‘Yeah, no problem, LV. I’ll try Sharpie on his mobile. What’s the log number?’
‘It’s 132 of today. Thanks Marlo.’
Marlo sighed and pulled her mobile out from her pocket. ‘So much for a leisurely morning for once,’ she muttered as Connor and Mac made their way out of the break room and down to the equipment room.
12th November, 1235 hours –off the coast of Seaham, County Durham
Marlo pulled the mask in place over her face, and stood to allow Doc to check her connections. She felt the cool oxygen brush over her face and spoke to test the radio inside the mask.
‘Testing, Buck to RIB, over.’
‘Picking you up loud and clear, Buck. Dive safe, don’t let Davy Jones catch you.’ Sharpie’s dive message was always the same no matter who was getting wet. It had become a kind of safety mantra for the team.
Connor was fully suited and ready to go next to her, though he’d been in a foul mood all morning, snappy and frowning constantly. She’d try and catch him after shift and ask if everything was OK.
One thing she was sure of though, was that the weather wasn’t helping his mood any. The wind was bitterly cold, biting into any exposed flesh with its icy tendrils. Dark clouds floated ominously above the RIB and the smell of rain overwhelmed the normal scent of salt. The North Sea was always chilly to swim in. The temperature warmed slightly in summer but it was cold enough from September onwards to give even the hardiest folk cause to consider before dipping their toes in.
Obviously the bloke that had gone swimming was made of tough stuff.
Marlo made sure the Kevlar gloves were snug over her hands, then sat down on the edge of the RIB. Letting her body fall backwards, she landed in the water with barely a splash.
Sharpie had already assessed the tidal flow and given her an initial search grid of approximately twenty metres around the area of the buoy where the male had last been seen. It sounded like a small area, but twenty metres on a day like this would take some time. Virtually all searches conducted by the dive team were done in near-zero visibility, and today's was no different. UK diving was definitely not the same as diving abroad where the waters were crystal clear. Marlo couldn't even see her hand in front of her face.
She kicked her feet, pushing herself forward as she blindly felt around for anything that resembled a human body. She monitored her direction, swimming in a circular pattern, and did her best to ignore the piercing cold seeping through to the bones of her fingers. The drysuit kept her body temperature at a decent level, but the Kevlar gloves were awful and provided no protection at all.
'They really need to invent fur-lined Kevlar,' she muttered.
'That's next on my patent list,' responded Sharpie. 'How's it going down there?'
'Crap visibility and freezing temperatures, my favourite kind of diving,' said Marlo. 'Has the sonar picked anything up?'
'Couple of forms but nothing big enough as yet. You've been down twenty minutes, you ready to switch?'
'I'm good for a bit yet, I can still feel my knuckles.'
Her light heartedness was acknowledged and her mask fell silent again.
It was the life of a diver: you either didn't mind the quiet, claustrophobic nature of being underwater and stayed in the job for years, or you hated it and didn't dive. There wasn't really an in-between. Over the years, people had commented that it couldn't be all that bad underwater, that the UK had clean water ways didn't it? Marlo just responded that it was like swimming through 'poop soup', dark, dingy, and often smelly when you were above the surface line. Despite this though, all of Alpha Team bar Connor, and the members of Bravo team had been in the job for years. Spaces were scarce on the team and didn't come up often. Most wannabe police divers resorted to other roles in the hope that one day their dreams would be realised.
She groaned a little as her hand started going into cramp. It was time for a break.
'Coming topside,' she said before kicking powerfully towards the surface.
12th November, 2135 hours – Marlo’s flat, Sunderland
Marlo rubbed the towel through her hair and pulled it through the bobble into a loose, messy ponytail. Her bones finally had warmth seeping into them and she’d stopped shivering under the scalding heat of the bath she’d just clambered out of.
The silent screams in her head were exceptionally loud tonight, and she frowned as she placed the bottle of red on the side to rest. She suddenly felt incredibly lonely.
She’d never told a soul about the things that haunted her, not even Deena who knew her better than anyone. She’d like to say it was being brought up in care that prevented her saying anything: a lack of skill with boundaries and relationships, but it wasn’t. She was ashamed, it was that simple. If I hadn’t – nope, not going there. She pushed the screams aside, and made an impulsive decision.
