Or so I thought.
“On a serious note, I have to be certain I can trust you, as a part of this team. That means listening to my instructions all the time, not only when it suits,” DCI Reid lectured, those fatty cheeks moving in haste. “I want you to prove to me that you’re not as reckless as you’ve proved yourself to be. Sometimes, where your heart leads can get you into deep trouble. People could have followed you from the hospital to here. We could have the criminals watching us all now, because you allowed yourself to get involved on a personal level.”
“And that could be trouble.” My shoulders lowered in shame.
“Exactly. They’ve gone this far, who’s saying they won't go further? Lives have already been taken, McCall, and I don’t want you to be next. Tread carefully and watch your back. You never know who’s waiting for us.”
“Noted, sir.” I saluted, which seemed to tickle DCI Reid even further.
“You’ve got a sensible head screwed on there, it has to be said, but you’ve a tendency to rush into things. CID needs sensible leaders as opposed to those working off hunches. Hunches are good in some situations, just not those that are deeper than we originally thought. Agreed?” He spoke nothing but the truth.
“Agreed, Sir.”
We had a huge turnaround in our working relationship today.
“Next time, let’s be honest with each other, eh? It keeps us all up to date and working efficiently as a team,” DCI Reid emphasised, big teeth flashing the graver he became.
“Loud and clear, sir.”
We shared an honest and respectful nod, then he took a sip of his own dark drink as he calculated his response thoroughly.
“We should snap to it, before the rest of them think we’re skiving. You’re free to go.”
“Thanks, Guv.” Standing up timidly, I was about halfway out of the door when he called me.
“McCall, you’re not getting away that easily. Take these, for you and DI Cooper to work on.” Reid slid a bunch of grey and beige folders over his desk purposely.
I should’ve known. No one ever escaped the Guv’s grasp that easily.
A sort of pep filled my step as I returned to the main hub where everyone was still gathered into one large group. They swapped ideas and urgent statements between, bouncing their theories amongst the team.
“You’re chirpy,” Finlay recognised when I handed him our newest bunch of folders.
“Yup,” I eluded, letting them draw their own conclusions. “What did you find whilst I was away?”
John was the earliest to acknowledge the question. “Not an awful lot. We took a look at the streets, the ones where all these alternative stations were alerted for tip offs. There’s no real correlation between them all, except that they were all heading away from the borders.”
Makes sense. They wouldn’t circle around on themselves, that would defeat the purpose of their trip altogether.
“What about the locations themselves?” I took a stab in the darkness. “Is there a pattern between the stations, and if so, any idea where they’ll hit next?” Methodically, if we could crack that, we could alert the rest before it happened a fourth time.
“They seem to hit all the major towns or cities where there's a surge of drug-related deaths.” Tony drew up a map on his own screen, pointing towards the major targets. “But, the drugs never reach the dealers, as the police get their hands on them before that’s possible. So where are all these drugs coming from initially?”
“We thought it could be a diversion,” Finlay got involved, brunette tufts of hair sticking up all haphazardly. One could only assume that he too, had a severe lack of sleep previously. “We focused all of our energy on that specific street at the time of the shootings--”
“Leaving three other main routes for a different vehicle carrying more drugs to escape through.” That had already gone through my mind too. “I’d agree, only the substances we found were cocaine. There’s no way they’d waste all those drugs by putting them into police hands and letting them get destroyed.”
Finlay shot me a look as if to say, ‘Bog off and let us be wrong without making us look stupid.’ “You’ve got a point. We’ll keep searching.”
“Yeah, do. It won't be easy, if three stations have already given up, then who’s saying we’ll be any different.” I didn’t want to be the bearer of disappointing news, only the truth. “Just do our best. These are people who don’t want to be found.”
“DI Cooper?” Rebecca raised her voice a little to break Finlay from his thoughts.
“How can I be of assistance?” he said, busy glancing at the technology surrounding us.
