, apparently." Liam eyed her. "Especially how the whole thing with the Rooks started."

"She'll have them," Sally answered. "It's simple. I asked them questions. I saw the girl."

"Right. Well. She wants us to wait for her."

Sally glared at Rook. They'd waited for almost two hours for the lawyer to arrive. She felt the boy on the beach's empty eyes watching her. Waiting.

"Who's Gemmell?" she asked.

"Oh. One of the Dover officers, a DI. Nice guy."

That was the old Liam, she figured. Making friends everywhere. She looked up at the clock again. The second hand ticked another minute around. After 4 p.m. With every tick and every breath, she felt the killer's trail getting colder.

"I'm done waiting. Let's get in there." She started toward the door.

"Sally, we have to–" Liam began, but she was already in the corridor. Interview Room 1 was right there, and she pushed in.

"About bloody time," Gabriel Rook said as she entered. "It's not a champagne room at the peep show, love, is it?" He gestured to the one-way glass. "Sit yourself down and let's hammer this out like a pair of consenting adults, shall we?"

Sally pulled out her chair and looked at the lawyer. "I'd advise your client to restrain himself."

"My client's been waiting in this room for nearly an hour, Detective," he answered drily. "Some frustration is perfectly understandable."

"It's officer, not detective. I'm with the NCA."

"Of course you are," he said smoothly.

The door opened and Liam came in, carrying two coffees.

"Tea boy, finally," Rook said. "Pop an extra sugar in hers, mate, and there's a quid in it for you. Icy lass like her needs sweetening up."

Sally pierced him with a look. "Then it should be hotter, shouldn't it, Mr. Rook? Not sweeter."

He laughed and leaned back, one arm across the back of his chair. "I'm not bothered, am I? Sweeter, hotter. Any hole's a goal, you know what I mean?"

Liam frowned, put the coffees down and went to the camera on its tripod, already pointing at Rook. "Commencing interview." He hit the record button.

"Come get some," Rook said.

"NCA Officers Liam O'Connell and Sally Rogers," Liam began. "Interview one with Gabriel Rook, Rye police station, 4:13 p.m., his solicitor present." He looked to the man in the fine suit.

"Richard Carrack," he said.

"All very proper," Rook mocked.

Sally took a moment while Liam repeated the standard caution, letting the moment settle. Then she began.

"Peep show, you said. Is that the business you were running out of your farm, Umberside Lodge, with those five girls?"

"Women, get it right," Rook countered. "Not girls. They're all legal. At least, that's what their paperwork said."

Sally nodded. "We're looking into their paperwork. Now answer the question."

"The peep show question?" Rook took a languid moment, still reclined into his chair. "I suppose. Squalid name that though, isn't it? You have a lass do what our ladies do, for a painting or something, and they call it high art, put it in the National Gallery."

"Not a lot of high art made in fake taxi backseats though, is there?" Liam said.

Sally looked to him. That was good.