Loneliness fuelled by red wine was an accident waiting to happen, so she grabbed the bottle of wine, and made her way towards Ali’s front door. It was only once she arrived that her common sense kicked in. What the hell am I doing? I’m not the girl who knocks on a guy’s door in the middle of the night.
‘But you’re lonely and he did say rain-check,’ argued her mind mercilessly.
Yeah rain-check on coffee, not wine. This is a bad idea.
She turned to leave, and jumped as she realised Ali was standing behind her, obviously assessing her reasons for being there.
‘I was, erm… just…’ Marlo fell silent, her panic now so deep she could barely follow her thought train, let alone string the sentence she didn’t even know how to say together.
‘Bringing me a bottle of wine? Great, after the day I’ve had I could use a glass or two. I’ve just ordered a huge pizza, way too much for me so you’re welcome to stay and join me if you like?’ Ali grinned as her stomach grumbled in response. ‘Guess that’s a yes then, come on through.’
Her cheeks pink, she followed him through the door and into the flat. Glancing around, curiosity got the better of her, and she wandered to the huge mantelpiece in the middle of the lounge. The décor itself was simplistic, neutral colours that were neither here nor there, but there were photos all over. They adorned the top of the mantle, and were mounted on hooks around the room. It made it very homely, and she couldn’t help but look at them. Most had the same dimple in the chin as Ali, and she realised they were all family.
‘Are all these people your brothers and sisters?’ The minute she spoke, she realised how incredulous she sounded, and looked at him, ready to apologise. She didn’t need to though, Ali’s face was steeped in pride, he loved his family and hadn’t even noticed.
He moved closer, and then reached round her to point.
‘That’s my mum and dad; Dad’s been dead a long time now but that’s one of my favourite photos. This one is all of us kids when I was like twelve. It’s in age order so you’ve got Alex, me, Mark and Annie are twins, then there’s Joseph, then James and Max, and finally our little Mary who’s the youngest. This one’s my siblings with their respective partners, and this smiling lot on the walls are my nieces and nephews.’
‘Big family,’ said Marlo, turning her face towards him and smiling.
‘Yeah, they’re fab. How about you? Brothers and sisters?’
‘No, well, kind of, but not really,’ realising she sounded confusing she clarified, ‘I grew up in care. I guess the other kids in the homes classed as brothers and sisters but not in the real sense. I grew up alone.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ pausing not knowing what else to say, Ali pointed at a large picture of a blond toddler, grinning a toothy smile. ‘This is Izzy. You know my brother Alex, he’s a DCI? Currently working out of Newcastle?’
‘He’s married to Cass right? The crime scene manager?’
‘Yeah, Izzy’s their daughter.’
Forgetting where she was for a moment, Marlo leaned back into Ali’s chest. He froze instantly, and she scrunched her eyes together tightly. Way to go Marlo, just do shit th
at’s totally inappropriate as usual.
Ali didn’t say anything though, and he hadn’t moved away. She felt his fingers brush her arm and her heart thudded in response, then suddenly, the door buzzer sounded.
‘Saved by the bell,’ joked Ali lightly, stepping back and making his way over.
Retrieving the pizza, he took it into the kitchen and took the rubber cork she’d replaced in her flat, off the wine, pouring them both a large glass. He struck a match and lit the large church candle on the coffee table.
Marlo stared at the flame for a moment, the hairs on the back of her neck standing to attention. Her senses were on overdrive as the silent screams threatened her composure. She leant forward and quickly blew it out.
Ali looked surprised. ‘Not into candles?’
‘No,’ she said quietly, staring at the smoke curling up from the wick for a second. ‘They’re just dangerous. Always worry they’ll spark or something. Sorry.’
‘No need to apologise, I get it. Here,’ he said, handing her a slice of pizza.
The food was hot, and the wine was smooth – too smooth as one glass turned to three. Marlo didn’t even notice he’d popped the cork on another bottle. She felt more comfortable now, the alcohol easing whatever discomfort there might’ve been. She sat on the sofa next to Ali, her legs tucked up under her bum.
