The Rock: A DCI Ryan Mystery (The DCI Ryan Mysteries Book 18)

by LJ Ross

  “Luckily, that’s precisely what we’ve all signed up to do,” he said. “So, here’s the plan: Lowerson, Yates? I want the pair of you to investigate the shipping angle. Look into routes and any other historic information on that score, past busts and whatever else you can find.”

  They nodded, and made a swift note.

  “Frank? I want you to focus on the local angle. See what the word is, on the street.”

  “Happy to,” he said, and knew the first place he would try.

  Ryan appointed a reader-receiver, and dished out a few other administrative roles.

  “The rest of you, I want to piece together a comprehensive picture. Assume this is part of a broader scheme, which we’re only just beginning to unravel. I want no stone left unturned. Go over closed cases and, furthermore, I want you to unearth reports that were made but not followed up. It’s a lot of work, granted, but there might be a key in there, somewhere, that we’ve overlooked. It’s because of that lack of focus that trafficking operations continue to flourish and—as the saying goes—not on my bloody watch.”

  They broke into smiles, and he was relieved to know that morale was high. He only hoped it would last, because there was no telling how long a case like this could drag out.

  “Well? What are you waiting for? Let’s get cracking.”

  CHAPTER 13

  After the briefing, Ryan’s team spent another hour working their way through the various statements and other pertinent information they had amassed throughout the day, before deciding to call it a night.

  “Howay,” Frank said, stretching his arms above his head. “It’s Saturday night, and there’s nowt more we can usefully do, this evenin’. Why don’t we head down to the pub for a swift one? What d’ you say, love?”

  MacKenzie tried to remember the last time they’d been free to have an adult beverage that had been poured by someone else.

  “Why not,” she said. “It’s been a long day, we’ve put in a good stretch, and Sam’s staying at her friend’s house, tonight. I fancy a glass of something fruity.”

  “Jack? Mel? What about you two love birds?”

  “What do you reckon, Mel? Shall we have a quick one?”

  Yates glanced across at Ryan, who was on the phone to his wife, and swallowed a constriction in her throat.

  “Sounds great,” she said, brightly. “Count us in.”

  “That’s the ticket!” Phillips said, and rubbed his hands together. He happened to know it was karaoke night down at their local, and it had been too long since he’d treated the company to a rendition of Sweet Caroline.

  At that moment, Ryan ended his call and leaned back in his chair, yawning widely.

  “What about you, lad? Fancy joining us down the road for a hot toddy?”

  Yates hated herself for caring so much about his answer, and for the immediate disappointment when he shook his head.

  “Not tonight, Frank. Anna’s been home all day with Emma, and she’s due a break.” Besides, he missed them both. “Have one for me.”

  He bade them all a fond farewell and, soon after, the foursome set off to walk the short distance to their nearest pub. Phillips and Lowerson fell into conversation about football, and Yates was glad to find herself in the company of MacKenzie, whose wisdom and advice she trusted implicitly.

  Keeping an eye on the two men, who walked a short distance ahead, she cleared her throat and wondered how to broach the subject that was uppermost in her mind.

  She needn’t have bothered.

  “Why don’t you just spit it out?” MacKenzie said, keeping her voice down. “What’s on your mind, Mel? Have you and Jack had an argument?”

  Yates might have laughed.

  “No, we haven’t—at least, nothing worth mentioning,” she amended. All couples argued from time to time, but she wasn’t worried about that. “Um, it’s just—Denise, is it normal to find yourself…sort of, attracted to other men, even when you’re with somebody else?”

  “Well, Lord knows, I love none but Frank,” MacKenzie said, putting a hand on her heart. “But, as the Lord also knows, if that Henry Cavill came knockin’ on my door, you’d best believe I’d ask him to stay for dinner and dessert.”

  She let out a bawdy laugh which, ordinarily, would have elicited a laugh from her friend, but the best Yates could manage was a weak smile.

  “Just how attracted are we talkin’ here?”

  Dreams, hot, sweaty dreams, Yates thought, with a fresh stab of guilt.

