A younger officer I vaguely knew came in as the kettle was boiling, and I gave her a smile. Hewford was much bigger than the country station where I’d worked previously, Lockdale, but I knew most of the faces around here by now, if not their names.
“Mind if I steal some of that, sir?” she asked, nodding to the kettle once it had finished boiling.
“Go right ahead,” I said as I tried to recall her name. “It’s PC Tovar, right?”
“Libby Tovar, that’s me.”
She poured her cup of tea and turned to face me, leaning her hip against the counter whilst I finished off making mine and Stephen’s coffees. He usually took tea, and I made sure to put a generous splash of milk in his much weaker coffee.
“Blimey, that looks strong enough to stand a spoon in, sir,” Tovar noted, raising her eyebrows at my coffee. I gave a slightly sheepish smile.
“Aye, I think I use a tad bit more coffee than the average.”
“Just a bit,” she agreed with a laugh.
Then she looked down at her cup of tea, and something shifted in her expression, becoming pensive, or troubled even. I’d been about to head out, take the two steaming mugs over to mine and Stephen’s desks, but I hesitated.
“Having a long day?” I asked. I didn’t want to be nosy, but I also didn’t want to leave her alone if she needed someone to have a chat with.
“Oh, yeah, you could say that, sir.” Her smile looked a bit tight, and I set the mugs back down on the counter.
“Did something happen?”
“No, not really. I’m just a bleeding heart, that’s all. And it’s different when it’s about animals, somehow. They’re innocents, aren’t they?”
“There was an animal cruelty incident?” I asked gently, wincing.
I’d gone out to a few of those in my time, and it was always awful to see what humans were capable of doing to harm animals, both wild and domesticated. It was enough to raise the gorge of anyone with a pair of eyes and a conscience.
“Actually, not exactly, but I can imagine what might happen.”
“Not always the best trait in an officer,” I said dryly. “Imagination, I mean. I have the same problem.”
“Oh, I know.” She gave a slight smile before sighing. “It’s probably small fry to you, I’m sure, sir, but a dog’s gone missing, and it’s all a bit strange.”
“The dog’s run off?” I asked, not quite sure why this was bothering her in particular.
It was an unfortunate fact that pets went missing often in a big city, and oftentimes they didn’t get happy endings. It made me think that people who argued for indoor cats had a point.
“No, the owner was looking to give it away free, sir. She listed a Gumtree advert, but she changed her mind after handing the dog over.”
“I thought you said it’d gone missing?”
“That’s the thing. She went back to ask nicely for her dog back after all, but the guy at the house says they never took a dog and that they don’t know what she’s on about.”
“That is odd. Do you think they did something bad to it?”
“Could have, sir,” she said before giving a sigh. “Sorry to bother you with it. I just wished I knew what had happened to the poor thing.”
“It’s a common thing with us cops, being unable to accept a lack of answers,” I agreed. “You could see whether there was any messaging online between the dog owner and the people who took the dog. If there’s a record that they agreed to take the animal, it’d allow you to look into the case further.”
“That’s a good idea,” she said, sounding faintly surprised. “I asked her if she’d talked to them on the phone, but I didn’t think of asking if she’d messaged them on the advertising site. Thanks, sir.”
She strode off with her mug before I could respond, and I watched her go with a shake of my head. The younger officers were always rushing about the place with all this drive and ambition, and it always made me feel half-fond and half-exasperated. Sometimes I thought they’d do better to slow down and have a proper think, but I mostly envied their energy. Plus, Stephen would be the first to remind me that I was hardly one to take it slow and steady.
“You took a while.” Stephen gladly accepted the mug from me and took a sip of his coffee.
“Didn’t realise you were timing me,” I said wryly.
“Come on. I was gasping for a drink, Mitchell. Usually, you’re the one hungry for caffeine.” He shot me a grin. “I was about to come over there and see whether you’d fallen head-first into the coffee jar.”
“Nah.” I grinned back. “But I might consider it if we have to stay looking at these plans much longer. I’m falling asleep here.” I punctuated the sentence with a wide-mouthed yawn, and Stephen huffed a laugh.
“Not long now, then you can run off home. Literally.”
I shook my head at him, well aware that he thought me slightly mad for running to and from work each day, even though it was the end of January. To be fair, if it looked icy out, I’d take the car in, but the pavements were usually pretty well gritted here in the city. The air could be biting, but the rush of the run was enough to lure me out each frigid morning and get my feet on the tarmac.
For the last half-hour before we could head off home, Stephen and I got back to work. There were no big cases happening right now, just the day-to-day regularities of handling paperwork, supervising some of the other officers, and keeping the station running smoothly. Whilst things could be quieter over the winter, as the cold kept people from making a ruckus in the streets and in their gardens, money also got tight after Christmas, and that could drive up the rate of petty theft. Things sometimes kicked off, too, with domestic violence when couples were stuck in the house together, and the homeless shelter could get rowdy if there wasn’t enough to go round.
As a DCI, working on the ground wasn’t exactly my job, but that didn’t stop me from chipping in. I might be getting longer in the tooth than the baby-faced rookies, but I’d never wanted to be a paper-pusher day in and day out.
