Deadly Focus by R. C. Bridgestock Page A

sir.’
     
     

 
    Chapter Twelve
     
    Twenty minutes later Dylan and Dawn were at the Hinds’ home. Although it was a horrible thing for the family, from an inquiry point of view it was a positive one. The killer was giving them a chance to identify him. Trevor and Wendy were grey and their eyes were hooded and dark. Wendy was visibly shaking.
    ‘The card, the envelope, postmark, and stamp all will be forensically examined. It’s another opportunity to trace whoever’s responsible,’ Dylan said as he tried to reassure them. ‘Somebody, for some reason, wants to cause you more pain.’ Dylan only had to look into their faces to see how much they were hurting.
    ‘I want you to both think very hard. Have either of you upset or argued with anyone, no matter how slight or trivial you may think it was? Absolutely anyone? Someone out there wants to kick you when you’re down. We need to find out who and why.’
    ‘We’ve done nothing to anyone. We haven’t, honestly, have we, Trevor?’
    Trevor shook his head. ‘We don’t deserve this,’ he said, quietly.
     
    A short time later, as Dylan and Dawn wandered down the Hinds’ path back to the car, Dylan turned to a deflated Dawn. ‘Think positive. We have another chance to find some evidence. Let’s just hope forensic turns something up from the card. Mind you, we won’t get anything until after the Christmas holidays, which is a flaming nuisance.’
     
    Back at HQ, Dylan was informed that the Assistant Chief Constable would now not be available on the morning of the review. Whilst no explanation was given, his apologetic secretary told him that she would try to re-schedule the ACC’s January appointments, to meet at his earliest convenience. Dylan wondered what could be more important than a child’s murder. He had learnt his lesson in the past, cursing and swearing when someone had let him down only to find out later they had been involved in a serious road accident. Since then he had always bitten his tongue unless he was aware of the facts. If there was no good reason however, it was time to watch out and pin your ears back.
    Staffing levels over the Christmas period had been staggered to give everyone time with their families, although officers would continue working round the clock to find Daisy’s killer. Other agencies closed for seven days, therefore forensic inquiries and the like would remain static throughout. Dylan reassured the Hinds that none of them, including himself, would rest until Daisy’s killer was found. They would have on-call staff at all times and whilst Dylan planned to take Christmas Day off, he would still be contactable.
    It was hard to get into the Christmas spirit after the last few weeks and with nothing, not even a glimmer of hope, in the investigation into Daisy Charlotte Hind’s murder, Dylan was at an all time low. He was tired. He wasn’t sleeping properly, waking up at four in the morning and tossing and turning, wishing for morning. He hoped Christmas would re-charge his batteries.
    Dylan left the office. It was early, but he was useless to anyone in his current frame of mind, so he decided to have a drive to try to clear his head. Feeling irritable and needing to let off steam, he put the car in reverse, put his foot down, and sped out of the police yard. At the very last second he saw the van and braked suddenly.
    ‘Fucking hell,’ Dylan gasped, as the skid brought his car to an abrupt halt without the anticipated ‘bang’. The property clerk driving past the entrance to the gated yard had nearly been annihilated.
    ‘Sorry, mate,’ Dylan said as he wound down his window to apologise to Harold. ‘My fault entirely, my mind was elsewhere.’
    ‘It’s okay, Mr. Dylan. Don’t you worry yourself. No one’s hurt,’ said Harold. His voice quivered and his face was flushed. ‘You’re a lot busier than me. You … you go first, sir.’ He waved Dylan on and slumped against his steering wheel.
    Dylan’s heart