“I think so,” Banks said. “You know, she was about the same age as the Bradham Lane victim when it happened. And she was raped, too. In her case, by two men. She also lived to tell the tale. She went willingly to the hotel with Caxton, drank a glass or two of champagne, then things turned ugly. That’s what I mean. Maybe your victim got willingly into the van for the drugs, booze, music, party time, whatever, and then things turned nasty. There’s no evidence that she was abducted or anything like that.”

“Quite the opposite,” said Annie. “She was ejected. On the other hand, the three men could have abducted her from the street somewhere first. I just wish we knew more.”

“It’ll come,” said Banks. “Danny Caxton is a nasty piece of work, I can tell you that much.” He finished his pint. “Bugger it,” he said. “That went down well. I’m going to have another.”

“Drinking and driving?”

“I’ll get one of the PCs to drive me home.”

“Ooh, flexing our superintendent’s muscles, are we? Remember what I said about power?”

“Damn right. If you’ve got it, flaunt it. That’s what I say.”

He went inside to get himself another pint and an orange juice for Annie, who was at least willing to stick with him for a while longer, even if she wasn’t drinking. It was that time of evening when the place was almost deserted inside. Pat, the Australian barmaid, clearly had the night off, and Cyril had one of his playlists on: Marianne Faithfull singing “Summer Nights.” Very appropriate. Banks got the drinks and went back outside. The square was starting to fill up a bit now, young couples, families, some groups back from long walks, ready for the evening meal and a few pints. Other pubs had tables outside, and he could hear conversations and laughter from all sides. Music. It was Friday night. The weekend starts here.

Annie smiled when he handed her the drink. “I’ll give you a lift home,” she said. “How’s that for an offer?”

“Best I’ve had all day. But it’s out of your way.”

“That’s just the kind of person I am. Now, tell me about Danny Caxton. He seemed so nice on the telly. I mean, in an avuncular sort of way. I didn’t fancy him or anything.”

“Yeah, he’s everybody’s dirty uncle. He’s arrogant, foul-mouthed and he has no sense of remorse. It wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he’s raped dozens of young girls over his career.”

“Well, there’s an open mind for you.”

“Oh, I’ll keep an open mind, all right. And he’ll get a fair trial, if it ever comes to court. The odds are probably in his favor. It’s the other bloke that interests me at the moment.”

“What other bloke?”

“I told you there were two rapists. According to Linda, the other was a bit younger than Caxton, and Caxton seemed happy to share the spoils with him. I’d like to know why. And who he was, of course. And what’s happened to him.”