by Adam Croft
Jack seemed to think about this for a moment, before shaking his head again, biting his lip.
‘Nah, I’m not buying it. Theo had answers. We know he did. When Elsie Fogg ended up dead, McCann and his gang knew they had to tidy up. They knew there was someone outside their circle, someone inside ours, who knew what had happened. Knew who was involved. There’s a reason CSI found nothing in his flat. If Theo Curwood was so heavily involved in all this to the point he’d left his name all over the reports, there’d be some sorts of traces in his own fucking flat. Something doesn’t sit right here, Knight. And don’t even think about giving me a bollocking about following the facts instead of my instincts.’
Wendy raised her hands in mock surrender. ‘I wasn’t going to.’
‘Good.’
The atmosphere was pierced by a knocking at the door.
‘Come in,’ Culverhouse growled.
The pair could see Debbie Weston looked visibly distressed.
‘Guv, I hate to do this to you, but I’m really not doing too well today.’
‘In what way?’
‘The news this morning. It’s kind of… hit me. Hard.’
Culverhouse narrowed his eyes. ‘Why? Did you know him?’
‘Well, no. No, of course not. But it still gets to you, doesn’t it? Thin blue line getting even thinner, and all that.’
‘Are you telling me you want to piss off home again? You’ve barely been back five minutes.’
‘I think I’d be far more use to you tomorrow if I have the rest of the day to get my head straight, yes.’
‘Sometimes I think you’d be far more use as a fucking hatstand, but there we go. Go on. Piss off then.’
‘I think you’re being a bit harsh on her,’ Wendy said once Debbie had left the office.’
‘It’s a good job I didn’t ask what you think, then.’
‘She’s been having a tough time of it recently. We’ve all got a duty to look after each other.’
‘No, we’ve got a duty to catch the bastards who’ve been ruining — and ending — people’s lives. That’s the only thing I care about. Speaking of which. I’m going to get Steve and Frank to do some door-to-door enquiries, see if we can find out if anyone saw someone going in or out of Theo’s flat yesterday or the day before. You and Ryan can get onto finding CCTV. There’ll be some at the flats, I’m sure of it. Contact the freeholder and the residents’ association and find out who’s in control of it.’
‘Whoa, hang on a second,’ Wendy said, her voice firm. ‘We can’t do any of that. That’s a Professional Standards investigation. We can’t touch it.’
‘No it’s not. Professional Standards were looking into Theo. He’s dead. The only person who’ll be looking into him is the pathologist.’
‘But if there’s wider-reaching corruption, that’s PS’s job. Not ours.’
Jack looked at her for a moment. ‘What do you mean wider-reaching corruption?’
‘What I mean is they need to determine whether or not it ended with Theo. They need to find out how he built those links, what information was passed back and how. And whether there are other links.’
Jack leaned forward, narrowing his eyes. ‘Are you trying to make out there are other coppers in McCann’s pocket?’
‘I’m just saying we can’t be too careful.’
‘Yes we fucking can. We spend our entire lives being too careful. That’s how bastards get away with stuff.’
‘I just think we should keep this between ourselves and Professional Standards. Neither of us would’ve thought in a million years Theo Curwood was corrupt. What’s to say we aren’t in for another surprise? We really need to be careful. We can’t go repeating what we know to anyone else.’
Jack Culverhouse’s face suddenly turned very dark. ‘You think we’ve got one on the team, don’t you,’ he said, more as a statement than a question.’
‘No! No, of course not. But they might repeat something to someone else, or leave some sort of trail with phone calls which tips another person off. Everything has to be kept tight. You know the procedure.’
‘My team are not corrupt.’
‘I know that.’
‘They’ve all worked with me for years. I know them better than their own fucking wives. I bet I’ve seen Steve’s cock in the bogs more time than his missus has, that’s for sure. Theo Curwood was a one-off. He was young and stupid. He had his head turned by money. It happens. He was the victim, not the culprit. McCann is the one we want. And I’m telling you now, it ends with him.’
Wendy knew it was best not to argue. Instead, she forced a smile and nodded.
33
Jack felt blessed to have some light relief that evening, in the form of the planned meal with Chrissie and Emily. They’d finally settled on an American-style diner three miles outside Mildenheath, at Emily’s request. His daughter had told him she’d get a friend to drop her off on the way back from the cinema, but — an hour after they’d arranged to meet — she still wasn’t there.
‘I’m so sorry about this,’ he said to Chrissie. ‘She’s a bloody nightmare sometimes.’
‘Still not answering her phone?’
‘Nope. Straight through to voicemail. She does this sometimes. I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t need to say anything. We’re having fun as it is. We can wait.’
Jack looked down at the plate of nachos in front of him, growing soggier by the second under the weight of salsa, guacamole and luminous orange cheese. He wasn’t a fan of American food at the best of times, and really didn’t see the point in paying to come out and eat a massive bowl of crisps — especially when someone had dumped the contents of a few Heinz jars on top of them.
