DI Mitchell Yorkshire Crime Thrillers: Book 1-3

by Oliver Davies

  The bouncer took us through to a back room, where a couple of staff were taking a breather. They looked surprised to see us, but just nodded to the bouncer. My ears were ringing, and my head throbbed, but I pushed it away and focused on Abby.

  “Okay, I need you to tell me exactly what happened,” I said. At least in here, I could actually hear myself talk.

  She nodded, fidgeting nervously. One of her friends took her hand and squeezed it.

  “I went to the loos,” she said after a minute. “And this guy tried to grab me. I was just really s-startled,” she continued, almost defensively, “so when he pulled me away, I didn’t really struggle, you know?”

  I nodded, frowning.

  “But he was trying to drag me out the side door.” She choked up and rubbed her fingers under her eyes, where her eye make-up had already run. “And Becky saw me trying to make him l-let go.” She looked over at the friend who was holding her hand, and I assumed she was Becky. “And when she came over, he let go of m-me and ran away.”

  She held out her arm, and I winced at the livid red mark on her upper arm, which was already slightly swollen and would likely bruise all the colours of the rainbow by tomorrow.

  “I’m glad you’re okay,” I said, my stomach turning over at the thought of how this could’ve ended up. “What did he look like?”

  I was almost hoping that this guy would turn out to be a garden-variety creep, because the fact that we had Will in remand meant that it really couldn’t have been him. But if it turned out that I’d been wrong and Will wasn’t the killer, as long as we caught the murderer, my pride would get over it. The most important thing was the students’ safety.

  “H-he was skinny, and with really scruffy hair, like he hadn’t brushed it in a week, you know?”

  That description tripped a wire in my head, but I couldn’t quite place why it sounded familiar.

  “His age? Anything else?”

  “About my age?” Abby said hesitantly, and Becky nodded.

  I looked at Becky, remembering that she must have seen this man, too, and she would hopefully have been less panicked at the time than Abby had been. “What did you notice?”

  She chewed her lip and her brow buckled as she thought. “His hair looked a pale kind of brown,” she decided. “And he had a narrow face, weaselly, right?”

  “Okay,” I said. “Which side door was it? Can you show me?” Becky nodded. I turned to the bouncer. “What CCTV do you have?” Maybe the cameras will have caught this guy as he sprinted off.

  “Just out front,” he said. “Maybe we caught him when he came in?” The expression on his face had softened from annoyance at my presence into something more amenable. Presumably, Abby’s story of nearly getting kidnapped had affected him.

  I nodded. “Yeah, we’ll need to see that. There’ll be more police turning up soon.”

  He grimaced briefly before nodding, tapping an earpiece he was wearing. “I need to tell my boss, and the boys out front.”

  “Go ahead.”

  He turned away, finger pressed to the device in his ear, and I heard him filling them in on the situation.

  “How about you two sit down for a minute?” I said to Abby and her friend, and indicated to the soft chairs at the side of the room. “Are you cold?” Becky had a jacket on, but Abby was only wearing a sleeveless black dress.

  She nodded, so I pulled off my coat, and then my jacket underneath it. I’d wrapped up warm in case I’d have to spend any significant amount of time outside. I’d been caught out more than once as a junior officer and left with ice blocks for feet.

  Handing Abby my fleecy jacket, I pulled my coat back on and took my radio off my belt. The bouncer interrupted me before I could radio for an update on the ETA for the officers.

  “Hey, mate,” he said, catching my attention. “The lad on the door says there’s a guy outside matching your description. He’s been loitering for a while.”

  I swore, fumbling to grab my radio. “Can we come at him from the side?” I asked the bouncer. He nodded, and I gestured for him to lead the way. Then I looked at Abby and Becky. “I’ll be right back, okay? Sit tight.”

  I hurried after the bouncer, he took me out of a side door, and I quickly radioed out to any nearby units, telling them not to approach from the front. I badly didn’t want this guy to bolt off when my lot came rushing in with sirens flashing. The only reason I hadn’t scared him off when I arrived was that I was in plainclothes and driving an unmarked car. It was a stroke of luck that he must not have heard me announcing my name and rank to the bouncer at the door.

