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him. And as for Gorley, she had no clue why he’d be dead, in a shed of all places.

While normal people would take this news about Bob as a copper disappearing in the usual sense, not Cassie’s kind, people on the Barrington would know otherwise. Sharon was surprised it had made the news if Cassie had owt to do with it; she usually had things hushed up. Was she something to do with torching Gorley?

Which copper had blabbed to the press? Who had the bottle? And why would Bob need to vanish, Gorley set fire to? Had they gone against Cassie and she’d found out? Had Bob spotted something at the meat factory and threatened to tell all?

Sharon gulped her drink down and, despite her earlier remonstrations about no longer wanting to get involved in the weird, cult-like Barrington lot, old habits died hard, and she got up, stuffed her arms into her coat, and marched to Brenda’s in her slippers. She knocked, her toes getting cold from the snow seeping between them, and wished she’d put her boots on. It had taken ages for her feet to thaw when she’d gone into Brenda’s this morning.

Brenda opened up, her hair done in a nice chignon wotsit, a tight black leather catsuit covering a slender body Sharon had always been envious of. Without even saying a word, Brenda moved aside. Weird. If she didn’t know what Sharon wanted, she usually always asked outright on the doorstep. Had she heard about Bob and Gorley, too?

Sharon entered and beelined straight for the kitchen. She sat in the chair she’d been in earlier and shuddered, Cassie’s ghost sitting opposite, staring at her. Sharon blinked the woman’s mirage away.

Brenda waltzed in and leant against the worktop, arms beneath her tits. “What’s the matter?” She’d said it kindly. Maybe she thought Sharon needed a shoulder, a cup of tea and a slice of cake now Karen was gone.

No Victoria sponge or PG Tips would fix this.

“Bob’s disappeared, and that Gorley copper’s been found burnt to death in his bloody shed.”

Brenda frowned, her mind cogs working. “Bob? Which one? I know a few of those.”

“Mr Plod.”

Eyes wide, Brenda swallowed and glanced at the wall clock. “Oh shit. How did you find out?”

“It was on the news. Bob was driving towards Worksop then vanished.”

“I thought you meant proper disappeared.” Brenda huffed out a laugh. “Maybe he’s decided to fuck off—his missus is a right rum one, he’s probably had enough. What do you care?”

“I was just curious, and maybe Cassie needs to be told.”

“Trying to remain in her good books, are you?”

Sharon’s face flamed. “Well, yes, but she did tell me I had to keep my ears open, didn’t she. If she disappeared Bob and Gorley, why the fuck is it on the telly? A police source gave information. Someone’s leaking shit out.”

She told Brenda the rest, hoping she asked her to stay for the afternoon so she didn’t have to go home and face the rest of the day without Karen, but with Brenda all dolled up, that wasn’t likely.

* * * *

Spooked by what Sharon had told her, and worried life on the Barrington was about to get hairy if people were dropping Cassie in the shit—if she’d had owt to do with Bob and Gorley—Brenda left the kitchen and went into the living room, shutting the door. She swiped her work burner up off the coffee table and phoned Cassie—fuck sending one of the coded messages. This could be classed as a life-or-death situation, couldn’t it? Or extremely dangerous anyroad.

It rang several times, then, “What’s the matter?” Cassie asked.

“Bob Holworth. DCI Gorley, that wanker bloke. It was on the news Bob’s disappeared and Gorley’s been torched.”

“What?” Cassie didn’t screech, just uttered that word in a dull tone. She was angry, that much was certain.

“Do you think someone’s doing it to make a claim on the patch? Like, they’re causing trouble to let you know they’re around, showing you what they can do? It can’t be Jason, given what you told me, unless he’s in on it with someone else and they’re doing stuff on his behalf.”

“Fucking hell, the last thing I need is another person challenging me. How did you find out about the pigs?”

“Sharon’s come round and told me; she’s still here and wanted me to pass it on to you.” Brenda was dying to ask if Cassie was involved but didn’t dare. “What shall I tell her?”

“That it’s nowt to do with me.”

Oh. So who’s going round after coppers then? “It mentioned Bob had been at your factory, and Joe told them there wasn’t a break-in or owt. Just so you know, like. Sorry to say this, but why didn’t Joe tell you? The police might go to your mam’s, sniffing, asking questions.”

“Fuck’s sake. Thanks for this. I’ll warn Mam.”

The line went dead, and Brenda had a strong feeling Cassie knew exactly where Bob was, despite saying she’d had no hand in it. The question was, why had Bob and Gorley been dealt with? Bob had been the patch policeman for bloody years, always looking the other way if things went pear-shaped, always fudging his reports so owt nefarious wasn’t documented. Never had he seemed to want to piss Lenny or Cassie off. And Gorley, though a lecherous wanker (he’d tried it on with Brenda once in The Donny, and she’d stamped on his foot with her high heel, reminding him he had a wife called Melinda), had steered clear of owt Barrington-related if he could help it, except with Jess, of course, and he couldn’t very well bow out of that. She’d long suspected he was in Lenny’s pay.

Two policemen, gone. Earlier, Cassie had said she hadn’t had any sleep. Had she just lied to Brenda, making out she was innocent in

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