‘Maybe it’s just a bit of a weird situation for her,’ Chrissie said.
Jack shook his head. ‘She told me it wasn’t. She said it sounded like a great idea, as long as she could choose where we ate.’
‘Well she’s obviously keen on the place, then. I can’t see her bailing at the last minute.’
‘I’m just so sorry.’
‘Honestly,’ Chrissie said, leaning across the table and placing her hand on Jack’s wrist. ‘Don’t be. There’s no need.’
Within a few minutes, the conversation had started to flow properly, with the acceptance that Emily wasn’t going to turn up.
‘Do you still see any of those colleagues?’ Jack asked, eliciting a small chuckle from Chrissie. ‘What? What did I say?’
‘Nothing. I just knew that’d been on your mind ever since I mentioned it.’
‘Only asking. I just wondered if you were doing the modern thing and seeing multiple people at the same time. Hedging your bets, or whatever it is.’
Chrissie smiled. ‘No. Only you.’
‘Good. Same here.’
‘Well that much was obvious,’ she replied, laughing.
Jack took his phone out of his pocket and checked the screen again. Still no texts from Emily. He looked up to see Chrissie’s mind had clearly moved on to something else. ‘What’s up?’ he asked.
‘Nothing.’
‘No, come on. I can see something is.’
‘Look, it’s not for me to intrude on the father-daughter relationship, and this probably isn’t the place to bring it up, but I’ve just had a couple of concerns recently, that’s all.’
‘About Emily?’
‘Yeah.’
‘But you said earlier it wasn’t a problem.’
‘It isn’t. We’re still having fun. But what I mean is, it’s not entirely out of character for her at the moment.’
Jack leaned forward. ‘What do you mean?’
Chrissie let out a small sigh. ‘She’s been late to school quite a bit recently. She’s seemed sort of… distant. I mean, she’s never been the highest-achieving pupil, even though she’s clearly a smart cookie, but she tried to pay attention. Over the last week or two she’s sort of drifted a bit. Doesn’t seem quite with it.’
Would he have spotted the change in her? Had he been perceptive enough? He supposed school teachers were trained to look out for these small, subtle changes, especially in kids Emily’s age. All of a sudden, something seemed very wrong. The mood changes, the unreliability. It all started to make sense.
‘Look, I’m sorry. I need to get back home. I’m spending too much time worrying. I need to see if she’s there.’
‘It’s fine,’ Chrissie said. ‘I understand.’
Jack smiled at her. She was always so calm and collected. He felt terrible letting her down.
‘I just need to check she’s alright.’
‘I get it. Don’t worry. You go.’
Jack took a twenty-pound note out of his wallet and put it on the table, before leaning over and giving Chrissie a kiss on the cheek.
‘That’s for the soggy crisps, by the way.’
‘The twenty-pound note or the kiss?’
‘Both.’
* * *
By the time he got home, his worry had turned to fury. How could Emily get involved with people like that? He realised her home life had been far from conventional, but she knew better than to get mixed up with drugs.
When he got in, he found Emily sitting on the sofa, watching a film.
‘What’s going on, Em?’ he said, talking to the back of her head.
‘I dunno, I came in halfway through.’
‘You know damn well what I mean. Why didn’t you meet us at the restaurant? It was your idea.’
‘No, it was your idea. I just said I’d prefer to eat there than that shitty Italian place.’
‘So why not turn up?’ he asked, choosing to ignore the slight slur in her voice. He thought he’d also spotted a light sniffle, too. He hoped it wasn’t a sign of cocaine use.
‘Couldn’t get a lift.’
‘Did you not think to ring me or text me to let me know? We waited over an hour for you.’
‘Sorry. I turned my phone off in the cinema and forgot to turn it back on.’
‘But you knew you were meant to be meeting us, Em! We had it all arranged. You knew the place, you knew the time. Surely when you realised you couldn’t make it you would’ve switched your phone on and called me or texted me?’
Emily’s voice was weak. ‘I said sorry.’
Jack stepped forward to look at her, and in that moment he realised she was crying, but trying her hardest to make it look as if she wasn’t.
‘Em, what’s wrong? Talk to me.’
Emily stood up and darted towards the stairs. ‘Fuck off. Just fuck off, okay?’
He watched as his daughter ran up the stairs to her bedroom, wincing as the door slammed and the house shook.
34
If he wasn’t capable of doing much else as a father, he was sure as hell going to make sure he could rustle up Emily a decent cooked breakfast. He’d begun to notice things about her now — things he’d been blind to — like the fact she’d clearly lost some weight recently.
He watched the bacon sizzling in the pan, wondering if he should chuck in another knob of butter to add a few extra calories.
‘Where’d you get that from?’ Emily asked — more or less the first words she’d said to her dad all morning.
‘Supermarket. Why?’
‘It smells weird.’