  The bouncer put up a hand to stop me as we rounded the side of the building. We’d cut through the beer garden, where numerous club patrons had gathered to smoke and cool down in the icy air, and the bouncer had led the way down a narrow path towards the front of the building.

  “Can you see him?” I asked, as we paused. There was a queue of club goers, waiting to have their IDs checked, between us and the other side of the club entrance.

  The bouncer stood up straighter, giving him a good few inches on me. He glanced back at me. “Yeah, grey hoodie, over by the wall.” He abruptly held out a hand to me, and it took a moment before I reached out to shake it. “Sorry ‘bout earlier. I’m Dion. I’ll have your back with this guy. No way are girls getting grabbed on my watch.”

  “Appreciate that,” I said warmly. “No heroics, though, okay? This is what I’m trained for.”

  The bouncer, Dion, raised his eyebrows before he turned back to the front and led the way forwards. As a police officer, I ought to have been in front, but since Dion had eyes on this guy and I hadn’t seen him yet, I didn’t protest. He didn’t push his way through the crowd this time, which would have created too much of a commotion, but cut around the back, with me in tow.

  I spotted the narrow-faced man in the grey hoodie at the exact same time as he saw Dion and I heading right for him, and his eyes went wide.

  “I know him!” I blurted.

  “Who-?” Dion started to ask, but the guy bolted before I could answer, and I lurched into motion after him. He was damn fast, and I was out of practice, but all my pent-up energy pushed me forwards. I skidded over the cobblestone streets after him.

  It was Cal, the bird-watcher guy who Stephen and I had gone to interview. Dammit, I hadn’t pegged him for a killer or even suspected it when we’d spoken to him, yet here he was, caught nearly red-handed trying to grab Abby away from her friends.

  “Stop!” I yelled, knowing that he wasn’t going to. “Police!”

  I dashed around a corner, only to skid to a stop when I couldn’t see him anywhere. There, a side alley. I saw movement down in the shadows and jogged cautiously forwards, my heart pounding from the running. This felt far too much like how I’d been ambushed last time, and I dug out my phone to flick on my torch. I refused to be caught unawares again.

  The light illuminated the alley, and I turned in a circle, wary of Cal jumping me from behind. As I turned back to the front, I saw a shadowy figure dart forwards. His owlish eyes met mine for half a second before he turned and ran again and I sprinted after him, the light from my phone bouncing around the almost deserted streets of York. Strange how different the city looked in the dark, I thought as my breathing rasped in my chest. My head was throbbing, and I hoped to hell that all this running wouldn’t make it start bleeding again.

  Despite my week and a half off, I was gaining on Cal. He was slim, wiry and fast, but I didn’t think he was a practised runner, and he didn’t have my stamina. The narrow street we’d been racing along spilt out on a main street, wide and open and paved with sturdy stone slabs rather than the tricksy, slippery cobbles that threatened to trip you up with every step.

  With my boots gripping the stone firmly, I drove myself forward, feeling that ecstatic buzz of running at its height, when I was fully into the zone but hadn’t yet grown tired.

  Cal was flagging, and I was almost within touching distance when he swerved
suddenly. I struggled to turn as quickly, my momentum pulling me forwards, but he’d misjudged. His foot hit the wet metal of a drain grate, his leg swept out from under him, and he tumbled to the ground with a high-pitched yelp like a kicked dog.

  Coming to a stop as fast as I could, I all but threw myself down beside him to pin him down, only just avoiding the remains of a broken glass bottle caught in the drain’s metal bars.

  “No!” Cal yelled at me and tried to kick me in the stomach. “It’s not my fault! It’s not my fault!” Despite his breathlessness, he managed to scream loudly enough to startle me.

  I tried to grab his arms to pin him down, but it was like trying to get hold of an oiled snake. “Cal!” I snapped. “You’re not helping yourself!”

  Cal swore at me, shoving a knee against my chest hard enough that I was knocked backwards, barely avoiding hitting the back of my head on the stone.