‘Thanks, Ali. I needed this.’
‘Tough day?’
‘Yeah. Hours spent diving off the coast of Seaham and we didn’t even find the old boy that went under. We’re heading back out tomorrow, expanding the search area.’
‘Sorry, love. Was he a swimmer?’
‘Yeah apparently so. He supposedly swam the same stretch three times a week and has done for fifty years according to the log.’
‘Tough as old boots then. There a chance he might’ve swam further away and made it out?’
‘Not really. Coastguard reported a bad rip tide out that way; he probably got caught in it and didn’t have the strength to pull free.’
Marlo’s head dropped onto Ali’s shoulder and the last sentence was muffled against his shirt. She fell silent and her breathing deepened a little.
12th November, 2250 hours – Ali’s flat, Sunderland
Well I’ll be! She’s asleep. Ali let his thoughts run free. They’d had a moment when they were stood by the pictures. He knew it. He’d wanted to turn her around, crush her to him and kiss her hard. His whole body had screamed at him to do it the second she’d leaned back into him. That wasn’t good. He didn’t know if he could do it again, hell it had been so long he didn’t even know if anything still worked as it should. He’d not been with anyone since Tina. He frowned as he tried to remember her face, and all he could see was Marlo. Weird.
Not wanting to wake her, Ali carefully pulled his legs up onto the couch and shuffled down so his head rested on the sofa arm. Marlo mumbled in her sleep then snuggled into the crook of his arm.
This was dangerous territory, it felt comfortable. He figured he’d just lie there for a couple of minutes, maybe watch the end of the movie they’d started, then try and manoeuvre from under her. But before he knew it, his eyes closed, his mind cleared and he fell into a deep sleep.
13th November, 0640 hours – Ali’s flat, Sunderland
Marlo stretched as consciousness pulled her forth. She didn’t want to get up, she was comfy and warm and… on top of someone!
Jumping up rapidly, she blinked several times, eventually understanding she had fallen asleep on Ali. The movement had woken him, the harsh pressure of her hands on his chest as she’d risen waking him suddenly too.
‘What the hell?’ he jerked, sitting up.
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise where I was and then… oh crap. Sorry, Ali. I didn’t mean to fall asleep on you. You must think I’m a right idiot.’
‘Don’t be daft, I meant to wake you, but I must’ve fallen asleep too.’
‘Oh God, the wine,’ muttered Marlo, her head banging to remind her of the multiple glasses she’d consumed.
‘We fell asleep is all, don’t worry about it. I should’ve woken you, but you looked so comfortable and cute, I just didn’t have the heart,’ Ali smiled at her.
Cute? Cute? I haven’t been called that since, well, ever! But, she supposed, she’d never fallen asleep on a guy either. It seemed to be a night of firsts.
Glancing at the clock on the mantelpiece, she struggled to focus and when she saw the time, she paled. ‘Shit, I’m going to be late. I’ve got to run!’
Without giving Ali a chance to reply, she grabbed her sandals off the floor, and rushed out of the door and back to her own flat.
Taking a second once inside, she rested her head on the doorframe for a moment. What the heck was the matter with her? How brazen she must seem to walk into his flat with a bottle of wine and fall asleep on him. This will be round the nick in no time. Idiot!
Berating herself wouldn’t help though, and besides she really was late. She dropped a quick text to Sharpie apologising for her tardiness, pulled her uniform on and left the flat. After locking the door, she noticed Ali stood in the corridor waiting for her, also dressed for the day. He held out a travel mug that was steaming and smelled suspiciously like freshly brewed coffee.
‘Strong and black, you won’t have time to grab any. You need milk?’
Marlo shook her head, surprised at his thoughtfulness. ‘Strong and black is perfect. You didn’t have to do this, thanks, Ali. And again, I’m sorry about last night.’
‘I’m not,’ replied Ali, handing her the cup and heading for the stairs without another word.
Eh? Not what?
Dropping like a lead weight she understood: he wasn’t sorry. Well what does that mean? Groaning she took a quick sip of coffee, he was a bloke. She’d fallen asleep on him all damsel-in-distress like; of course he didn’t mind. That had to be what he meant. Right?
