Without a Trace

by Mari Hannah

  In Hounslow, Kate scrubbed the ink from her arms until they were red raw, changed her work clothes for a tracksuit and went for a run. After a day of heavy lifting, she felt better for it. She’d begun to slow her pace and was looking forward to her warm-down exercises – and another soak in the bath, this time without alcohol – when the road beside her was illuminated by headlights that didn’t progress along the road as she expected. When they mirrored her stride and no vehicle sped past, it didn’t take her long to realise that she was being followed.

  Pulling up, she crouched down, a fake attempt to do up her shoelaces, offering the driver no choice but to cruise right by, hoping to catch his number.

  The vehicle stopped.

  Kate’s heart almost followed suit. It was banging like a drum inside her chest, and not from exercise, the hairs on her neck pricking up, the sweat on her body beginning to freeze. She heard the engine idling, the door opening, then closing. A pair of shiny shoes appeared on the pavement beside her. She looked up to find Detective Chief Superintendent Bright leaning against his selenite-grey Mercedes S-Class, a car she’d helped him choose.

  ‘That’s not funny, guv. You scared the shit out of me.’ She knew him well enough to drop the formality of rank whenever they were alone but chose not to on this occasion. There had been so much angst between them lately, he seemed more like a ‘guv’ than a Phil, the man she admired so much. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘Waiting for you.’

  Kate stood up. ‘How did you—’

  ‘I run the CID, that’s how.’

  Anxiously, she peered along the street, scanning the cars on either side of the road, pavements too – fortunately, they were empty. She refocused on Bright. ‘Are you trying to out me to the whole wide world, or have you come to have another go at me?’

  He folded his arms, never taking his eyes off her. ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘And I need anonymity.’

  ‘Then you’re in luck. Carmichael says you’re in the clear. There are no images of you and Jo together on the internet.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’ She paused. ‘I can’t believe Torres told you where I was.’

  ‘It was that or no deal,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah? She doesn’t strike me as the type to negotiate.’

  ‘Neither am I … except with you, apparently. If you think for one minute that I’d agree to your undercover deployment without knowing exactly where you’d be living, you’re sadly mistaken. I don’t give a toss about Torres, Homeland Security or the US President for that matter, but I do give a stuff about you, even if you make it impossible for me to like you sometimes.’

  ‘Only sometimes?’

  ‘OK, most of the time.’ His face was set in a scowl.

  Kate panicked.

  He hadn’t driven almost three hundred miles to trade insults. There was a reason he was there. She wondered if she was it; if he’d changed his mind about her involvement with Homeland Security, or if Torres had, egged on by Waverley. Had ‘Gold’ been stirring it, demanding a substitution with one of his own officers? He didn’t need to discredit her in order to get his way. She’d done that all by herself. Bright had every right to pull her off the investigation and haul her arse north and Hank’s along with it.

  Let him try.

  ‘If you’re planning to order me back to base, you’re wasting your breath as well as your petrol—’

  He gave her hard eyes. ‘Why would I give with one hand and take away with the other?’

  ‘Beats me. I’ve given up second-guessing you. It makes my head hurt, so why don’t you put me out of my misery and tell me why you’re here before I freeze to death.’

  ‘There’s no mystery. I’m on my way to Hendon for a summit meeting …’ His expression softened, a wry smile developing. ‘Authorised Professional Practice, something you’re not particularly good at and will bore the tits off me. As you were here, I came down early. Thought it was worth driving thirty miles to see my most bolshie DCI.’

  ‘And your most successful,’ she reminded him.

  ‘That too … How are you holding up? I want the truth, not the well-rehearsed version.’

  It was a daft question – one she had no intention of answering.

  She tried not to get maudlin and hoped he’d do the same. Her emotions were all over the place. She was struggling. Anyone who cared to look would see that. Her mood swings were hard to cope with, for him and for Hank. Unqualified in self-diagnosis, she assumed this was part of a process she’d have to work through on her own.

