Sharpie stopped the comments about the DI with one look at Marlo. His mouth set in a line, he told Mac and Doc to go and prepare the RIB, before turning towards her.
‘Buck, you know what I’m going to say. You don’t even know the guy, and he outranks you. Bite your tongue.’
Marlo had the grace to blush slightly, knowing her mouth often spoke before her thoughts had caught up. ‘Sorry. I’ll rein it in. Won’t happen again.’
Sharpie nodded and went back to lining up the oxygen tanks ready for removal into the vehicle.
With all of them working together, they were briefed and ready to leave inside of half an hour.
Outskirts of Hetton-le-Hole – 2 November
Elvie was terrified. She and Nita had been herded out of the van and in through the front door of a house. They’d been shepherded upstairs to a tiny room, thrown inside and a key had been turned. There were two single beds and a lamp on a small table. The walls were bare, and the only other thing present was a tray containing a large jug of water and a plate with some dry sandwiches on.
Elvie had never really eaten bread. She knew what it was but was more used to the flat breads her Noni had made, or, of course, rice. But her hunger and thirst won over any doubts she had. She pushed her fear to one side, helped Nita to the bed, and slowly held a plastic cup to her friend’s lips.
‘Mabagal,’ she whispered as Nita tried to gulp the water. Nita nodded and slowed down as ordered. After Nita finished downing the water, Elvie handed her a piece of sandwich. Slowly Nita took a bite of the strange food and chewed. Cheese. She’d had that before. Nodding at Elvie, she took the sandwich and took another bite leaving her friend free to eat too.
From the language of the men at the car park, Elvie presumed they were either in the United Kingdom or America. For a moment, emotion clogged her throat as she silently thanked her Noni.
Noni had taught her to speak, read, and write English. When Noni had been young, she’d fallen head over heels in love with a British soldier, stationed at one of the nearby camps. The soldier had fallen for Noni too; his name had been William Grant. William and Noni had begun a relationship. He had wanted her to come and live with him in Suffolk, England. But Noni’s parents had been unhappy with the relationship. They had kept Noni inside and after a few weeks, William had had to leave to return with his platoon. Only days after he had left, Noni had discovered she was carrying his child, Elvie’s mother, Myrna. Luckily for Noni, her parents supported her throughout. They’d had no idea that Noni had kept in touch with William, who went on to marry and have his own children. The letters between the two continued until a few years ago they’d stopped coming. And when they stopped both Noni and her granddaughter presumed that William had passed away.
Elvie had fond memories of sitting on her Noni’s lap reading all William’s letters. She hadn’t let on she knew English to the men, of course, and there were some words she hadn’t understood. But she understood the gist of it. She knew what was implied and was grateful the big one had stopped the thin one from forcing them to do something they wouldn’t want to do.
Whatever this place was, it wasn’t a good place to be. They had to find a way out.
Elvie felt her eyes grow heavier, her legs felt like weights. She looked at Nita, confused at the depth of her tiredness. But Nita was already laid out on the bed with her eyes closed, breathing deeply. Elvie had nothing left to fight with; she sank back onto the bed and let the darkness take her away.
Neither girl noticed the bedroom door open nor saw the two males enter with two other young girls. Between them, they picked Nita and Elvie up and took them to another room.
Durham Cathedral, Durham City – 2 November
Marlo jumped out of the 4x4 used to tow the RIB and made her way with Sharpie over to the melee of cops stood around an unmarked vehicle. The dawn had just broken, and the cathedral loomed in the background, ominous yet protective. It had seen its fair share of war and was still standing, though some of it had been rebuilt and restored over the years. Marlo shifted her attention to the conversation as they reached the man who was obviously the DI.
‘DI McKay? Sergeant Colin Sharp, dive team. This is my lead diver, Marlo Buchanan.’
‘Just Ali is fine. Thanks for getting here so quickly. Don’t envy you the job of getting in the water on a day like this. It’s bloody freezing. Guess winter’s definitely on its way.’
