Night Vision by Jane A. Adams Read Free Book Online

another pot of tea, he took his plate and went for seconds.
    By ten they were at the prison where Neil Robinson had died. They had rendezvoused with Munroe and Parks back at the old police station. Eddison had not been there. He had a meeting, Parks said and suggested Alec went to the prison in his car and that Munroe could give Travers directions and travel in his.
    Travers, who had barely spoken on the short drive over, had not looked happy.
    â€˜Have you worked with DS Munroe for long?’ Alec had asked. Parks’ car had surprised him. A small blue hatchback with a child seat in the back and a scatter of toys in the footwell. Parks saw him examining the debris and laughed. ‘It’s the wife’s car,’ he said. ‘She’s taken mine for a few days, gone with the kids and a friend and all the camping gear.’
    â€˜Didn’t she need the child seat?’ Alec asked innocently.
    Parks turned his pale eyes on Alec and then laughed. The oddly cherubic mouth didn’t seem designed for laughter, Alec thought. It was far too prissy and tight.
    â€˜We’ve got a seat in both cars for Nan. Nancy, that is. Luke is big enough to use a booster seat now.’
    â€˜How old are they?’
    â€˜Three and eight. You have kids?’
    â€˜No, not yet.’ Both fell silent for a while, then Alec asked again, ‘So you work regularly with Munroe and Eddison?’
    Parks shrugged. ‘Eddison, yes. Been my boss for five, nearly six years, since I got the transfer here from London. We wanted a better place to bring up the kids, somewhere with a big garden, and Phil’s parents are here so – Philippa,’ he added. ‘She hates her name.’
    â€˜And Munroe?’
    â€˜Never met him until three days ago,’ Parks said in a tone that told Alec he wasn’t going to get any more than that.
    The prison, Heathfields, was true to its type. A so-called open prison, though this, like most, did have high fences topped with razor wire along the perimeter. It enclosed a large area of grass and trees, and Alec glimpsed vegetable gardens. The gatehouse was little more than a wooden hut, and the barrier – flimsy and already up when they arrived – seemed totally at odds with the high fence and twisted wire that cordoned off the grounds. Alec had visited many such establishments in his time. Many of the prisoners here were close to release, Parks had told him. Many after serving very long sentences. Heathfields housed a number that were on day or community release programmes. The prison had a good relationship with the local farmers and growers, Parks said. They often gave inmates close to their release a taste of work and a reintroduction to the wider community before they were finally thrown back on to their own resources. It was considered a model prison in many ways, with an inspiration governor, Michelle Sanders, who, from his tone when he spoke of her, Parks actually seemed to admire – a rare attitude from a serving officer, in Alec’s experience.
    They were shown to Robinson’s room in one of the accommodation blocks furthest from the gate. The view from the window was of grass and trees, and the room was basic but comfortable. He had stayed in worse hotels, Alec reflected. Establishments like Heathfields had come in for a lot of flak in the media of late, their so-called liberal regimes attracting censure. Alec was more measured in his attitude. He had seen too many men and women released straight from Category A or B prisons with little preparation or concern or support, and far too many had been back there within the year. In Alec’s view, if places like Heathfields dropped the recidivism rate, he was all for them.
    Usually, however, he kept such views to himself.
    â€˜The room’s not been touched,’ they were told by the prison officer who’d taken them there. ‘But we really could do with it being released as soon as.