  Last night, she’d convinced herself that there was little chance of finding Jo alive, but where there was a flicker of hope, the slightest chance that she wasn’t on that plane, Kate would hang onto it. She’d get angry if Bright suggested that she should face facts. They were similar in many ways but they often saw things differently. Ordinarily, Kate needed a body before she’d accept that there had been a death.

  She simply wasn’t ready for that.

  The breeze on her damp skin made her feel cold and shivery. She rubbed at her upper arms, suddenly aware that she was standing with her guv’nor, dressed in Lycra in the middle of a hellhole, hair pinned untidily, sweaty after her run. Christ knows what she looked like. And she wasn’t buying the Hendon visit as his reason for seeking her out.

  ‘You said we need to talk, so talk.’

  ‘Not here …’ Laying a fatherly hand on her shoulder, Bright thumbed to her flat down the road. ‘Go in and get dressed. I’ll wait in the car.’

  41

  Kate didn’t keep him waiting long; fifteen minutes, no more, before she opened the Mercedes door and climbed in, dressed more appropriately: warm kit, a hat to cover scruffy hair that needed a wash, no slap. At least her face was clean. She couldn’t care less what she looked like and didn’t intend hanging around long enough for him to notice her shoddy appearance. A quick drink – if that’s what he had in mind – and she’d be away.

  Despite telling him that she had work to be getting on with, he drove off like he knew where he was going, skirting High Point Village where Esposito lived, eventually arriving in Hayes fifteen minutes later at an inn called The Pheasant. There was a restaurant at the rear, the interior of which reminded her of one near her father’s home in rural Northumberland. As she got out of the car, she wondered how he was doing and instantly felt guilty for not having contacted him.

  At the rear entrance, Bright pushed open the door, standing aside to let her in.

  Unless he happened to be in the Northumbria incident room, chasing a result she couldn’t land quick enough for his liking, shouting her down for something or other in the privacy of his office at HQ, he was always the perfect gentleman, impeccably dressed, with a presence that drew the attention of everyone around him, including one female member of staff who greeted him with a smile as he approached the bar.

  ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Yes, I have a table for two booked. The name is Wild.’

  As the waitress consulted her electronic reservation book, Kate’s mouth almost fell open. Her hackles were up and it showed. ‘You … did what?’

  ‘Oh, come on, Lou! I wanted to surprise you.’

  He had. ‘No, listen, I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’m on early shift in the morning.’

  ‘Nonsense. We need to talk and I’ve gone to a lot of trouble. You’re not running out on me again.’ Winking at the waitress, he ordered wine without consulting Kate. She bristled. Nothing to do with his choice, an Australian Grenache. After hanging one on last night, the thought of even a thimbleful of alcohol turned her stomach.

  Sensing a tension developing between the new arrivals, the waitress grabbed a couple of menus off the counter and pointed to her left. She gave a nervous smile. ‘Follow me, sir.’

  Don’t mind me, Kate thought, but didn’t say.

  They were led to an intimate table for two, away from other diners. She wondered if this was Bright’s idea, pre-planned. Or,
because they were obviously not on good terms, the waitress wanted to keep them away from other customers. He pulled out a chair. Kate sat down – a scowl on her face – taking a menu as it was held out to her, an impressive list that made her mouth water.

  She hadn’t eaten all day.

  They waited for the waitress to return with the wine.

  Pouring them each a glass, she made her getaway.

  Kate wished she could follow suit. She leaned in, whispering through gritted teeth. ‘Wild? My abusive ex? Are you serious?’

  ‘What? You think I no longer have the skill?’

  ‘Did I say that?’

  ‘You didn’t have to. Your face did it for you. Keep arguing, Lou. I’m supposed to be the monster you’re running away from. In fact, if you could work in a tear or two, that would be bloody perfect.’

  She glared at him.

  Now they were inside, she noticed how drawn and pale he looked. She assumed it was because he’d been driving for hours without a break. She could tell he had more than that on his mind. He was biding his time, for what she didn’t know.

  The penny dropped – he had news from up north.

  It didn’t take him long to voice it. ‘We have ID, Kate. Our victim is Yulian Nikolaev.’

  ‘Jesus!’ The name stunned her.

