by L.H. Cosway
I stared at her. “Close tabs?”
She stared back at me. “You know, like on the computer.”
I failed to suppress a chuckle. “I know what it means, Lexie. I’ve just never heard it used quite in that context before.”
“Well, you’ve heard it now. You need to shut her down. You’ve never done anything to warrant her behaviour, and it gets on my tits that you’re just sitting back and taking it. No friend of mine takes shit.”
I chuckled some more. She narrowed her gaze. I sighed.
“Look, I get where you’re coming from, but I just feel like my dad did something really horrible to her that nobody else knows about. I wouldn’t put it past him. I mean, she’s hardly a ray of sunshine with everyone else, but with me it’s real hatred. You don’t feel that level of vitriol toward someone without good reason.”
“You should ask your dad about it. Get it all out in the open.”
“Um, have you met my father lately? He’s hardly the sharing kind.”
Alexis shot me an understanding frown, and we finished our food in companionable silence. I was still thinking about Dad later on as I ran a bath and climbed in for a long soak. Both my parents were born and raised in North Belfast during the height of the Troubles. Let’s just say, being a Protestant in Northern Ireland during the 1960s and ’70s did not equal a harmonious existence. My dad worked for the PSNI up until the mid-eighties before being offered a job with the Metropolitan Police here in London. I was born about two years after the move, the only child of a couple where the power mechanics were greatly uneven.
My father was six foot four, lean and mean, with brown hair and blue eyes. My mother was five foot nothing, small and timid, with red hair and brown eyes. At five foot six, tough but sensitive, with red hair and blue eyes, I was an even mix of the both of them.
My mother was my father’s doormat, and the sad thing was that she seemed quite happy to continue in that way. Never in my life could I remember a time when I wanted to be like her. And never in my life could I remember a time when I wanted to be like my dad. I know, funny that I say it, since I seemingly followed in his footsteps and joined the police. The thing is, I never joined the police to please him. I joined the police because I wanted to help people, but more importantly, I joined to prove him wrong.
As a kid I was a tomboy, idolising characters like Sarah Connor and Ellen Ripley, yet every day I’d have to sit around and listen to my dad say stuff like, They shouldn’t let women on the force, they’re too weak-willed, and, What’s the point of a female police officer? Strength-wise, she’ll never be able to take down a man.
At the same time I had to deal with his constant criticisms of both me and Mum, and somehow that transformed into a deep-seated need to do everything in my power to prove my worth. The only problem with that? Katherine Jennings hated my guts, and as long as she did, I was never going to make sergeant. Seven years on the force and I was still a lowly constable. Needless to say, Dad was over the fucking moon that I’d never managed to rise in rank. It proved him right.
Every time I went to dinner at my parents’ house, I had to listen to him go on and on about how I should just quit my job and go do something less hazardous for a woman, like say, become a waitress or a florist. I swear, one of these days I wasn’t going to hold back the tirade of venom that had been piling up inside me for years. One of these days I was going to let him have all of it.
Taking a deep breath and sinking into the bubbles, I tried to rid my thoughts of my father and think of something more relaxing. Somehow, Lee’s face flashed in my mind, which got my blood up in a very different way. I couldn’t win. Involuntarily, a tiny laugh escaped me as I thought of what my father would think if I brought Lee home with me for dinner some evening. And you know, it’d almost be worth it just to see the look on his face, to see that vein in his forehead throb, the one that looked like Vesuvius ready to erupt whenever something pissed him off.
Closing my eyes, I slid farther into the bath, dunking my head under the water as I remembered the first time I met Lee.
“You got a boyfriend?” he asked, hands braced casually on the metal end of my shopping trolley. He had really intense eyes, and the way the muscles in his forearms flexed was a little bit mesmerising.
“That’s none of your business,” I replied, trying to focus on the shelved packages in front of me.
“You act like you’ve got a boyfriend, or are all coppers this uptight?”
