by GS Rhodes
He booked a little bit of time off work, telling a few lies here and there to get away with leaving. He hadn’t managed to do it as quickly as he’d wanted, paperwork needed to be finished from a previous case and other things needed to be finalised, his feet had got really itchy really fast. But he’d managed to get down here, and he’d managed to keep it from everybody too. The last thing he needed was people at work prying into his personal life or knowing that he was still hanging onto this.
Only his good friend and colleague, Detective Sergeant Zoe Sanchez, knew where he really was. Not even John, the man he was currently seeing, knew that he was off looking for a vanished ex. Kidd didn’t think it would go down well and it was easier not to have to explain. Unsurprisingly, Zoe hadn’t thought that to be such a good idea. Ben opted to ignore her.
This was somewhere that Ben knew quite well. He and Craig had come down here for a short holiday. It was a bit of a shithole but they’d just wanted to be seaside and they’d decided to start here, spending their days on the beach, obnoxiously riding the rollercoasters like they were teenagers again, Kidd actually managing to take his mind off work for five minutes because he’d been here with Craig.
He shook the memories from his head. They’d followed the trail down here and it had ultimately gone cold. They’d gone to the cafe that Craig had been spotted at in the CCTV but the owner didn’t have anything else for them to go on.
What did I think was going to happen? he thought. That I would get here and Craig would be waiting? He shook his head again. Whatever was happening with Craig was complicated enough that he’d vanished, and complicated enough that he hadn’t gotten in contact with any of his family.
Kidd wanted to help, whatever it was. He just needed to find Craig before he got into any more trouble.
“Ben?” Andrea asked. She was looking at him, her eyes wide and hopeful. She’d been looking for Craig for two years and finally felt like they were making progress. Him not being here waiting for them was a knock-back.
“We’ve looked,” he said, turning his attention back out to the sea. “We’ve been into every cafe, every shop along on the seafront and no one has been any help.” He took another sip of the tea-coloured water. He didn’t want to throw it away in front of Andrea but it really was dire. “I think it might be time to call it a day.”
Andrea nodded and took up the spot next to him. “I don’t know what I was thinking,” she said. “I…it’s silly. I almost thought it would be easier than all this.”
“Was he this good at hide-and-seek as a kid?”
“I don’t know if we ever played it,” she replied.
“I get the impression you would have lost,” Kidd replied. Andrea laughed, though he could tell that her heart wasn’t in it.
Craig was the thing that connected the two of them. They both wanted to find him more than anything. Andrea, because she’d been searching for the past two years and she wanted her brother to still be alive. Kidd, because he wanted to save Craig from whatever had made him vanish. He didn’t know if he would be able to do that, but he was certainly going to try.
A sign would be nice, he thought. A clue as to where you could have gone next. I’ll take whatever you can offer.
His phone started to ring in his pocket. There was a part of him that expected to see Craig’s name across the front of the screen, but that would have been a touch too creepy, that much was for sure. Instead, it said DS Sanchez. He knew that this couldn’t be good.
“Sorry,” he said to Andrea. “Work.”
“Take your time,” she said.
Kidd walked away, wandering a little closer to the beach. He took a seat on the sea wall before he answered the phone.
“Hey, Zoe,” he said. “How’s things?”
“I think I should be the one to ask you that, shouldn’t I?” she replied. “Though you don’t sound all that chipper, even for you. No luck?”
“Trail’s gone cold,” he replied flatly, silently cursing himself for not getting down here quicker. “I thought maybe it would lead to something else, somewhere else for me to go and find him, you know? But there isn’t a thing.”
“Do you know where he was staying?”
“No,” he said. “He must have been on his own, and from what I can tell at least, he didn’t talk to anybody enough to make an impression.” It was the mark of a man running from something, that much was for sure.
“You know, you could bring this up with DCI Weaver,” she said. It was something she had mentioned before. Kidd had opted to ignore it. “If you have evidence that he’s still alive and still out there, you could reopen the case and find him officially instead of using your holiday to go gallivanting off to Essex in search of your long lost love.”
“Wow, quite a picture of me you’re painting there, Zoe.”
“Tell me where the lie is,” she said, flatly. “I’m just saying. I’d like to help. I’m sure the police could—”
“It’s like you’ve said to me before,” Kidd said. “If he wanted to be found, he would have shown up by now. If he’s running, he’s running from something and I want to know what. I want to help if I can.”
“And what if that help gets you in trouble too?” she asked.
Kidd thought about it. He didn’t really want to think about it if he was honest with himself. He just wanted him safe. He wasn’t sure he cared what the cost was to do that.
“Why did you call me, Zoe?” he asked.
“Desperate for a subject change?”
“A little,” he replied. “But you’re calling out of the blue, I can’t imagine this is just you checking up on me. And I’m sure things haven’t been that bad there without me.”
“They’ve been fine without you,” she said. “Quiet, in fact, except for DC Campbell being able to get away with running his mouth every second of the day because you’re not here to verbally slap some sense into him.”
“But?”
“How did you know there’s a but?”
“There’s always a but,” Kidd replied.