  Nikolaev was a Russian drug lord, a self-made billionaire thanks to his drug-running operation. He was old school, brutal with it, prepared to kill anyone who got in his way, by any means. He’d murdered and tortured more people than most right-minded individuals could ever imagine, but the police had never been able to prove it. He had the best legal team money could buy. The opposition would simply disappear, never to be seen again. Witnesses too. He could run rings round law enforcement.

  ‘How? Do you have a crime scene?’

  ‘Doorstep shooting at his home. We have no leads and little chance of finding any.’

  ‘Who would dare talk?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘Is that why you’re here, hoping to persuade me to return to Newcastle?’

  ‘No, Robbo is doing a fine job. Besides, Torres seems to think she needs you more. I won’t lie to you. I could do with Hank, but for now he’s yours.’

  Kate was overwhelmed. ‘Thank you, Phil.’

  He’d never know what it meant to have his support. She’d stepped out of line so often she’d lost count. Time and again he’d covered her arse, as he had with Waverley. Gold wasn’t stupid. In lying for her, Bright had broken the invisible code of honour between senior officers, dropping himself in the shit, making himself look weak. He was nothing of the kind. Kate was off the hook, for now.

  ‘I’ll call Robbo.’

  ‘He’d appreciate that.’ Bright pointed at the menu. ‘Shall we eat?’

  A nod. Suddenly, Kate was hungry.

  When they had finished their meal, Kate looked up to find Bright studying her. He could probably tell she was agitated, dwelling on her undercover deployment for Homeland Security, Nikolaev and Robbo, but mostly Jo. She was everything. Without her, what was there? Her guv’nor picked up his wine, on the verge of saying something, finally breaking the silence.

  ‘Kate, I know you don’t want to hear it—’

  ‘Then don’t say it. No words of comfort, from you or anyone, will make me feel any better.’

  ‘Not now perhaps. It’s too early in the process. You’re too raw, but I want you to know that it won’t always feel like this. You will get over it, eventually. It’ll take time, but you have so much going for you—’

  ‘Oh yeah?’ She gave him the side-eye. ‘Like what, exactly?’

  ‘Like a close circle of friends, a good home, the job of your dreams—’

  ‘Wasn’t enough for you,’ she snapped. ‘Why should I be any different?’

  ‘I was lucky to get a second chance. You will too.’

  ‘I don’t want a second chance, so stop right there! I mean it. Another word and I’ll walk.’

  Her comment had drawn the attention of other customers and members of staff; a few heads turned in their direction. Raising both hands, Bright fell silent. Kate stared at him. No wonder she’d lost it. He might as well have said what he was thinking, that Jo was fish-food. On the other hand, she could tell from his wounded expression that he was trying to help, not hurt her.

  She apologised for biting his head off.

  ‘No, you’re right,’ he said. ‘I was out of order. It was a stupid thing to say. We should have gone to my hotel and had this conversation in private—’

  ‘Or not had it at all.’

  She knew he was trying to lift her, to remind her of the things that were once important. There was a time when she’d have given anything to get to the next rank and beyond, following in his footsteps. He’d groomed her to take over and that had driven her to hide who she really was. The sole reason for keeping her relationship with Jo a secret was blind ambition. Reaching her full potential seemed important then, but none of that mattered now.

  None of it.

  If Jo was gone, it had all been for nothing.

  Kate dropped her head. In the past couple of years, she’d come to realise that her current role as Senior Investigating Officer in the MIT was where her talents lay. A step up would put her in a position that was purely administrative and she didn’t want that. Even though the job and the responsibilities that came with it had come between them, Jo understood that Kate preferred to be hands-on, working with a great bunch of detectives who gelled as a team and looked after one another.

  Jo felt it too …

  On days off, they both missed the camaraderie within the office environment: Robbo’s tales of his five-year-old son, brimming with hilarious questions; Carmichael and Brown’s constant music debates; Maxwell’s attempts at political correctness that fell woefully short of their target; Hank cracking them up with his friendly sarcasm. When Kate was at work, she valued Jo’s unparalleled input as a criminal profiler, but it was their after-hours relationship that got her up in the morning.