A small laugh escaped me. “Look, you’re barking up the wrong tree and I’ve got groceries to shop for, so could you please leave me to it?”
He leaned a fraction closer. “How long have you known Alexis? She never mentioned you while she and Stu were together.”
Cocking an eyebrow, I replied, “Hmm, I wonder why that is? People don’t generally mention the fact that they have friends in law enforcement to someone like you.”
I instantly regretted how judgmental I sounded, but it was the truth. Lee had “dodgy” stamped all over him, from the tattoos to the wiser-than-he-pretends-to-be gleam in his eye. I’d met blokes like him before, usually while I was working. They’d have your wallet and phone from your pocket before you ever realised you were a few hundred quid lighter.
The curve to his lips was at odds with the hardness that suddenly marked his expression. “Someone like me?”
“Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I don’t know you.”
“Yeah, you don’t.”
“And I don’t want to.”
He let go of the trolley and came around to stand before me, whispering, “Now, we both know that’s a lie.” I looked up at him from beneath my lashes, sucking in a breath at his proximity. He smelled like cigarettes and cologne, and I suddenly realised I was enjoying his closeness. Standing back, I shot him a hard stare that told him not to push his luck. He didn’t take the warning, and instead reached out to pull a strand of my hair between his fingers.
“I fucking love this hair. You’re gorgeous. Let me take you out.”
So, he was one of those men, the kind who had a thing for redheads. Before I had a chance to respond, I was saved by Alexis, who came up behind Lee and slapped him cheekily on the arse. God, I loved her. Sometimes it was great having a friend who knew exactly when you needed saving.
I rose out of the water, inhaling a deep breath, and tried to shake my thoughts of Lee. Thinking about a man I could never have was a waste of time. So, doing my best to clear my mind, I endeavoured to enjoy the rest of my bath, minus the inner ramblings.
Two
“Getting high off his own supply. Bloody typical,” my workmate Steve tutted as he recounted the story of a dealer he’d busted the day before.
I wasn’t too fond of Steve, mainly because he was fond enough of himself for the both of us, and his alpha-male braggadocio tended to rub me up the wrong way. It was a Saturday morning, and I was stationed with him, Tony, and another constable, Keira, outside Emirates Stadium, where a football match was to take place between Arsenal and Spurs.
We were mostly there for crowd control, but also because of the old rivalry between the teams that meant there was a small chance of trouble after the game. Football hooliganism was a real pet peeve of mine. These people would fight to the point of seriously injuring one another, all in aid of some perceived feud between sides. It was ridiculous.
“It couldn’t have been very hard booking him, then, if he was high,” I said in an effort to take Steve down a peg or two. I got my argumentative side from my dad. It was a flaw, sure, but at least I could own up to it.
My workmate eyed me, bristling at my comment. “He was on cocaine, Karla. Have you ever met a cokehead right after he’s snorted a few lines? Fucking mental cases.”
“She’s met plenty,” Tony put in calmly, and I could tell he was trying to pre-emptively defuse any bickering between Steve and me, ever the father of the group. “We all have. Saturday nights on the beat are hardly a cakewalk.”
We were stationed close to the entrance, where the Arsenal fans were queuing up, a sea of red and white jerseys. I was on autopilot, scanning the crowds for any signs of disruption, when I caught sight of a familiar face. It had been over two weeks since I’d paid a visit to his house, and I really shouldn’t have been feeling butterflies right then, but I couldn’t seem to prevent them.
Lee Cross and his brother Stu were walking toward the stadium. Both of them were the sort of men who demanded attention, so it wasn’t too much of a surprise that mine was drawn in their direction. Just behind them were their two other brothers, Liam and Trevor. Liam was the youngest, a baby-faced version of Lee. Trevor was the second youngest, and he was prettier than half the girls I knew. Stu, the one Alexis had dated, was the eldest, and he was handsome in a rough and rugged sort of way.
Before I could give it a second thought, my feet were on the move. I managed to bypass Lee and went straight for Trevor.