“DCI Weaver wants you back as soon as you’re able,” Zoe said. “Things are about to get interesting.”
Kidd didn’t like the sound of that.
CHAPTER THREE
Within four hours, Benjamin Kidd had checked out of his hotel, said his goodbyes to Andrea and the not-so-sunny southern coast, and made his way back to Kingston. He didn’t bother heading home first, not quite ready to face the emptiness of his house, and just headed straight to the police station. He wasn’t dressed for work but he was certainly keen to get started. Finding Craig would have to wait.
He checked himself in the rearview mirror. His light brown hair had that “fresh from the seaside” look, like the salt had given it a little too much body. His eyes looked tired. Though they still had that bright green about them, they were being dragged down by heavy bags. He’d not slept all that much. How was he supposed to? Deciding there was nothing for it, he climbed out, slammed the door, and crossed the parking lot.
As he walked into the station, Diane immediately looked up from her position at the front desk, her face crinkling into a smile so big she looked like she was about to burst.
“DI Kidd!” she said. “How wonderful to see you, I thought you were away.” Diane was the Station Reception Officer at Kingston Police Station. The kindest woman that Kidd had ever met. She prided herself on knowing absolutely everything that was going on and most of the time it proved useful, but it was also nice to feel like someone was happy to see you.
“I was,” he replied, offering her a smile. “They just couldn’t keep me away from you Diane, I missed you too much.”
Her cheeks went a little pink as she continued to smile at him. “Now, now,” she said. “Did you have a good break? Zoe tells me you took a holiday.”
He smiled. “Something like that,” he replied. “It was good. Went down to the seaside, just nice to get away.”
“Oh you’re telling me,” she s
aid. “Every morning I come back here and think of how I’m going to go and see the world when I retire. First class all the way.”
“You deserve it,” Kidd said, heading over to the staff door and buzzing himself inside with his key card. “Talk to you later, Diane.”
Diane had worked there for as long as Kidd could remember. She was one of many station officers that worked in Kingston Police Station but she was the only one that Kidd really liked. The rest of them were there to do their job, Diane seemed to be there to make friends and do a damn good job while she was at it. She was irreplaceable and he was certain the place would fall apart when she retired.
He made his way down the corridor, heading straight for DCI Weaver’s office instead of the Incident Room. When Zoe had told him what was going on, she had said that the first thing to do would be to talk to Weaver who had all the details. Her call was a heads up as well as a call to get him to come back. This one was going to be tricky.
He knocked on Weaver’s door, a grunt rumbling from inside telling him to come in.
“Afternoon,” Kidd said as he stepped inside.
DCI Patrick Weaver was sat behind his desk, his light blue shirt straining over his muscular shoulders, his face a little bit red, though not quite as red as his hair. He was on the phone and pointed to the seat across from him.
“Thank you, Superintendent Charles,” he said. “We’re on it, trust me, don’t worry about a thing.” He was putting on a cheerful voice, which didn’t really suit him. Kidd was used to the growling Scottish accent, not the soft lilt as he tried to impress his boss. Changing to impress people wasn’t really Kidd’s style…which was probably why he wasn’t often on Weaver’s good side.
Superintendent Charles was someone that, thankfully, DI Kidd didn’t cross paths with all that often. Much like Weaver, who often got himself out of the way and let Kidd and his team solve a case, Charles did the same with Weaver. Though, if something was particularly high profile, he would step in and give Weaver a hard time, which meant Kidd got a hard time. He didn’t want to pass it down any further, but DC Owen Campbell was sometimes a pretty easy target for such things.
Weaver put the phone down and let out a heavy breath as he sat back in his office chair. He looked worn out, like the weight of that outward breath would drag him straight through the seat and into Hell. Kidd wondered just how long he had been on the phone with the Supt.
“Afternoon, sir,” Kidd said as he took the seat across from Weaver. “How are things?”
“Dire,” he replied, though there was a slight twinkle in his eye that betrayed his obvious frustrations and tiredness. “Did you have a good break? Sanchez said something about the seaside.”
“Just a little time away from everything,” Kidd replied.
“Did you go with your fella?” he asked.
The problem with people in the office knowing you had “a fella” was that they asked about him. And the line between the personal and professional became ever more blurred. He didn’t want to mention Craig to Weaver. If he did, he knew it would cause no end of trouble. He’d be signed off again before he could even blink.
“Not this time,” Kidd said. “Just needed a bit of time away from everything.”
“Work getting to you that much?”
Kidd raised an eyebrow. “You’d know better than most,” he said, his gaze flicking to the phone and then back to his boss. “What was all that about on the phone?”
“Superintendent Charlies being…well…being himself,” Weaver said. He turned his gaze to the file that was on his desk. “This one is quite something. You sure you’re ready for it?”
Kidd sat back in his chair, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’d be more than happy to go home and finish out my holiday,” he said. “You’re the one who called me back. What are we dealing with?”
He passed the file to Kidd. He took a breath before he flicked it open, the first page shocking enough that it pulled the breath right out of him. The room seemed to spin before it settled and he really took in the photograph.