  “I didn’t do it! I didn’t!” he was still shouting at me as I tried to grab him and stop him from bolting again.

  “Cal, stop!”

  He didn’t listen, seeming to be all but lost in panic and when he threw a punch at my face, I couldn’t move backwards fast enough to avoid it. Reeling backwards, I caught myself on the hard ground and hissed as something sharp cut into my palm.

  “You’re gonna lock me up,” Cal said, his voice back to a normal volume and still rasping with his quickened breathing. I’d been knocked back by his punch, and it didn’t take much for him to shove me onto my back, his knee on my chest.

  “Cal!” I gasped, the breath shoved out of me. “What’re you doing?”

  “Shut up!” he said. His hand was hot and damp when he pressed it over my mouth, blocking my nose. “Shut up! Why couldn’t you just leave it alone? I don’t deserve to go to jail, okay?”

  I couldn’t breathe and clumsily struck out at his head, but he caught my hand and pressed down harder on my mouth, inadvertently shoving the still-tender back of my head into the hard stone paving slab.

  My vision went white, and I was clawing at Cal’s arms, trying to get him to let me breathe, but my head was too full of pain to think.

  I blurrily saw Cal’s head jerk up, and the distant sound of voices, and the pressure pushing my head into the ground eased up.

  Think, I ordered myself, think!

  My free hand scrabbled on the ground off to my left, searching for anything. The metal grate was icy under my searching fingers, which were starting to feel numb. My vision was swimming, but when I felt something smooth, I still had enough awareness to realise what I had to do.

  Holding the small piece of glass tight enough that it cut into my skin, I brought my arm up and towards Cal as hard as I could. I’d been aiming for his ribs but managed to hit his shoulder. My thick head hadn’t realised that the glass wouldn’t make it far through Cal’s winter coat, but the shock of my hit was enough to make Cal flinch backwards, and I re evaluated and hit out again.

  My aim was still off as I struggled to control my movements, so the glass ended up scratching deep into his wrist, rather than his hand, which was where I’d been aiming for.

  I heard his shriek of alarm even over the ringing in my ears, and he fell backwards, clutching his bloody wrist. I gasped in a deep, desperate lungful of sweet air and coughed. The glass shard was still in my hand, and I’d only given him a bad scratch. Still, the sight of his blood had scared him, and he was trying to get his feet under him to run off again. I tried to will myself to get up to go after him, but I was still gasping, my chest heaving, and I was shaky enough that I didn’t think my feet would carry me further than a couple of meters.

  The ringing in my ears had lessened, and my head jerked up as I heard shouts calling my name. Cal shot me a panicked look, before turning to stumble away just as a number of officers ran into the street.

  “Here,” I said, but couldn’t get enough breath to make my voice louder than a croak, so I waved my arm instead.

  “DCI Mitchell!” A young constable came running over, looking horrified to see me on the ground, my hand covered in blood, and I could only imagine what kind of expression was on my face.

  I threw out a hand towards the street Cal had disappeared down.

  “He went down there?” the officer checked, and I nodded, only to wince at the awful pain at the back of my head. I wondered if it had hurt this bad when I first did it, because right now it felt even worse.

  With my confirmation, the constable stood up and jogged over to the street while calling out to the other officers. Relieved that the onerous for catching the guy was no longer on me, I cradled my bloody hand to my chest and let my breathing settle back to normal.

  A couple of officers, the ones who hadn’t run off after Cal, came over to me and crouched down. I reached hesitantly behind my head and was pleasantly surprised to find no blood on my fingers. I’d bashed it badly, and it’d probably swell up again, but at least the stitches hadn’t gotten torn in the fight.

  My hand, on the other hand, probably needed stitches, judging from the raw gash the glass I’d grabbed had left in the meaty part of my thumb. The officers carefully helped me to my feet, where I swayed briefly before getting my balance.

  They supported me back to where they’d parked fairly close by, and I gratefully lowered myself inside. I drifted off on the way to the hospital, but when the constable in the passenger seat turned around to look at me, I blinked myself back to focus.

  “They got him, thanks to you holding him up,” she told me, grinning.

  I summoned a smile. “Thank God.”

