As the interview came to an end, Charlotte and Bevan looked exhausted, whereas Jack still looked as fresh as a daisy and raring to go. Jack’s final question was whether Charlotte knew where the gang stayed during their regular, three-day recces. She shook her head.

‘What happens now?’ she asked, realising the interview was finally over. ‘I mean . . . can I see Annie, please? She’ll need to know . . . that I’m not coming home. I want to be the one who tells her.’

Jack didn’t immediately answer her question. ‘The annual equestrian event starts next week. That’ll be something De Voe won’t be able to resist. So, he’ll be contacting you shortly in order to do his three-day prep. Bevan will see if De Voe is in the system and, if he is, we’ll need a positive ID please . . .’ Jack paused before delivering his bombshell. ‘. . . then she’ll drive you home.’

Charlotte’s jaw nearly hit the table. As did Bevan’s, as she wondered on whose authority was he about to release their only connection to the leader of this elusive gang.

‘Charlotte, I need you out there, not in here, Jack continued. ‘I will keep you and Annie safe, but you must trust me. Do you trust me, Charlotte?’

The tears once again began to flow, quietly and softly this time. Charlotte nodded.

Jack sealed the deal with one final sentence that only he and Charlotte knew the meaning of. ‘Charlotte Miles, for three years you’ve been De Voe’s Judas Horse; now you’re mine.’

Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

Jack and Mason entered the squad room to find Lee had just arrived from Oxford and was itching for a full handover. ‘DI Mason and I will go through the details of his interview and then communicate the next course of action to the team,’ he announced.

During his drive from Oxford to Chipping Norton, he had coordinated a series of background checks on De Voe, but it turned out he was not in any system and did not have a criminal record. However, his name was now in capital letters right in the centre of the evidence board. Jack was horrified. ‘We can’t show our hand yet, sir.’

Lee shrugged. ‘We’ve got no IDs, no court-reliable witnesses, no prints, no DNA . . .’

Gifford chipped in. ‘Even the greasy fingerprint on the back of Barrowman’s office chair doesn’t belong to anyone in any system, here or internationally. They’re all clean, Eamonn.’

‘All we have is one scared woman who’s confessed to a burglary-gone-wrong from three years ago,’ Jack went on.