“I’m done.” A wealth of folders slammed the folders on the desks to prove her argument. Her lips twitched upwards in satisfaction, proud to be a fast writer.
“Done as in--?”
“Finished, Every form filled, filed and ordered.” She stood up tall with pride. “I’ve ordered and sorted out all the statements for stolen tech equipment, you know, from the cases you guys couldn’t find a culprit for a few months ago. It seems everyone was too lazy to complete the paperwork for them.” She stared specifically at Cillian.
“Don’t look at me,” he gaped nonchalantly.
“So,” Rebbeca shrugged, “can I join the drugs case yet? I’m faster than everyone out here combined.”
“But it’s only taken you two days at the most!” Finlay stammered, genuinely surprised. It was a scene to cherish for years to come.
“I know, but I don’t twat about like all the others.”
“Uh, then I suppose you can. You’ve finished what was asked of you,” Finlay agreed informally, undoing the constricting tie. “There’s not a hell of a lot to do yet.”
“That doesn’t matter to me,” Rebecca revealed. “So long as I'm on an even playing field as the guys.”
13
Roughly a week later, Ryan Shaw returned, having recovered from the main setbacks of being hit in the shoulder. He’d been discharged from the hospital with the restriction of completing light duties only. I would’ve made Ryan stay in recovery for longer, but it ultimately wasn’t my decision.
There was a raucous crowd to welcome him, plus plenty more gifts to shower on the injured constable. If getting shot somewhere fixable meant getting chocolates and alcohol, I was seriously considering it.
After the greetings were over, McCall and I took the chance to scour the evidence room for the guns used on-scene. Leads were starting to dry up, and Flynn wouldn’t give much more information away when we’d attempted any further visits. McCall rifled through the evidence room on a mission. Her lips were pressed together firmly, changing to a light white colour. This was perhaps the most exciting place in the station. You never knew what would appear on these shelves from one day to the next. It was a junk shop full of prohibited stuff.
“Here,” I found what we were searching for. McCall stepped towards the gun I was holding carefully and searched in awe over its exterior.
“That’s an old police gun, right?”
I was stunned that she knew straight away. “Er, yeah, it is. How did you know that?”
McCall huffed. “I’ve been working here long enough to know a police gun when I see one.” The gun felt heavier than we’d originally expected. Since these models were in circulation, our firearms had improved.
“These haven’t been in circulation for years. This gun alone has probably assisted a dozen or so criminal acts,” I used hushed tones, stunned from awe.
“What, the criminals share these out between them?” McCall’s petite frame barely reached above my shoulders. It was actually adorable. I somewhat thought of her as a gremlin, cute and innocent mostly, but unfed or left in the rain, she’d probably dropkick somebody.
“Yeah. Guns are in short supply over here, and a nightmare to get past border control. Just as much as the drugs. These guns were probably already in the county, presumably stolen a long time ago.” I gently placed the weapon down in its m
arked, allocated spot.
“Where could they have got it from? The real criminals, I mean,” McCall mused aloud as she leaned against a metal shelf full of random objects. It almost tipped over from the extra weight, but luckily we caught it.
“Pft, who knows? Presumably, they pick them up after entering our borders. These are always being used for different kinds of jobs and then resold. They’re in high demand.”
We both found it hard to tear ourselves away from the weapon. It was a beauty.
“Great,” she said dryly. “It’s not easy to trace a whole line of dodgy dealings. Even forensics couldn’t do that. The original owners who stole it first probably had no clue about the drug transportation happening now.” McCall’s spindly finger poked me to divert my gaze.
“Probably not,” I agreed. “They would’ve resold these models years ago. These guns have probably seen a lot of activity over the years. More than us even, and that’s a feat.”
If these weapons could talk, they’d tell some brilliant stories. Imagine all of that history, wrapped up into a fairly small object. Who’d been killed by their bullets? Whose fingers had pulled the triggers?
McCall shook her head at the sight of me with the gun. “Made for good, used for evil.”