“Excuse me a moment, sir, but can I have a word?” I said, placing a hand out for him to stop. He paused mid-stride and eyed me closely, like he knew my face but couldn’t quite pin down where he’d seen me before. The moment he took in my uniform, though, his gaze widened with recognition. Still, he didn’t get spooked and instead flashed me a smile, standing back as Liam arched a brow at me.
“Of course, Constable, what can I do for ya?” said Trevor, his sparkly blue eyes dancing. Was this a game to him? Small hairs suddenly prickled at the back of my neck, like a spooky sixth sense. Glancing quickly behind me, I saw Lee standing mere feet away with Stu.
“Problem, Snap?”
I swallowed, my eyelids fluttering nervously. What the hell was wrong with me? I never got nervous like this when I was working. It was Lee. He had a weird effect on me. For some reason, I grew flushed at the same time my jaw tightened. His little nickname for me was really starting to get on my nerves. I ignored him and turned back to Trevor.
“Two weeks ago, on Friday the twenty-first, between five and five-thirty, can you remember your whereabouts?”
He scratched his jaw, like he actually had to think about it. I’d been in touch with the newsagents where the car he’d tried to steal was parked. I requested their surveillance tapes but, and I knew this wasn’t a coincidence, the camera was angled in such a way that it hadn’t caught him.
“It’s hard to remember such a specific time, you get me?” said Trevor right before Stu stepped up, a hostile slant to his mouth.
“You were with me, bruv, down at the garage, remember?”
“Oh, right, yeah. That’s where I was. At the garage.” Trevor nodded.
I looked between the two of them, still incredibly aware of Lee at my back. He had this way of making me feel entirely seen, like he sensed just how uncomfortable I was under his watch. The thought made me even more determined not to let his brothers away with their blatant lie. I should have known that one of them would give Trevor an alibi, though.
“Is there anyone else who can corroborate this? Any other workers at the garage?”
“Of course there are. The place is closed for the weekend, but you be sure to pop over on Monday, and we’ll get you speaking to some of the boys,” said Lee, coming to stand next to me. I sucked in a small breath and tried to remain in control, which was hard to do, considering I was surrounded by Cross brothers amid a crowd of football supporters. I finally allowed my eyes to meet Lee’s, and the way he was looking at me caused me to swallow thickly.
“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll do that,” I answered, a little befuddled, before looking back to Trevor and Stu. “You all enjoy the game.”
I was stepping away when Stu called after me, “We will, and you tell Lexie I was asking for her.”
Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I gave him a quick nod. Stu was drop-dead gorgeous, but his attempts to win Alexis back were pointless. Her heart belonged to another. Lee’s shoulder brushed mine as he turned to follow his brothers, and I couldn’t for the life of me explain why, but I reached out to grab his wrist.
Steve, Tony, and Keira were just yards away, but the area was so crowded that they’d never be able to see I was touching him. He glanced down at my fingers before his eyes rose to my face, and he looked intrigued.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
I breathed heavily when his thumb slid slowly along my palm before rubbing tenderly at the inside of my wrist. Withdrawing my hand like I’d just been burned, I saw his lips twitch in amusement.
“What is it, Snap?” he whispered.
“I, uh, I….” Jesus Christ, was I tongue-tied?
“Karla,” said Lee, and he sounded concerned, “are you all right?”
I blushed, unable to help it, before summoning my resolve. “Yes, I’m fine. I’d just like to ask if you could quit with the nickname. It suggests a familiarity we don’t have, and it undermines my position as a police constable. I have a feeling that’s why you do it, and to be perfectly honest, it’s patronising.”
Sticking my chin out, I looked him dead in the eye, and his expression softened. “If that’s how it comes across, then I’m sorry. But I don’t call you Snap to patronise you — I do it because I like you.”