  “Um, quite a bit, I suppose.”

  “I see,” MacKenzie said, and she did see, quite clearly. “I’m guessing the object of this, ah, attraction, is one person in particular?”

  Yates nodded, miserably.

  “Oh, Mel—”

  “I know,” she muttered, and was glad to see the men had already entered the pub ahead of them. “Believe me, I don’t want to be having these thoughts. I love Jack, for goodness’ sake!”

  She turned to her friend with wide, panicked eyes.

  “We just bought a house together,” she hissed. “So, why am I thinking about somebody else?”

  “Look, it’s normal to get cold feet, sometimes,” MacKenzie said, although, she had to admit, she’d never experienced that with Frank. “You’ve both had a rocky start and it probably feels like a big step, moving in together with your names on the title deed.”

  Yates seemed unconvinced, so MacKenzie decided to take the bull by the horns.

  “Look, Mel, I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that Ryan is already very happily married,” she said, with just a touch of steel. “And I know you like and respect Anna as much as we all do.”

  Yates was mortified.

  “Oh, God, Denise, I know all of that—Anna couldn’t be nicer! I’d never want to do anything to jeopardise their relationship, or mine.”

  MacKenzie nearly remarked that Ryan would hardly have given her the chance, but held her tongue.

  “It’s just so embarrassing…” Melanie whispered. “I don’t know what to do about it. I thought I was well and truly over that daft crush I had, when I first joined the team.”

  MacKenzie searched her friend’s face, and was worried.

  “Look, sweetheart, you’re going to have to do some soul-searching, here,” she said, and put a motherly arm around her shoulders. “If you let this silly infatuation get the better of you, there’s an awful lot you stand to lose. Not only Jack, but your place on the team—”

  Mel looked up in surprise.

  “Do you think Ryan would keep you around, if he found out what you’ve just told me? He expects professionalism, at all times, even amongst friends—and, frankly, I wouldn’t blame him, if he were to arrange a transfer for you. It’s what I would do, in his position.”

  “Do you think he suspects?” Yates asked, tremulously.

  MacKenzie shook her head.

  “I’m quite sure he has no idea.”

  Despite his physical attributes, she knew that Ryan was not a man who walked through life assuming he had anywhere near the kind of effect on the opposite sex that he so obviously did. If he knew the reality, the poor man would probably never leave his house.

  “That’s something,” Yates muttered, and was silent for a long moment, thinking of all that MacKenzie had said, which was only the truth.

  “It isn’t fair to Jack,” MacKenzie added, for completeness. “But, you know that already.”

  “I do,” Melanie agreed. “And, it isn’t as though we don’t lead a happy life together. In fact, in many ways, I’ve never been happier. But—”

  “Yes,” MacKenzie said, sadly. “But.”

  By now, they had reached the doorway to the pub, and Yates found she’d lost all appetite for a social tipple.

  “Thanks for the advice, Denise, I really appreciate it. Would you—can you just tell them I have a bit of a headache, and I’ve gone home? Tell Jack not to rush back, he should enjoy himself.”

  Without giving MacKenzie any time to
argue, she turned and walked swiftly back in the direction of the police car park, swiping away sudden tears which rained down her cheeks.

  MacKenzie watched her young friend hurry back along the lane and realised there was a much bigger question that remained unanswered.

  Did she really love Jack Lowerson?

  Only time would tell.

  * * *

  When she stepped inside the warm pub, MacKenzie found her husband guarding a small round table set for four, while tapping the toe of his boot to The Bee Gees, which were playing on the sound system.

  “Where’s Jack?” she asked, unable to see him amid the crowd of Saturday night revellers.

  “He insisted on gettin’ the first round,” Phillips said, with a smile. “I said you’d have a glass of red—how’s that?”

  “Perfect,” she said, and hoped it was a large one.

  “Here, where’s Mel?”

  “She went home,” MacKenzie said. “She wasn’t feeling up to it, after all.”

  “Ah, that’s a pity,” Frank said, with genuine feeling. “It’s been a long day, I s’pose.”