  The rest was meaningless.

  ‘The team send their best,’ Bright said quietly.

  ‘I don’t need their best. I have Hank. I have you.’

  ‘Kate—’

  ‘Don’t you dare. Don’t you bloody dare.’ She turned away, looking out of the window, avoiding everyone around her. When she turned round, Bright was staring at her.

  ‘I’m tired. What do you want, guv?’

  ‘A straight answer would do for starters.’ He dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘I’m not pissing about here, Kate. Do you really think you’re fit enough to investigate this plane crash?’

  ‘Yes,’ she snapped. ‘And, coming from you, that sounds like a joke.’

  ‘Except this is no laughing matter, is it? You were jumpy in the street—’

  ‘So? You should try being a woman out in the dark sometime. It sucks.’

  ‘It’s unlike you, is all I’m saying—’

  ‘How the hell would you know? You think because I’m a copper, trained to handle myself, I don’t have the same concerns as any other female on the planet? Think again.’

  ‘Kate, calm the fuck down. I’m worried about you, that’s all. Didn’t you ask me if I was fit for work when the roles were reversed? When Stella died, I seem to remember you telling me to ease up, seek professional help even.’

  ‘And did you listen?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘There you go then. The roles aren’t reversed. No partner died here, not until I say so. What would you have me do, Phil? Suck it up, go home and sit by the bedside of a sick man who can barely look at me and has taken twenty years to even tolerate the way I run my life? I’m on top of this, so either have me arrested for impersonating a police officer or back the hell off.’

  Kate’s jaw was rigid.

  ‘All right, have it your own way, but don’t come crying to me if you fall apart. Whatever you do for Torres, I expect you to support Robbo—’


  ‘I said I would, didn’t I?’

  ‘Just so you know that you’re no longer a spectator. You have the opportunity to collaborate on one of the most important and wide-ranging investigations you will ever come across. If this is the way you pay homage to Jo …’ He lifted a hand, cutting off her attempt to interrupt. ‘That’s all well and good. As I told Torres, it makes your contribution all the more personal, but know this: you are in for the duration. There’s no backing out later. So, if your answer is a categorical, no holds barred “yes” and you wish to continue with this madness, then make some noise and leave.’

  ‘Fine!’ Kate may have raised her voice, but this was no act for fellow diners. She meant it. Her chair scraped across the floor as she pushed it away from the table, grabbed her bag and stood up.

  She couldn’t wait to end their conversation.

  Bright put on his best regretful face. ‘Lou, don’t do this.’

  Taking out his wallet, he threw a bundle of notes on the table, flashing his cash for a reason, then hurried off after her. The businessman with money to burn and the woman with the fiery temper would be remembered if Kate had to prove she was who she said she was down the line.

  42

  Without access to her phone, Kate hadn’t been able to call Robbo and find out how things were progressing at home. To do that, she’d have to retrieve the device from Hank. The sooner the better. If he’d spoken to Carmichael, Robbo probably knew the score by now. On second thoughts, she didn’t think so. He’d have been in touch if he had.

  Kate began her shift at six a.m. As she worked, she continued to watch the baggage handlers she had concerns about, their names firmly imprinted on her memory, though no longer visible on her forearm. At every opportunity they gathered in a huddle, casting an occasional glance in Hank’s direction, keeping an eye on him as he ushered others into his office for interview. More importantly, from her perspective, if anyone official arrived, the three under observation would quickly separate. Had they conspired to bring down 0113?

  One of them looked over.

  She turned away, hauling another bag off the conveyor belt, the constant stream of luggage passing through the strip curtain setting in motion a memory. Having disembarked from a flight from Reykjavik to Edinburgh, she and Jo had been first to arrive in baggage reclaim when Kate spotted a lone bag going round and round on the carousel. After three revolutions, other passengers began arriving, small children among them. One or two became nervous as they looked on. Kate had called security and the hall was cleared, dog handlers arriving soon after to examine the suspicious item. A false alarm as it turned out, a weary passenger from an earlier flight having left the airport without collecting the bag.