“It’s always the way.”
“Did any fingerprints get taken in the end?” She changed the subject, trying every angle we could think of. She was determined to find something for Flynn’s sake. “We could see who else handled these before.”
“Flynn’s prints were all over this, as were Robin’s and Sam’s,” I told her, having seen the emails. “Like you said a minute ago, forensics can’t go much further than that.”
“What about the bullets?” McCall cut me off. “Do they come from anywhere specific?”
“No. They’d be fairly easy to get your hands on, if you knew where to look.” And unfortunately, all the underground networks did.
“I should’ve known,” she groaned, running out of new questions to ask. “I’m beginning to understand why the case got sidelined by the other stations already.”
“Cheer up,” I pulled her into a stiff, sideways sort of hug. “Something will come along, it always does. In the meantime, there’s always that paperwork waiting for us upstairs.”
“Shoot me with the gun, I beg of you.” Her tragic humour showed, making us chuckle sardonically. We had both thought along the same lines there. All the talk of drugs had inclined me to hum, ‘White lines, don’t do it.’
“It would mean receiving a load of gifts out of sympathy and pity. Food, drinks, and a shed load of balloons. You’d be begging me to take them off your hands,” I deduced slyly.
“In your wildest dreams, maybe. Ryan’s load of alcohol was enough to fuel a house party, and he was only a constable. Imagine what they’d get me, as their favourite sergeant,” McCall grumbled, swishing her bright mane in my face. “If I got shot, we’d be able to open our own pub.”
“DCI Reid would be our only customer during work hours,” I goofed around, trying out a few stolen luxury hats we’d picked up from a couple of teenagers by chance. There was quite an impressive selection to choose from: fedoras, pork pie hats and a straw one too.
McCall openly chuckled. “I’d like to say you’re wrong, but we all know it’s true.” She swiped the straw item from my head. “That’s ridiculous on a guy of your size. It would suit someone smaller, like…” She paused, elegantly placing the hat on and performing a jig for comedic measure. “Me.”
As I started to tease her in a friendly manner, a dishevelled and positively disgruntled DC Taylor approached us. He heaved long breaths, seemingly having run all the way here. Seen as it was only us three, the couple didn’t bother with their workplace formalities.
“John,” McCall frowned. “Did you… run?”
“It’s not that surprising.” He waved the question away, raking his fingers nervously through his dampened hair. “I was looking everywhere for you two.”
“Well, you caught us.” I pretended to hold my hands in the air as a form of mercy. “What do you want?” We placed the hats back into their respective places, all our attention solely focused on the younger lad.
DC Taylor failed to reply fast enough for McCall’s liking. “John, what’s going on?”
He jumped, forgetting exactly where we were. “Well…”
Something was wrong, due to the eerie sensation that washed over the evidence room. McCall shivered, obviously feeling it too. It was one of discomfort, something we’d never really felt in a while at the station. Not in this manner, anyway. DC Taylor struggled to spit it out, reddening at the secret being withheld.
“The uniform guys are at a call. The Guv wants you there sharpish. It’s not exactly the best call out to attend,” he rambled on and fiddled with the police radio that was buzzing from the team’s murmured interactions.
“Go where?” McCall said punctually, already leaving the poky room. “Is there a breakthrough with the case?”
An unpleasant tingle trickled through my veins. A hunch of sorts, that this wouldn’t be our normal kind of call out. DC Taylor appeared hesitant to share the facts with us, tripping over sentences and fumbling through words.
“Not- not exactly, no. Kirst, I don’t really know how to say this without scaring you. Your house. There’s been a break-in.”
“A what?” McCall scoffed, believing she’d misheard. I in fact, had to clean my ears out twice.
“There’s been a break-in at your house. Uniformed officers are already there, but they have something for us to see. I don’t know what it is, but the sooner we leave, the sooner we can find out.” DC Taylor grimaced in mental agony at the horrible news he had provided us with.