  “Mmm,” she said.

  “Here we are!” Lowerson sang out, as he set four glasses on the table. “Has Mel gone to the Ladies’?”

  “No, she said she had a bit of a headache and that she’d see you back at home,” MacKenzie told him.

  Instantly concerned, he began to reach for his coat.

  “I’d better get back and see if she’s feeling all right—”

  MacKenzie put a staying hand on his arm.

  “Honestly, Jack, I think she just needs a bit of time alone,” she said, truthfully. “She said you should have a good time.”

  “Well…” he said, uncertainly. “I’ll drop her a text, just to make sure.”

  Once that was done, he looked between the pair of them.

  “I feel like the third wheel, now,” he complained.

  “Not at all, son,” Phillips assured him. “It’s not often we get to share a pint with a friend, these days. Parenthood is busy work.”

  “You two do it so well,” Lowerson said, with a smile. “I hope I’ll get to be a dad, some day.”

  MacKenzie took a sip of her drink and eyed him over the rim.

  “How does Mel feel about having children?”

  “I—come to think of it, we haven’t really talked about it,” Lowerson realised, and made a mental note to rectify that, as soon as possible. “I hope she feels the same way I do because…well, I think she’s the one for me.”

  MacKenzie swallowed her wine with difficulty.

  “In fact,” Jack continued, with a private smile. “I was thinking of asking her to marry me.”

  She almost choked, at that.

  “To marry you?” MacKenzie squeaked.

  “That’s what the man said!” Phillips exclaimed. “That’s fantastic, lad. We’re so happy for you—for the pair of you.”

  “Well, I haven’t asked her, yet,” Lowerson said, nervously. “I don’t want to count my chickens.”

  MacKenzie couldn’t have said it better, herself.

  “When—when are you planning to ask her?” she wondered, and hoped he hadn’t bought a ring. “You haven’t been together that long…”

  “I was planning to ask her tomorrow, on Valentine’s Day,” he said, and MacKenzie was lost for words. “Then I remembered, it’s the anniversary of her sister’s death on Tuesday. I don’t know whether it would be the best timing.”

  “Yes,” MacKenzie said, clutching at the straw. “It might not be the best time, if she’s going to be reminded of her sister’s murder—don’t you agree, Frank?”

  But Phillips was blithely unaware of any undertone to her question, and failed to read the meaningful look in her eye.

  “I dunno, pet. I think it might be nice for her to have a happy memory around that time, to offset the bad ones.”

  MacKenzie could cheerfully have throttled him.

  “That’s a good point,” Jack said.

  “Yes,” she said, and glared at her husband. “But, all the same, why don’t you play things by ear? Maybe see how she’s feeling tomorrow? You’d want the timing to be perfect, wouldn’t you?”

  Jack nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘You’re right,” he said eventually. “No sense in rushing things. We’ve got all the time in the world, after all.”

  * * *

  At precisely the same moment Frank Phillips took charge of the karaoke mic, Ryan stepped inside his front door at Elsdon. Rather than finding Neil Diamond crooning on the radio, he heard the soft strains of Louis Armstrong coming from the direction of their living room.

  He hung up his coat, and followed the music.

  “Anna?”

  He found his wife swaying softly with their baby in her arms, the lights turned down low.

  “Ssh,” she whispered. “I’ve nearly got her over to sleep.”

  Ryan glanced over her shoulder at the baby, who lay comfortably against her shoulder with her eyes wide open.

  “Mm hmm,” he said, and grinned. “Want me to take over?”

  “Why don’t you join us?”

  Ryan did just that, transferring the child from her weary arms to rest against one shoulder, before holding out his other arm so that Anna could snuggle against the other. They swayed like that for a while, the three of them, as the music shifted from Louis to Ella Fitzgerald, and on to Bing Crosby, until Ryan felt his daughter’s tiny body slump against him, having fallen asleep at last.

  “I’ll take her up,” he whispered.