‘The suit keeps me warm enough,’ replied Marlo, making eye contact with him. His suit jacket was fastened over his shirt, and his dark hair moved with the wind. His grey eyes held her gaze and her cheeks flushed again as she remembered her comments of earlier. She really needed to learn when to shut up. ‘Show us the body?’ she added.
The river was high, not far from the top of the bank and almost at breaking point. Any more rain and the river would flood the nearby cricket field, not to mention immerse the lover’s chair that sat not too far away on the footpath. The chair had been there for a long time. It was made of stone and from the front looked like a normal chair, but the back had gargoyles pulling from the stone as if trying to escape.
Marlo and Sharpie glanced at each other as the body came into sight.
It was still in the same place, caught in the water tumbling at the base of the weir. The body was being battered but held solid in place. It had to be snagged; otherwise, the river would have carried him off towards the ocean at Sunderland.
Sharpie frowned. ‘I don’t like the sheer volume of water here. Getting you in the water, even with the lines, wouldn’t be safe. We’ll try to do a snag and bag. We can reassess once we’re in the RIB if need be.’
Marlo nodded. When the water was that bad it made sense to reduce the risk as much as possible.
‘Go suit up and help the team,’ said Sharpie with a nod. He turned back towards Ali and added, ‘Are we thinking murder?’
‘Won’t know ’til we get the body out. There’s a couple of missing persons outstanding, but I think he’s too old; they’re both just teenagers. Maybe he’s a jumper. The sooner we get him out and make an ID the better. It’s getting later anyway. The last thing we need is more people having a heart attack.’
Sharpie looked at him, puzzled.
‘Sorry. The old boy that found him had a heart attack. He managed to get it rang in to the control room but then passed out. Doesn’t look good for him, but he’s at the hospital now.’
‘Jesus. Poor fella.’
‘Are you wanting me on the RIB or the bank?’ asked Ali.
Sharpie raised an eyebrow – the DI knew boats? ‘Bank is fine. I’m gunna go brief my team.’
Ali watched as he walked off. He’d noticed the look of surprise. No one down here knew he’d worked the dive team in Edinburgh years before. There’d never been any need to tell them. His heart filled with sorrow as he remembered his reason for leaving. You’ll never catch me diving again. Turning, he made his way back to the car.
River Wear, near Durham Cathedral, Durham – 2 November
The engine of the RIB hummed loudly as it came to a stop in front of the weir. The body was more in view now with the sun rising and banishing the darkness. Marlo could see the male was in his early twenties, and a jagged gash was visible against the pale skin of his forehead. It didn’t look good: wounds like that usually came from being clocked round the head with something hard. Marlo glanced at Sharpie, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. This was potentially a murder.
She held the pole steady as she tried to hook the body to pull it towards the RIB. Sharpie was at her side, acting as the standby diver. Mac and Doc were both working on the tanks in case Marlo had to go in the water, and Connor stood at the engine trying to maintain position against the heavy flow of water. Marlo managed to hook the body and tugged, trying to free it from the hold of the weir.
A tree branch hit the RIB causing it to jerk suddenly, and Marlo felt herself pitch forwards. She inhaled a sharp breath in anticipation of the blast of cold water th
at she was about to hit, but her body jerked backwards. Sharpie had grabbed her utility belt and heaved her back.
‘Intent on taking a dip today, Buck?’ he joked.
‘Just making sure you’re awake.’ She yanked the pole again, firmer this time and the jolt was enough to free the body from the water’s grip. They pulled the male towards the RIB and grabbed his clothing, pulling him over the inflated edge and onto the base of the boat. Working quickly, they manoeuvred him inside a mesh-sided bag. The mesh allowed any residual water to drain off, while holding any potential forensic evidence inside.
As Connor navigated the RIB back to shore, Marlo cupped her hands to her mouth and blew hard, trying to warm them up. The Kevlar gloves were great for preventing injuries, but they didn’t stop the cold seeping through into finger joints.
‘What have we got then?’ asked Ali as the team pulled the RIB up the bank.
