Chapter Forty-Six
Trent Mitchell sat in the interview room. He was dressed in blue jeans and a light blue sweater. His head was shaved. His beard neatly trimmed. He didn’t look much like the man in the image taken from the 284 bus or the person in the photograph on his driver’s licence to Carl, except for the piercing blue eyes.
Next to Mitchell sat Anne Hilton, the duty lawyer, who was there to protect his rights.
‘You’ve been a hard man to find, Mr Mitchell,’ said Carl. ‘Where have you been since you left the house in Harvey Street?’
‘Around,’ said Trent.
‘Can you be a little more precise?’ said Carl.
‘Not really,’ said Trent.
‘Why did you leave your job?’ said Carl.
‘Needed a holiday,’ said Trent.
‘Any reason why you turned your mobile phone off?’ said Carl.
‘A man’s entitled