  Anna nodded, and sank onto the sofa with a grateful sigh. Though their child was by no means difficult, she was a bright little thing who seemed to have boundless energy. While she was pregnant, she was sure other mothers had advised her to sleep while her baby slept… but, what if the kid barely slept at all, day or night? It seemed that Emma hardly needed any rest before she was up and raring to go again—whether her parents were ready, or not.

  Still, these were special times, and Anna wouldn’t have changed a thing.

  “She’s tucked up,” Ryan said, re-entering the room. “Let’s see how long it lasts.”

  Anna smiled, and tipped her face up for a kiss.

  “How was your day?” she asked him.

  But Ryan was more interested in hearing about hers.

  “We’ll come on to that,” he said. “Why don’t you tell me how your day was, first?”

  Happy enough to oblige, Anna told him about their exploits, from ‘paint splodging’ to petting the horses at the nearby stables.

  “Emma loved the horses,” she said. “I’ve never seen her so excited.”

  “We’ll have to give her a ride on a miniature Shetland, when she’s a bit older,” he said. “Perhaps Sam would be able to teach her—she’ll be older, by then, too.”

  “Emma loves Samantha,” Anna said, with fondness. “She always has so much time for her, which is pretty good, for a twelve-year-old.”

  Ryan nodded, and then grinned.

  “I’m not sure how long that will last,” he said. “According to Frank, Sam has a date with a boy from school tomorrow.”

  Anna could imagine Phillips’ reaction to that, and chuckled.

  “So, I assume he’s been cobbling together an iron chastity belt,” she joked.

  “Drowning his sorrows in Newcastle Brown Ale and Barbra Streisand’s Greatest Hits, more like,” Ryan said, with another grin. “But, one day, that’ll be me, so I won’t laugh too loudly. Emma’s bound to grow up, one of these days.”

  “Not just yet,” Anna said, and gave him another kiss. “You can keep your shotgun locked away, for now.”

  Ryan thought of his little girl as a grown woman, and had only to look at his wife to imagine it.

  She’d be a beauty.

  Almost immediately, he thought of another woman whose beauty had been swept away by the tides, and a shadow crossed his face.

  Sensing it, Anna took his hand.


  “Tough day?”

  Ryan nodded.

  “No more so than any other, I suppose, but…” He rolled his shoulders to ease the ache. “I think it’s different for me, since having Emma. I see things from a different perspective, or maybe I feel it more keenly. We found somebody else’s daughter, today, and they don’t even know it yet.”

  “Can’t you contact them?”

  “It’s more a case of being unable to identify the victim,” he said. “Without an ID, we have no way of knowing where she comes from, or who her family might be.”

  Anna squeezed his hand.

  “You’ll find out,” she said. “You always do.”

  “I’ll do my best,” he qualified. “It isn’t always enough, when you’re battling against an unknown foe.”

  She gave him a quizzical look.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The whole thing—the wreck, the body—it reeks of organised crime,” he said. “They’re parasites, every last one of them. They prey upon the weak, and sleep soundly in their beds at night. Not only that, they’ve evolved so that it’s becoming harder and harder to detect the real honchos, the ones with the clout. We might pull in a couple of soldiers from time to time, but never the top dog.”

  “Try telling that to Bobby Singh,” she reminded him.

  “He was a rare exception,” Ryan said. “He’d been operating for years before we could bring him down. It’s the wasted time that makes it hard to bear.”

  “That’s because you always want everything done yesterday,” she said, and rested her head on his shoulder. “There are some people in life who will always look for a way to get one over, to skip a queue, to flout a law or further their own interests at the expense of others. I should know, I’ve spent my whole career reading about some of the most infamous operators around.”

  “Oh? Even worse than Jimmy the Manc?” Ryan said, with a playful smile. “Which historical figure could top him for nefarious deeds?”

  “Well, there was the Roman emperor Nero,” she said, off the top of her head. “He had homicidal tendencies, as did Genghis Khan, of course…then, there’s King John, who ruled England between 1199 and 1216. He tried to seize the throne while his brother, Richard the Lionheart, was away crusading, and had his own nephew murdered. Arthur had a better claim to the throne, you see.”