Marlo opened the zip fastening at the top of the bag, peeling it down so Ali could see the male’s face, watching as Ali frowned.
Kneeling down for a closer look, he said, ‘I know this lad. We had him in not so long back for domestic assault, I’m sure we did. Charlie handled the interview. He bashed his missus round the head with an ornament. Maybe this is her way of striking back. Is there any ID on him?’
‘We haven’t looked. We pull ’em out. You can put your hands in his pockets, guv.’ Connor’s voice was sarcastic as he stood beside Marlo glaring at Ali. She shot him a warning look. What the hell is his problem?
Ali looked suitably shocked at Connor’s tone. ‘Problem?’ he asked, his eyebrows raised.
Connor looked ready to respond with anger, so Marlo quickly interrupted. ‘No, no problem. I’ll check for ID now.’ She patted the male’s pockets and found his wallet tucked in his jeans at the front. Pulling it free, she flicked it open. ‘Grant Cooper?’
She handed Ali the wallet so he could look at the picture on the provisional driving licence card.
‘Aye, that’s him.’ Ali put the wallet into a small evidence bag, sealed the open end, and turned back towards his team. Remembering his manners, he turned back. ‘Thanks, Marlo.’
‘What the hell was that?’ hissed Marlo in Connor’s direction.
‘What was what?’ he asked, looking confused, ‘I just told him to do it himself.’
‘He’s a DI, Connor. Checking the pockets wouldn’t have killed you.’
‘Cops like that do my head in, waltzing in like they own the place and taking over. Besides, he’s a knob. It’s his fault that guy escaped the other month. Proper risk assessments weren’t carried out. Because of him, a prison guard was killed. That guard was my cousin, Billy. No way Billy deserved to die like that. His deaths on his shoulders.’ Connor jerked his head towards Ali.
‘I’m sorry about your cousin. But I’m sure the prison does their own risk assessments. I don’t know much about the case so can’t really comment, but—’
‘Well, keep your comments to yourself then,’ snapped Connor before marching off towards the van.
Marlo stared after him. Jesus, overreaction much. Though I guess I’m one to talk. It was only this morning I was bitching about Ali. Pot. Kettle.
River Wear, near Durham Cathedral, Durham – 2 November
Connor stopped beside the van, immediately regretting his harsh words to Marlo. She wasn’t to know Billy had been his cousin. To be fair, Connor had often wished he and Billy hadn’t shared familial ties anyway; his cousin had been a tosser for the most part, always had multiple women on the go and treated people like shite. Connor knew Billy had been responsible for half the drugs going into the prison, but it was just one thing on a list of many that he couldn’t prove. And regardless of his faults, he was still family.
He sighed deeply.
His family really were the bane of his life. He was convinced he’d been born into the wrong body. He tried his damnedest to stay on the right side of the law, despite every opportunity placed in his path by his uncle. He had always been in the picture looking after Connor and his sister, and Connor had always been expected to enter the family business. If racketeering and smuggling could be called a business. Instead, he’d stuck to his guns, kept his nose clean, even moved to the Midlands and joined the force.
The rumour mill however, had closely followed him, eventually forcing him into the transfer to the north-east police.
His new colleagues knew nothing of his family, despite the fact that Uncle Fred had soon moved up to the north-east himself. To help his parents, he’d said. Lord knew his mum and dad needed the help. His mum had early onset Alzheimer’s, and his dad struggled daily with looking after her. His uncle made sure the mortgage was paid and visited every day – always making sure Connor never forgot just how much he had to be grateful for.
And his uncle Fred rang him every day when he was at work, fishing for goings-on and information. Which Connor had to provide, or his mum and dad would end up homeless. His wage, though decent, wasn’t enough to pay their mortgage as well as his own. Not to mention the cost of putting his sister, Marie, through university. Uncle Fred took care of it all, and if all he wanted in exchange was snippets of information, then Connor really didn’t have it in him to say no.
