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“I believe so.”
“A large white van that had been seen around here and Bramfield, one that has a driver’s side brake light out?” pressed Reilly.
“I can’t recall the exact details.”
“Maybe you were having trouble with your memory, Mr Johnson,” said Gardener.
“How so?”
“You failed to let the officers know that you had a white van. It’s come to our attention that your van also has a brake light out. We’ve been around the back, Mr Johnson, and we see that your van has been reversed into the premises. Would you like to do us a favour and drive it out on to the street in front of the shop, so we can check the lights?”
Johnson almost seemed relieved. “Oh God, for one shitty minute there I thought you were going to say that someone had fingered my van in whatever’s going on over there. Christ, if that’s all it is, give us a minute to find the keys and I’ll be right with you.”
“Thank you,” said Gardener.
Johnson went into the back. Gardener could hear him rummaging in drawers.
“Took that a bit well, didn’t he?” asked Reilly. “Maybe he’s fixed it – thinks he can fool us.”
Johnson shouted he’d be through in one second, and that he had the keys.
Although Gardener heard him, he was glancing at something that had caught his attention on the floor, between the bench and the wall.
“Sean, will you give me a hand to move this bench?”
“What have you seen?”
Gardener pointed. “Is that a SIM card?”
“Looks like it,” said Reilly.
Both men managed to move into a position that was not perfect, but would do. They dragged the bench out, and Reilly retrieved the SIM card.
“Well, look what we have here.”
He passed it over to Gardener, whose skin prickled. It was a micro SIM card, and the serial number had been removed.
Gardener glanced towards the back of the shop. “Where the hell is he?”
Reilly didn’t wait. He cleared the shop in seconds, and Gardener could hear him stomping around in the back.
Without warning, an engine burst into life, and Gardener saw the white van screech around the corner of the shop and out on to the road. Graham Johnson was at the wheel.
“Sean, out here, now!”
As both men exited the shop, Gardener glanced in the direction the van was going, towards Harrogate. Graham Johnson was paying no attention to speed limits. By that time, Thornton and Anderson had joined them.
“What happened?” asked Thornton.
“I’m not sure, but let’s say Johnson’s just climbed the ladder of suspects. Frank, Bob, jump in your car and see if you can follow him. Whichever one of you is not driving, get on the phone and see if you can set up a series of roadblocks.”
Chapter Thirty-five
Gardener was late for the incident room meeting. He wasn’t happy, but his team was in good spirits. The ANACAPA chart was huge, with spider’s legs going in all directions, and Maurice Cragg had updated it with Graham Johnson’s name at the top of the tree.
Tea and coffee had been laid on, and Gardener grabbed a cup whilst the men sorted through their notes and took seats. It had been another long day, and though they’d had some encouraging results, there was still a lot of work ahead of them.
He stood at the front and addressed the team.