  The night had gone wrong in almost every way, but at least it had turned out well.

  Nineteen

  A different doctor treated me at A&E and tutted over the swelling on my head, and the gash in my hand, like I’d been intentionally careless. But I was too tired to mind overly much. After the scuffle with Cal and the long wait at A&E, I didn’t get to bed before nearly four in the morning and fell asleep immediately.

  Waking up to my phone buzzing incessantly, I groaned and struggled to pull it out of the pocket of the jeans that I’d never taken off. My hand smarted badly, and my head was worse, my phone’s vibrating already giving me a headache.

  “Mitchell,” I said gruffly. My face felt strange, puffy and tight, and I winced when I touched the skin beneath my right eye. Cal’s punch, I remembered. So I had a black eye too, great.

  “You are alive, then.” Stephen’s voice was heavy and flat.

  I wasn’t awake enough to figure out his tone. “How’s your kid?” I asked.

  Stephen sighed. “She’s okay. The doctor came out to see her and her temperature went down about six this morning.”

  “So you were up all night too.”

  “Yeah.”

  I checked my watch and winced to see that it was one in the afternoon. “You think that Gaskell will forgive me for sleeping in?”

  “Probably,” Stephen said. “You’re his favourite.” He was trying to be his usual, teasing self but I could hear how tired he was.

  I snorted. “Hardly.” We lapsed into silence for a long minute.

  “Gaskell texted to tell me to take the day off,” he told me. “I expect you’ll have the same. So, see you tomorrow?”

  “Sure. Get some more sleep.”

  “You too, Mitchell.”

  I hung up and sighed as I leaned back against my pillow. Gaskell had sent a number of texts, the last one telling me that if I still wasn’t awake, I should just take the day off. That’d been several hours ago. I sent him off a message to let him know I was okay before dragging my sorry, aching body out of bed.

  Much as I wanted to get back stuck in, I was sore all over with various bruises I didn’t even remember getting, and any sudden movements made my head ache something fierce, so I spent the day on the sofa.

  By the following day, although my head was still swollen, I was eager to get to the bottom of this damned case and got myself down to the station at the usual time.
/>   I found Stephen in the break room, making himself tea. He looked rough, even after the day off, and I frowned at him.

  “You alright?”

  He gave me a weak smile. “Yeah. My kid’s doing better, finally. Scared the hell out of us, I can’t tell you. Don’t have kids, Darren, they’ll turn you grey.”

  I patted him on the shoulder. “I’m glad she’s on the mend.”

  Stephen looked over my face and winced at the black eye I was sporting. It’d turned an impressive greenish-purple overnight, and I looked like a boxer who’d lost a few rounds.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  I waved it off. “Fine. Looks worse than it is.” He sent me an unconvinced look but didn’t press as I settled into making myself some potent coffee and sipped at it as Stephen and I ambled back to our desk.

  I’d barely gotten a few mouthfuls of coffee before Gaskell appeared at the door of his office and waved us over. He looked faintly irritable, but that was his usual expression, and I didn’t take it to mean much.

  “Glad you’re back at it,” he said, looking between the sorry pair of us. “You both need a long week off, but we can’t afford it right now.” He sat down behind his desk as we settled into the seats opposite. He handed over a bundle of papers to both of us.

  “We’ve had some small progress while you were out of action,” he said as I flicked through the paperwork.

  My eyes widened. “Cal’s-”

  Gaskell nodded. “His fingerprints matched the one on the student’s windowsill.”

  Stephen swore quietly. “Does this mean Will-?” he started.

  Gaskell pulled a face and cut him off too. “We’re not ruling him out yet, but, honestly, the evidence is pointing to this Cal Melville.”

  “And we’re holding him, sir?”

  Gaskell nodded. “Even without the fingerprint match, his attack on you would mean we could keep him for now, even though his record’s clean.” I made a noise of acknowledgement. “We’ll need your statement on that,” he added.

  They’d taken pictures of my injuries at the hospital, including the bruise on my face which had grown much more impressive since, but I’d barely been able to keep my eyes open after that, let alone give a coherent statement.