Connor was smart though, at least he thought he was. The information was only ever minor – drugs raids going down, whispers of searches heard in the bait room. He’d never accessed the force systems purposefully for intel, but it was still bad enough. He knew if he ever got found out, it wouldn’t be something he could just explain away. Professional standards would have his job.
And now he’d snapped at one of his colleagues and made himself look like a prat.
Sighing deeply, he shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned. When on earth will this all end? When will I be able to dig myself out of this shit? When will I be able to make amends for all the bad things I’ve done?
He knew there was no excuse. One day fate would come knocking, and then what would he do?
Putting his face straight, he turned and walked back to the team. They could never know. He needed to get Marlo alone and apologise.
Outskirts of Hetton-le-Hole – 2 November
Elvie felt consciousness try to tug at her mind. She tried her best to resist, wanting to stay in the dreamworld where she was safe and nothing could touch her. But a voice invaded her subconscious, prompting her to become more aware. The voice was female, nasal, and spoke English with a Filipino accent.
‘The youngest one stays. She is pure. She will bring much money. The other goes. Tonight. Take her to Rocko on Wear Street. He will teach her how to be a good girl.’
Elvie heard a male voice give confirmation, ‘Yes, boss. Make sure she’s drugged. The last one used her teeth on me, the bitch. I’ve still got the scars.’ It was the same skinny man who had kicked her.
‘She was punished. The only thing she bites now is the pillow in the bed of the man who owns her.’ The woman cackled as she and the man left the room, closing the door and clicking the lock into place.
Elvie opened her eyes carefully in case she’d been wrong about the door closing. She saw Nita on the bed opposite; her hair was damp, and she had different clothes on. Putting a hand to her own head, she realised her own hair was damp. She had been washed and changed also.
‘Pure?’ she muttered the word to herself. What does that mean?
She tried to sit up, but the room spun making her feel sick. Placing her head back down on the pillow, she closed her eyes. Just for a minute, I’ll get up and… Darkness dragged her back down and she fell back into slumber.
Dive Team HQ, South Shields ––2 November
Marlo stood in the doorway to the sergeant’s office. ‘Hey, Sharpie. Everything’s sorted in the kit room. Am I OK to get away?’
‘Yeah sure, Buck. You’re at HQ tomorrow, right? The professional standards hearing?’ said Sharpie glancing up.
‘Yeah at 1 p.m. I’ll pop here in the morning. If we don’t get a shout,
I was thinking I might do some practice dives. It’s chilly, but the water’s supposed to be calm tomorrow.’
‘That’s a good idea. Connor can join you. He hasn’t had much chance to get in the water with being the new guy. In fact, we’ll all pitch out. It’s been a while since we used the Delta RIB: it could use the run out. Can you tell the team to report in at 7 a.m. and we’ll get started immediately?’
‘Sure. I’ll need to be out and dry for about twelve ish though. Give me enough time to drive back down to Sunderland. Glad this is the final hearing, like.’
‘Well, you paid for the phone. There’s no other issue really. I’d have reacted the same in your shoes.’
‘Yeah, this meeting’s just a formality now. Even so, I’ll be pleased when it’s over.’ The incident they referred to had happened a couple of months ago. The team had just finished pulling a body out of a lake in Washington. A woman had been walking with her three-year-old daughter on the path that ran alongside the man-made bank. The mother had been busy playing on her mobile phone, too engrossed to notice the child walk to the edge to look at the ducks. Marlo had happened to look up as the child pitched forward over the edge and landed headfirst into the water. She’d jumped back in and grabbed the child, pulling her to the surface. The mother hadn’t even heard the splash as her eyes were still fixed on the phone screen.
In a fit of temper, Marlo had grabbed the phone out of the woman’s hand and thrown it towards the centre of the lake. A complaint had been lodged the next day, demanding payment for the phone and demanding the force address Marlo’s “attitude problem”. Professional standards had told Marlo to pay for a replacement out of her own money, and the meeting tomorrow would put the matter to rest.
Time To Play Page 3
