CHAPTER TWELVE
“It’s time to speak to our driver again, Duff,” Watters said. “He might be more cooperative after a couple of days locked up.”
“Yes, Sergeant.” Freshly off the night shift, Duff was tired, with the new growth of a beard on his chin making him appear even rougher than usual. “I’ll bring my baton.”
“You do that,” Watters said.
The turnscrew looked doubtful when Watters and Duff arrived at his domain. “I don’t approve of you bullyragging my prisoners,” he said.
“I don’t approve of men stealing children,” Duff replied and rattled his staff off the wall. “Has the driver been any more cooperative? Has he given his name yet?”
“No, but I don’t want you hurting him!” The turnscrew stood with his back to the driver’s cell door.
“Stand aside, please,” Watters said. “Constable Du