Not having time to over analyse, she followed his lead and headed for the stairs.
Chapter Nineteen
13th November, 0720 hours - Dive Team HQ, South Shields
Marlo rushed into the briefing room and sat down silently.
'Second time in a week, Marlo,' scolded Sharpie. His tone was light but Marlo knew if she was late again she'd be in bother.
'Know we're supposed to be rest days today but that's no excuse. Anyway, busy day ahead. Back out to the coast to continue the search for the missing swimmer, though he hasn't shown up at home so it's very likely now that we are looking to recover a body. Doc, you're lead diver today, Mac and Marlo on pumps. Connor, you're second diver. Any questions?'
The team shook their heads and left the room.
'Pumps, I hate pumps,' grumbled Marlo as she turned to leave. Her head was still thudding dully, and she knew she'd have to take some paracetamol before heading out.
'Marlo, hold up a sec,' said Sharpie.
Feeling her heart sink, she figured she was in for a bollocking.
'Everything OK?' asked Sharpie, 'It's not like you to be late, or to grumble on like that. Normally you take it all in your stride.'
'Yeah, am fine. My stupid alarm didn't go off. Phone's been playing up for weeks, am about due my upgrade so I'll pop down when we're off and look at getting a new one. Sorry.' She wasn’t lying; her phone had been playing up. Just not today.
'It's fine: as long as you're OK. You know you can always talk to me if anything's up.'
'I know, Sharpie, thanks.'
'Go on then, go suit up, I'll be down in a bit.'
Marlo made her way down to the wet room and paused as she heard the rest of the team talking inside.
'… she's never late, Fiver says she was out getting laid.' Mac's voice resonated around the corridor.
'Nah, she's gay isn't she? That's what I heard when I started?' said Connor.
'Gay? Buck? I don't think so. I'm totally happy with my missus, but if I was ten years younger and single I'd tap that.' Doc sounded almost wistful as he put in his two-penn’orth.
Deciding to do a little ribbing of her own, Marlo pushed the door open and put her hands on her hips, her best pissed off expression on her face. They all had the good grace to look embarrassed.
'Not gay, didn't get laid, and, Doc? You'd need to be a lot more than ten years younger and single to tap this,' she grinned and did a quick spin, 'besides, you guys are like family. You don't tap family.'
'Never a truer word spoken,' said Mac, coming over and flinging his arm around her shoulder.
'So,' he whispered conspiratorially, 'why were you late?'
'Ladies’ time,' she whispered back knowing full well which buttons to push, 'had to make sure my Tampax was in securely. Those little buggers are finicky.'
Mac went a little green around the gills. 'Errr,' he said, dropping his arm from her shoulder and stepping back. For someone who swam in the murky depths of the North East waterways, Mac was incredibly squeamish. Leaving her side, he pushed open the door to the yard. 'I'll go sort the RIB.'
'Right, are we set?' came Sharpie's voice from the doorway.
The journey back to the launch point at Seaham Harbour was quiet; the mood in the 4x4 unusually sombre. Sharpie had eventually turned the radio on to cover the silence. The last song cut out mid-sentence as he pulled the key from the ignition.
'Quick as we can, the sooner we find him, the sooner we get our rest days.'
The wind ripped at them as the RIB sped to the buoy and slowed to a stop. No sooner had they slowed, the heavens opened and icy rain started falling down. Doc and Connor worked quickly, prepping to dive while Marlo hooked up the lines and checked the pressure.
It was going to be another long day.
13th November, 1005 hours - Ryhope, Sunderland
Nita groaned as her mind pulled her from unconsciousness. She'd barely even stirred since he'd thrown her inside the cage, but now her body reminded her of what had happened.
As she struggled to open her eyes, pain burst to life in places she didn't even know she had. Her chest crunched and hurt with every breath in. She cried out as she tried to sit, and gave it up as a bad job when she accidentally put weight on her injured wrist. It hurt so much that she felt physically sick, and without being able to stop it, she turned her head and feebly threw up on the floor of the cage.
Time to Play (North East Police) Page 15
