Time to Play (North East Police) (33 page)

The man Elvie had mentioned, Gaz, was in the wind. He hadn't been at the house with the girls. Unease settled in Ali’s stomach: Gaz appeared to be Rocko’s second-in-command. He needed to be found. As did the house containing the female, Yolanda, that Elvie had spoken of. The voter’s roll checks had brought forth only two living in the force area, and intelligence on both of them had been sparse. Charlie was running down the addresses now.

Alex had returned to the hospital to see if Connor was ready for interview and to check on Rocko, leaving Ali to finish up the paperwork and handover. It had been a long day, but he had to admit it felt good too. Rescuing the girls had definitely been the positive outcome he had hoped for – it was too late for the girls in the reservoir but at least some had been saved.

Frowning, he knew there would be locations like that all over the UK in a similar state, filled with girls like those. All he could hope, though, was that the National Crime Agency would be able to piece together additional contacts and locations and use it all to locate and assist more of them. Funnily enough, he'd heard on the news earlier that a container filled with about forty people had been discovered. He'd once thought that human trafficking wouldn't affect him in his role but now it seemed suddenly to be coming to the forefront.

Before he took the files down to handover to the DI coming on duty, he hit send on the email to both his and Alex's teams calling a joint strategy meeting the next day. He had no intention of being in that meeting. If he didn't take a day off he'd go insane. Besides, he had to visit immigration with Elvie. There was no getting out of it this time.

20th November, 1505 hours - High Dependency Unit, Sunderland Royal Hospital

Connor had sensed Alex sitting by the bed ages ago. He'd come round a little more over the course of the afternoon and the nurse had reduced his morphine dose. He no longer had the push button and had it administered intermittently instead. He'd been trying to pretend to be unconscious so Alex would just leave it all until the next day, but his tactic hadn't worked. He knew Alex was there for the duration.

Slowly he opened his eyes.

'’Bout time you stopped pretending, mate,' said Alex, looking up from his newspaper, 'I get it, though, don't worry. Trouble is, professional standards are coming tomorrow, and I wanted to see you first, get your version of events.'

'You mean find out if I'm dirty,' said Connor.

'Aye, that too,' replied Alex with a nod. 'Are you?'

'Depends on your definition, I guess. You need to understand something, though; I did what I did because Fred would've hurt my whole family. He held every single card and he knew it. He would've put Mum and Dad out on the streets, forced Marie to leave uni. I didn't have the money to pay for her uni and their house as well as mine. I know it sounds cowardly, I know I shouldn't have done it. But I didn't feel like I had a choice.'

'What are we talking about here, Connor? What didn't you have a choice about?'

'I gave Fred intel. Nothing major, just dates of drugs busts and what not, and where I could I fabricated it. He told me he'd hurt us all if I didn't.'

'OK, and you're gunna stick to that with standards. You tell them the whole truth, OK? No covering up, no lies, tell it like it was. Wanna tell me what happened in the shed now?'

'Dunno where to start. I just thought Dad was pottering down there. My mum has Alzheimer's and she was sitting in the window, quiet as a mouse. I just thought she was having a good day. I'd never been in his shed before. I didn't expect – I mean, I didn't know he –' Connor broke off, emotion clogging his throat.

'I’m sorry, Connor, I need to know what happened.'

'Dad had hung himself. I walked in the door and he was just swinging there. I knew he was dead, you know? But I still needed to try and help him, was going to give him CPR. But Fred wouldn't let me. He threw Dad's note at me. Laughed when I read it. He did it. He killed the girls we pulled out of the reservoir. My own dad. Though he's not really my dad, and that makes it even worse. Fred's my dad. I never had a chance. The man I thought was my dad is a killer, and the man I thought was my horrible criminal uncle is actually my dad. It's fucked up.'

'You just found this out? What happened then?’

‘I pulled out my phone to call the control room – I couldn't do it anymore, couldn't cover for any of them. I know my job’s over, there's no way prof standards will let me stay now. I dialled, and Fred lost it.’ Connor closed his eyes for a minute then opened them again. ‘He came at me with a knife. I pushed him away, tried to get him to stop. But he kept coming. It was like he was possessed. He didn't want me to tell, wanted me to help him cover it all up. I grabbed the only thing I could, didn't even know what it was. I hit him, and I killed him. Told you it was fucked up.'

'Killed him? Connor, Fred isn't dead. He's a few rooms along the corridor. And from the sounds of it, it was self-defence.'

The blood drained from Connor's face. 'Alive? But he can't be. He dropped like a stone. I hit him so hard.'

'Honestly, he's alive. I wouldn't lie, Connor.'

'Jesus. I'm fucked. He'll kill me. He ran it all. Gave the girls to Dad, knew everything that was going on. Marie can barely even look at me. She blames me. She's right. I could've stopped it years ago. I thought moving back up here from the Midlands would stop it, sever the ties once and for all. But Fred followed. Blackmailed me for info. I didn't know what to do.'

'You should've told someone, Connor, let us help you. As it stands, it'll be down to professional standards now. Everything will be taken into account though. Your mum's safe, by the way. She's in a council-run home over on the other side of the river. Marie's been staying at the Premier Inn. Make sure you pass all the information you know on Fred over: it will help your case. I shouldn't really be here, but I wanted you to know what was going on and I wanted your side of the story. That said I'd better make tracks. You did the right thing in the end, Connor. Try not to let all this eat you up.'