Damn, why did I have to find his honesty so disarming? He looked like he wanted to touch me again, which made me feel the need to move swiftly on. I wasn’t looking directly at him, but somewhere in the vicinity of his shoulder, when I continued, “Anyway, the other thing I wanted to talk to you about is Trevor. If he’s lying — and I’m not stupid, Lee, he and Stu are clearly lying — then he could find himself in big trouble down the line. He seems like a good kid, but you need to teach him to be smart. And I’m not saying this to be cruel — it’s just the truth — but a boy who looks like him in prison? That wouldn’t end anywhere good.”
I finally managed to meet his eyes, and when I did, I was shocked at what I found. For a second Lee looked guilty, his every feature filled with remorse before it was replaced with something that looked a lot like anger. He took a deep breath and ran a hand over his jaw.
“Are we done here?” he asked curtly.
Soberly, I nodded, and he turned and walked away. It was ridiculous that I felt bad about what I’d said, but it needed to be done. Somebody had to remind Lee of the reality of how his family was living, and exactly where it would lead.
When I went to rejoin the others, I noticed Steve looking in the direction Lee had gone.
“Were those the Cross boys you were talking to just now?” he asked curiously.
I glanced at him. “Uh-huh.”
“What have they been up to this time?”
Tony stepped in to answer for me. “Karla and I had a run-in with one of them a couple weeks ago. Found him trying to nick a car. Never caught him, though.”
Steve chuckled derisively. “Well, you wouldn’t.” He paused and eyed me. “You see the two younger ones? You’ll never catch either of them. At least, not on foot. They’re into all that free-running business. Little shits will be halfway down the side of a building before you’ve even stopped to catch your breath.”
“Seriously?” said Tony.
My mind reeled as I remembered Trevor jumping a ten-foot wall like it was nothing. So it was definitely him. Tony and I shared a glance, like we were both thinking the same thing, and my determination returned. Maybe I would pay a visit to Lee’s garage on Monday after all. It couldn’t be that difficult to catch one of his employees out on a lie.
Don’t get me wrong — I wasn’t doing it because I wanted to put Trevor in a jail cell. I was doing it because I thought it might be enough of a scare to get him to start abiding by the law.
Once the crowds had dispersed and everybody was inside the stadium watching the match, Keira and I went to grab som
e coffees and sandwiches for an early lunch. After that there were a couple of incidents to handle while the game was on, mostly drunk and disorderly behaviour. Sport plus alcohol generally equalled a bunch of rowdy imbeciles.
The game finished 3-1 to Spurs, which meant there was going to be a whole lot of pissed-off Arsenal fans coming our way, including Lee and his brothers. We were controlling the flow in such a way that the fans of opposing teams didn’t mix. Unfortunately, a group of Spurs supporters, not wanting to wait in line, managed to jump one of the barricades. Before we knew it, they’d mixed in with the Arsenal fans.
I’d experienced a number of riots in my time, but had never actually witnessed the moment that instigated it all. It was amazing how something so small could lead to such chaos. One guy wearing a Spurs jersey knocked into an Arsenal fan, heated words were exchanged, and before I knew it, punches were being thrown. I looked to my left and right, but Keira and Steve were too far off, and they wouldn’t be able to get past the crowd on time. I’d have to deal with this myself.
My hand instinctively went to my baton; I wouldn’t hesitate to use it should things get out of control. It was times like these that I really wished all UK police carried firearms. People generally backed off when you were pointing a gun at them. We had armed units, but the main workforce carried only an extendable baton, CS spray, and a Taser. I tried to use the spray and Taser only when absolutely necessary, and usually the sight of my baton was enough to keep most people in line.
The problem in this particular situation? Alcohol.
Both men were angry drunk, the worst kind, so I knew I was going to have a battle on my hands.
“Hey! That’s enough, fellas,” I called out as one man threw a left hook at the other guy’s jaw. A crowd was starting to gather, gangs of people egging them on. Out came the baton, and an onlooker to my left blew a low whistle. This was where my martial arts training came in handy, because a baton was about the same length of an eskrima stick. It wasn’t exactly ethical, but to a certain level you could adapt the skills.