At five, I sat back with a sigh, and my chair gave a protesting groan.
“When d’you think we’ll be done with all this?” I said, more grumbling aloud than actually asking. It’d be a good few more days before we were done with the planning, however reluctant I was to get on with it. The superintendent, Arabella Rashford, had set us the task, so it’d have to be done one way or another.
“Not tonight, that’s for sure. Go on, go get your kicks running around like something’s chasing you.”
“That would make a change from me chasing after people,” I said with a grin.
Stephen was gathering up his things to head home, too, and he gave me an amused look. He’d drive back to his wife and their two kids, spending the evening wrangling the littluns into doing their homework and having their baths. Sometimes I envied him because there’d be no one in my dark flat to greet me when I got back tonight. I could video-call Sam, of course, and I probably would, but it wasn’t the same.
“Don’t go breaking your ankle on the ice, okay? No more hospital time,” Stephen said as we headed out of the office and down the stairs.
“Aye, I hear you,” I sighed.
I’d got myself into a few scrapes in the time I’d been at Hewford, some of them through what Stephen would call recklessness and what I’d call doing what needed to be done. A couple of times, though, I’d been plain unlucky.
I headed off out of the station’s car park, my legs feeling heavy and stiff despite the stretches I’d done in the station’s locker rooms. Stephen’s car drove past, and he tooted his horn. I gave him a wave without looking over, my attention focused on the pavement, though it was well-gritted.
It was already fully dark out at this time, and there was always a faintly illicit feeling that came with being out and about at night. No matter how much of my life I’d spent working strange hours or attending night-time call-outs, there remained a sense of being outside of things when I was out in the d
ark. Running by all the houses, flashes of light leaking out from around their drawn curtains, gave me a sense of freedom, like I was just a fox passing through the neighbourhood, with no permanent place to call home.
It was a romantic thought that I was free to just keep on running until the roads ran out, but I was nonetheless glad to arrive at my apartment when I did. I stumbled into the shower and barely paused in the kitchen to grab some leftovers before I flopped onto the sofa. I’d run myself pretty much to exhaustion, wanting to really stretch myself while the clear weather permitted. It wasn’t as if I had anyone waiting for me here anyway, and the dinner wouldn’t go cold if I was later than I’d planned because I was the one who had to make it. I sighed.
I chewed my way through the homemade pizza I’d made last night, which was the same recipe Sam and I had cooked together, but it hadn’t tasted as good this time. I called her once I was done with dinner, and she picked up after a brief wait.
“Hey, love,” she said, her phone wobbling in her hand before she put it down on the counter, hurrying around the kitchen. “I’m late for a work dinner. I’m sorry I can’t stay to chat for long.”
“No worries,” I said, my heart sinking a little.
Usually, she was busy working late, her new job keeping her even busier than Hewford’s had, so I’d been hopeful when she’d picked up that we could spend the evening together. But I knew she had more obligations now that she’d been promoted, and I didn’t hold it against her.
“Have you been to the gym?” she asked as she passed by, clearly noticing my wet hair.
“No, just running.”
“Be careful on the ice, won’t you?”
“Stephen’s already been telling me that,” I said, giving her a smile, though she was tidying her hair in front of the mirror and not looking at me.
“But you’re keeping up with the self-defence classes?” She turned towards the phone camera, coming over to pick up her purse from the counter.
“Aye, of course,” I assured her. “Don’t go motherhenning me. Stephen does that enough for the both of you.”
Sam smiled at me brightly, her face warm and open. She looked beautiful in the silvery dress she was wearing, her hair done up with jewelled pins, and I wished I was there with her.
“It’s our job to keep you out of trouble,” she teased.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I tossed back, giving her a smile. I was about to ask her about her day, but she glanced at her watch, and I gave a small sigh. “You better go, love. Don’t want you to be late.”
“I think I already am.” She sent me an apologetic look and blew me a kiss before ending the call with a promise that we’d talk tomorrow.
Hopefully, we’d be able to, but I knew that either of us could have something come up at work and interfere with our plans. It had been easier when we’d been living together to carve out a fraction of time each day to spend together, even if it was nothing more than brushing our teeth side-by-side, and I missed the casual companionship. Still, what time we got in each other’s company always reminded me why she was worth it, and I had no intention of ruining the relationship we’d built just because things had become more difficult. As long as she was happy and willing to keep working to keep our spark alive, I’d be right alongside her.
The following day brought the same Northerly winds and cold, blue sky as the day before, though it was still completely dark when I left the apartment. I’d woken around five, and antsiness had driven me out of bed and into my gym kit. Before Sam, I’d never been one for working out indoors, preferring the great outdoors and a stiff breeze to the sweaty confines of a gym, but she’d won me round. There were advantages to a heated gym when it was the heart of winter, and it gave my legs and knees a good rest to try out the different machines there rather than getting all of my exercise from running alone.
The place was fairly quiet when I headed in, having only just opened its doors, and the sleepy-looking guy on the desk gave me a nod of recognition. I didn’t have too long before I’d need to jog over to work, so I focused on getting some high-intensity reps in. A bloke by the window needed a spotter for his weights, and I helped him out in the last few minutes before I was due to head out.