McCall held onto a random shelf for support, flustered and confused. “When? And who, most importantly?”
“About an hour ago. They’ve secured the place, and there’s no sign of the people who broke in. Apparently, they came in through the kitchen window.” DC Taylor moved to console McCall then.
She didn't cry, nor rage but she went silent. And that was a lethal sign.
Why would anyone have broken into McCall’s house? She wasn’t a particularly rich or flashy individual. Sure, she had a few antiques, but nothing worth too much. There wasn’t anything worth their while. The only plus side to robbing McCall’s home is that we worked long shifts, and so she was barely ever there.
“What did they steal?” I piped up, struggling to see the sense in the logic here.
“I don’t know, I'm just the messenger.” DC Taylor nervously examined McCall, fingers interlaced with hers as a sign of support. “DCI Reid, Rebecca, and Tony are already on their way, but they couldn’t find you two. Guv said that Cillian and I have to stay behind. That I’m too emotionally invested with… sarge and that Cillian is too--”
“Too giddy to deal with the intensity of our situation at hand. Gotcha.” DCI Reid made a lot of sense in heightened situations. It was a relief to know that someone could stay calm under this type of shock. “It can’t be easy to stay behind, but we’ll keep you updated,” I promised as McCall normally would’ve done if she was thinking straight. “Till then, hold down this end. Keep yourself busy.”
“Thanks, Sir. It means a lot.” He leant in closer, hot breath against my ear. “Look after her, will you?”
“Don’t mention it. She’s my partner too. Work partner, that is,” I clarified before assumptions could be made and conclusions jumped to. “I’ll make sure she’s alright.”
But I wasn’t entirely sure McCall was going to be alright. She swayed and rocked on the spot, processing the details given to us. Having a crime happen so close to home, right on our own doorsteps, was the last thing any of us expected.
“I’ll drive,” I offered and waved the Volvo keys until they jangled. McCall didn’t reply, but I knew she’d heard. The news was simply taking a while to process, that’s all. It was a nasty shock to the system. “C’mon.”
14
Broken, shattered shards of glass lay all across the once plush lawn, now ruined by the harmful material. The entire kitchen window had been broken and a bold breeze flew in through the newly formed gap.
“Whoever broke in here, wasn’t messing around. They needed an easy point of access, to enter and exit the building sharpish.” I spoke for the two of us, seeing as McCall could barely utter a single, viable sentence for herself. “It wasn’t the brightest idea, it probably alerted your neighbours from all sides.”
McCall silently surveyed the ruins, face becoming redder at the sight of the torn-apart home. The tiny garden gate, which led up to the small stone pathway, swung open loudly. Scratches covered McCall’s softened hands as she tried to scrabble with the worst of the glass, pin pricking her thumb.
“McCall, don’t. We’ll get someone to sort this out, I swear.” Gently taking a hold of McCall’s elbow, I slowly led her inside. Even I hadn’t fully braced myself for the rest of the mess. Someone had hunted for something or was out to give McCall a jolly good scare. Uniformed officers wearing fluorescent vests crawled throughout the layout of the rooms and patted McCall’s back sympathetically as we walked by. “Just be careful.”
“Careful?” she managed a tiny mumble. “There’s police wandering around my house, and all my belongings are either broken or lost.” She erratically listed off a whole host of reasons not to stay calm.
I spotted the tail end of DCI Reid’s coat upstairs, and we passed a few PCs who were standing on the muddy, carpeted stairs.
“Guv,” I alerted them of our presence. Tony and Rebecca riled around too, grimacing in sympathy at the sight of a lost and saddened McCall. They both looked equally upset by the sights that surrounded us. “What’s happened here? Apart from the obvious, I mean. Why was CID called here?”
Questions upon questions were brimming in my mind, stinging at the injustice of it all. McCall was the last person on earth who deserved this. Someone like me, however, probably would deserve it. I’d hurt more people in the past than McCall had in her entire life.
The Devil Among Us Page 9
