“What are you thinking?”
“Thinking?” Bobby tapped the steering wheel as they drove. They’d slipped onto the M3 ten minutes ago, heading to Wiltshire. “Can’t you tell?”
“I can guess your feelings, even sense them, but thinking? I need you to enlighten me.”
“Well I’m deciding what I want to do to the bastards who have taken her.”
“I’m sure. But you’re also mauling something over.”
Funny how Sam could tell almost in much the same way as Chantelle could. “I wish we could drag Driffield in. Talk to him.”
“Atkins might. An unofficial talk.”
“Trouble is he won’t be able to hold him, doubtful even with a missing person’s report filed. He can ask him questions but…”
“Yeah.” Sam sounded resigned. “To do so would tip Driffield off and, if he’s involved with anyone else, which he must be, he’d