“Christ on a bike,” Kidd breathed.
There was a man lying next to a path, trees on either side, what looked like the fencing at the bottom of someone’s garden behind him. There was dirt all around him, blood too, it looked like he’d tried to get away but…he clearly hadn’t made it all that far. His throat had been cut, and there were multiple stab wounds made across his chest and stomach. It wasn’t something Kidd hadn’t seen before, though. Whenever he saw a cut throat his first thought was The Grinning Murders. How could it not be?
There was another photograph inside, a small Polaroid. The man in the photo, who matched the man who was lying dead, was caught off guard, mid-blink. His face was twisted into a look of surprise, perhaps he recognised the person behind the camera, perhaps it was the shock of the flash in his face. Whatever it was, the moments following this didn’t end well for him. Timeline wise, it wasn’t too difficult to figure out the chain of events here.
Someone followed this guy down an alleyway in—he checked the file—Twickenham, and then surprised him with the photo. What followed was the bloodbath the forensics team had photographed.
“Tell me more,” Kidd said.
“James Blythe,” Weaver said. “Twenty-six years old, found dead in Twickenham, not too far from the stadium on Saturday night. He was jumped by the looks of things.”
“No one heard?”
“We’ve got PCs knocking on doors so I’ll keep you posted on that,” Weaver said. “This happened on Friday night. There was a match on at the stadium.”
“Fucks sake.”
“Right,” Weaver replied. “The pool of people that could be responsible just went up by about eighty thousand and spread itself halfway across the country, which is nice.”
“You think it was something to do with that? Gang related?”
Weaver shook his head. “It looks too precise,” he replied.
Kidd turned his attention back to the file. He was right, of course. If it was gang-related or was a random murder, which didn’t happen all that often, they wouldn’t go to the trouble of slitting the throat and stabbing the person, they’d want them dead as quick as possible. They also wouldn’t go to the trouble of leaving a calling card.
Kidd had to suppress an all too familiar chill running down his spine. It had the hallmarks of someone wanting to play serial killer. It’s what they would have read in books and seen on TV, people having a style, a way they do things. Kidd had seen it with The Grinning Murders and with other murders since then. He wouldn’t be surprised if they had another body on their hands soon if they didn’t act quickly.
“What do you think?” Weaver asked. “You up for it?”
Kidd took a breath. It would be a welcome distraction, that much was for sure, but he knew that Weaver wasn’t really asking. He brought him back from his holiday early for a reason. There was only one answer he could give.
“Of course I am, boss,” he replied. “Best get started.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Kidd gathered the papers into the file, allowing himself one last glance at the photograph before closing it. He felt sorry for the poor bastard in the photo. He was probably out having a nice night and then…
Kidd shook his head. Another life cut short. He made that same silent vow he seemed to make every time he was presented with a new body, with a new case. He would figure it out. Justice would prevail. It had to.
He made his way down the corridor, heading to the usual Incident Room where his team would be waiting for him, more than likely, already at work under the strict supervision of DS Zoe Sanchez. She would have started things off, likely to have been the one to get the PCs knocking on doors. Kidd couldn’t imagine Weaver suggesting that.
He opened the door to the Incident Room, his team waiting for him, already at their desks working hard while he’d been away on his own case, of sorts. DC Powell was placing things on the evidence board, his fac
e quickly twisting into a smile as Kidd walked in. DC Ravel was on the phone, her black hair pulled back into a tight bun, as per usual, offering him a single salute. And DC Campbell had half a croissant hanging out of his mouth as he typed something up on his computer—so no change there.
“Evening boss!” he called, spraying crumbs all across his desk. Kidd suppressed a shudder. At least he wouldn’t be cleaning that up. He ignored the crack about it being evening and checked his watch. It wasn’t that late.
“What the hell time do you call this?” DS Zoe Sanchez called from the far side of the room. She was at her desk, her curly brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, a smirk playing on her lips. “Glad you decided to show up.”
“Happy to cut my holiday short, not about to let you have all the fun,” Kidd said. No one else in the team knew where he’d been apart from Zoe.
He’d finished the paperwork for their previous case and had left as soon as humanly possible. He hadn’t known how long Craig would be in Essex, or if he was still going to be there. The disappointment when it turned out he was likely long gone was enough to make him wish he’d palmed the paperwork off onto Campbell. How long had they missed him by? A couple of days? It infuriated him.
“How’s everything going here?” Kidd asked.
“Well, DC Ravel is just on the phone to the pathologist, trying to get them to speed it up and send her the bloody report so we can get going on this,” Sanchez said. “Powell is setting up the evidence board, and Campbell…is eating what might be his fifth croissant of the day?”
“Sixth,” he said, spraying more crumbs everywhere. The man was an animal. “They were reduced in Sainsbury’s.”
“Fucking hell,” Kidd grumbled. He walked over to DC Powell, handing him the file for him to add to the evidence board. There was a picture of James Blythe in the middle already, one that had probably been provided by a social media search, with anything else they’d managed to get so far arranged around it. It was an empty-looking board, and an empty board made Kidd nervous.