“I better go,” I told him apologetically.
“Thanks for the help.” He gave me a nod and a slap on the back.
Outside the gym, the cold was an icy shock, and I paused to tug up the zip on my jacket. As I was standing in the doorway, I noticed the homeless man sitting down by the wall, partially covered by the awning over the gym’s front entrance. I’d seen him before, but not for a while, and he was swaddled up tight in a sleeping bag and thick coat. He’d need them if he was sitting out here in the cold wind, I thought, frowning slightly.
The bloke noticed me looking over and perked up. He looked about my age, I thought, though his face was weathered and tired.
“Got any spare change?” he asked.
I didn’t carry much on me when I was running into work, but I had my wallet in an inner pocket, and I fished it out, coming over to him. He usually had a blockish-headed dog with him, some kind of Staffordshire Bull Terrier, I thought.
“No dog today?” I asked, my mouth running ahead of my thoughts. Only after I said it did I consider that the dog might be missing because it’d become sick or died.
“Nah,” he said, accepting the fiver I offered him with a nod. “She got lost. Have you seen her?”
I shook my head, touched by the worry in his tone but unable to help. He held up a hand and asked me to wait a minute before proceeding to pull out a folded piece of paper, which had a grainy picture of his dog on it. I obligingly took a good look at it, noting the Staffy’s markings and the little nick in her left ear before shaking my head again.
“I’m sorry. I’ll keep an eye out for her, okay?”
“Ta,” he grunted, carefully folding the picture back up.
I headed off towards work, taking it relatively easy since I wasn’t short on time and in case there was ice on the pavements that hadn’t been gritted down yet. Usually, when I ran, my thoughts took a break from thinking about work and left me alone for a while, to focus on nothing but my tired legs and my trainers hitting the pavement.
Today, however, I found myself thinking back to the conversation I had with officer Tovar in the breakroom and how she’d mentioned a missing dog, too. I didn’t think a great deal of it, except to feel sympathy for both Tovar and the man outside the gym, since they were both worried about the missing animals.
Later on, I would wish that I’d paid more attention from the start, however unremarkable the first indications of trouble had been.
Two
“We’ll have this good and wrapped up by the end of the week, ma’am,” I assured the superintendent.
Arabella Rashford considered me for a moment before giving a nod. She had her afro braided over the weekend and looked as smart and crisp as she always did.
When she’d taken over from her predecessor, Gaskell, I’d been worried that I’d end up with someone like DCI Sedgwick as a boss. A good cop Sedgwick might be, but he wasn’t best disposed towards me, and I hadn’t wanted to have my every decision micromanaged just because I didn’t have the same city background as some of the others here. But Rashford had turned out to be firm and fair, respecting Gaskell’s good word on me and my previous work record, and I appreciated her extending that measure of trust.
“Good,” she said, closing up the file I’d given her and sliding it back across the table. “I know you’d rather be out getting involved in things, Mitchell, but planning how Hewford will go forwards is crucial.”
“I know, ma’am.”
She dismissed me, and I picked up the folder containing our work so far and headed back over to Stephen.
“What did she think?”
“Aye, she liked it.”
I dropped the folder on the desk and sat down, gratefully accepting the fresh mug of coffee Stephen off
ered me. It was still early in the day, and the station’s heating hadn’t fully kicked in yet, leaving a chilly edge to the air. I had a hot shower after running into work, but my hair was still damp, and I was glad to have a steaming coffee in hand.
“I told her that we’d be finished by Friday,” I said, taking a sip. He’d made it as lethally strong as I liked it, and I relished the bitter kick.
“At the latest,” Stephen agreed.
We’d been working on a proposal for new policing tactics, which would be put into effect at Hewford and, if it worked how it was supposed to, other stations around York. The start of the new year had made Rashford, and presumably, her superiors too, look towards the future. The government was almost always trying to cut our resources, I knew, and the higher-ups wanted new initiatives to be put into place, preferably ones that were more efficient and cost less.
I could have had some scathing words to say about that, but my job wasn’t to give pointed advice but to write up a tactics plan that Rashford would be happy with. Still, Stephen and I had put a couple of paragraphs in the report where we made it clear that certain proposed budget cuts were completely unattainable and would lead to no end of difficulties in the long and short term alike.
It was mid-morning when DCI Sedgwick’s partner, Alison Greene, approached our desks. I’d been getting stiff and bored with sitting still, so the distraction was a welcome one. I gave her my full attention.
“DI Greene,” I greeted her. She gave me a nod back.
“DCI Mitchell. I’m here to ask a favour.”
“Aye? Did Sedgwick send you over?”
“No, actually.” She gave a sigh, looking a little worn, and I wondered what the issue was. “Did you know that he cycles into work?”
“I heard it around,” I said, at the same time that Stephen shook his head.
“He does,” Greene said, “and he had an accident this morning. Broken ankle.”
Moving Target (A DCI Thatcher Yorkshire Crimes Book 6) Page 2