Jack hovered his nose over the pan. ‘Seems fine to me.’ His attention was taken away by a text message pinging through on his phone. He picked it up and saw it was from Chrissie. He couldn’t read the full message without unlocking the screen, but could see the first few words and that she was apologising for the previous evening. He didn’t need her apologies. ‘How’s everything going at school?’ he asked Emily, serving up the food.
‘Fine.’
‘Getting on alright with everyone?’
‘Yeah fine.’
He put her plate down on the table in front of her — a gesture which was greeted by Emily staring at it.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘The egg’s runny.’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘You love runny eggs.’
‘I used to.’
‘Alright, well give it here. I’ll pop it back in the pan.’
‘No, don’t worry. I’ll just leave it.’
Jack thought about arguing back, but decided against it. It rarely did any good to argue with Emily, especially when she was in one of these moods.
‘What have you got today, then?’ he asked her, having eaten most of their meal in silence.
‘Dunno, not checked. History I think.’
‘Do you enjoy it?’
‘Spose.’
‘Used to be one of my favourite subjects, that.’
‘What, back when they called it Current Affairs?’
For the first time that morning, Jack smiled. ‘Yeah. Something like that. Listen, do you want a lift in today? I’m on a late start and I’ve got to run a couple of errands before I go into the office, so it’ll save you getting the bus.’
‘Nah, it’s cool. I quite like the bus journey.’
‘Alright. Suit yourself,’ Jack said. The last time he’d had to get on a local bus he’d got off certain he needed a double hip replacement.
A minute or so later, Emily got up from the table without saying anything and went back upstairs.
Something wasn’t right. Something definitely wasn’t right. And he needed answers.
He pottered about the house while he waited for Emily to get dressed for school, making a show of cleaning things that didn’t really need cleaning. Twenty minutes later, she came downstairs and shouted a passing goodbye as she let herself out and closed the door behind her. Jack watched as she walked up the driveway to the road and turned left towards the bus stop. In that moment, he felt a sudden pang of urgency and his instincts kicked in. He grabbed his coat and keys, put on a pair of shoes and closed the front door behind him, pulling his coat closed against the cold.
He walked up to the end of the driveway and peered around the conifers, waiting for Emily to round the corner at the end of the road. Once she had, he walked quickly after her until he’d reached the end of the street himself. From there, he could see across the low-walled front gardens to the bus stop from which Emily caught the bus to school. He could see Emily, but she was standing at the bus stop on the other side of the road.
Jack knew any buses stopping there would be going in the opposite direction from the school. He waited for a minute or so, unsure what to do next. He couldn’t approach her, or he’d end up pushing her away. All he could do was watch.
As he realised that, he was jolted to alertness by the sound of a loud diesel bus roaring past him and coming to a stop further down the road, right next to where Emily was waiting.
He peered carefully through the dusty windows and from that distance could just about make out Emily getting onto the bus. In any other situation, Emily’s behaviour could hardly be considered out of character.
But it wasn’t her getting on the wrong bus and heading away from the school that concerned Jack. It was what was showing on the destination sign.
35
Jack jogged back up the road towards the house and went inside to grab his car keys.
He knew the rough route the bus took, and he also knew he could get to the destination quicker than it could — and on a parallel route which would mean Emily wouldn’t spot his car.
He unlocked the car and got in, started up the engine and pulled out onto the street.
A million thoughts were racing through his mind. There was always the possibility that her destination wasn’t the same as that of the bus — that she could conceivably get off at any stop along the way — but Jack had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach which told him that was not the case. Intuition rarely let
him down.
Almost ten minutes later, he’d arrived. He pulled over at the side of the road a little further down, and waited for the bus to round the corner. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and Googled the timetable. The bus was due to arrive in less than two minutes.
Jack had taken a slightly quicker and more direct route, but they would have made up some lost time in the bus lanes along the main road. With only two minutes to spare, there can barely have been another stop or two between Jack’s house and here. That made him even surer that the bus’s destination was to be Emily’s, too.
He watched a bus enter the drop-off point. It was green and had come from the opposite direction, but this was clearly where the local buses did their drop-offs.
He thought of all the reasons why Emily might be coming here. Some of them were entirely innocent, but his brain automatically focused on those which were not.
He realised he’d been daydreaming and hadn’t been watching the time. Before he could glance at the clock, he registered a red bus rounding the corner and indicating into the bus drop-off area. He could see Emily on board, her head leaning against the window, her long hair mopping up condensation as the bus lulled and bounced over the threshold to its destination.
Jack climbed out of the car to get a better view, and watched as Emily got off the bus and embraced Ethan Turner.
He could feel the anger rising inside him as he watched this. Ethan was a criminal from a family of criminals, and Jack had warned him a couple of years ago — in no uncertain terms — that he was not to contact Emily or set foot within a hundred yards of her. It took every ounce of willpower not to walk straight over and punch him square in the face.
But it wasn’t just willpower that was stopping him. It was the realisation of what was happening. It was a series of jigsaw pieces falling into place, revealing the whole picture. How could he have been so stupid? Why didn’t he see it earlier?