Alex left, and Connor realised he actually felt a little relieved. For the first time in a long time, he felt like a weight had been lifted. He wasn't being controlled like some puppet on a very short string. Whatever came of the professional standards investigation, he'd make sure he was OK. Him, Marie and his mum were all that mattered now.  

20
^th
November, 1835 hours – High Dependency Unit, Sunderland Royal Hospital

Marlo stuck her head around the door to Connor’s room, finding him awake but staring vacantly out of the window.

‘Hey,’ she said softly, trying not to scare him. She wasn’t sure he’d heard her come into the room. He jumped then winced as he turned to face her. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump. How’re you doing?’

Connor shrugged, ‘OK, I guess. Just sitting here doing bugger all. They won’t let me go home.’

‘That’s kind of understandable. You were stabbed, guess they need to monitor you.’

He looked really sad as he shrugged again and said, ‘I know. Just hate hospitals is all.’

‘Oh quit your whingeing, you’re alive. That’s what counts. Sitting there doing naff all for a few weeks beats being dead any day. You were lucky from the sounds of it.’

‘Depends on your definition of luck,’ grumbled Connor.

‘Hey, enough already,’ Marlo’s voice was strict and she almost groaned as she realised how very ‘school ma’am’ she sounded. ‘I don’t care how much it hurts now, you’re still here. Pull your head out of your arse and be grateful.’

Connor had the grace to look contrite, but didn’t speak.

‘Look,’ she continued, softening her tone, ‘I know you’ve got it tough at the minute. I don’t know the ins and outs and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you’re not alone here, Connor. You have friends and family who care for you. Whatever your mistakes, you’re a nice guy. If you need a friend, I’m here.’

Connor’s eyes filled at her kind words, all the stress catching up on him suddenly. Tears fell, and embarrassed, he swiped at them with the back of his hand.

‘Sorry, it’s just – I can’t –’

‘We all cry, there’s nothing to be ashamed of in that, Connor.’ Marlo handed him a tissue.

She was so focussed on Connor that she didn’t even register the door behind her had been pushed open.

She heard Connor cry out, and then everything seemed to start moving in slow motion. Marlo half-turned towards the door, and felt something hard hit the side of her head. Gravity defied her as she toppled forwards, not even having the time to put out her hands to stop herself from face-planting onto the floor.

Rivers of red ran through her eyes as she fought to stay conscious, and vaguely she heard Connor cry out again. Forcing herself to her knees, she made out a blurred form through the blood covering her eyes. The figure had Connor by the throat, and somewhere in her mind, she thought he was wearing a hospital gown.

Knowing Connor needed her help, she pulled herself up using the bed rails. Her legs wobbled as she fought the wave of nausea that swept over her. Carefully she pulled herself round the bed to the side where the male grappled with Connor. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she tried to focus.

The man definitely wore a hospital gown, and he had his hands around Connor’s throat, squeezing hard, pure hatred shining in his eyes. He’d not even registered that Marlo had stood up. Which she knew worked to her advantage. She manoeuvred herself around the bed, and once behind the man, she used her training and quickly grabbed him in a choke-hold, kicking at the back of his knees to displace his weight.

His roar was primal and he let go of Connor and grabbed at Marlo’s hands. Pushing himself back to his feet, he threw himself backwards in an effort to release her hold. Marlo’s back smashed into the ledge around the base of the window and she grunted as pain burst across the base of her spine. She kept hold, though.

He bent double suddenly, trying to throw her over his head, but she was ready and had adjusted her own weight to compensate.

She heard him gurgle, his air supply cut off by the force of her arm against the front of his throat, and she knew he was starting to weaken. If she could just keep hold, then maybe he’d lose consciousness. Which was precisely what she couldn’t do. Even now, the corners of her mind were screaming at her to stop, to give up and embrace the darkness that threatened, but she couldn’t. Not yet.

He scratched at her arms, his too-long fingernails gouging welts into her skin, but still she held on.
Is he ever going to go down? What the hell is Connor doing?

Marlo’s hold slipped even before she realised she’d allowed herself to become distracted and her attacker was ready. He tried to spin round as her legs collapsed on her and she sank to the floor, but she somehow managed to land in a tangle of mixed arms and legs.

Realising he was free, he rose to his feet, and booted Marlo hard to the ribs. She was sure she felt one crack under the impact, and braced herself for another impact.

It didn’t come.

She lifted her head and glanced up, but her vision was so blurred all she could see was a shadow sweep past her and slam the man into the wall at the back of the hospital room. Marlo shook her head, trying to rid herself of this incessant dizziness.

‘That’s blood on my arm… it’s my blood… oh, crap…’ the words had started with a hint of wonder but the second she realised it was her own blood, her head hit the floor as she fainted. Again.

Chapter Thirty-One

20
^th
November, 1845 hours – High Dependency Unit, Sunderland Royal Hospital

The last thing Ali had expected to see on entering Connor’s room was Connor gasping for breath, and a blood-covered Marlo grappling with Fred Rockingham on the floor. Panic almost knocked him for six, and he’d seen Marlo start to sink to the floor. The crack her ribs had made when Fred had kicked her had reverberated around the room, and he’d felt his breath catch.

Then the anger had arrived.

He’d all but flown around the bed and used his whole body weight to slam Rockingham into the wall behind the head of Connor’s bed.

Now he stood with his arm jabbed up into the man’s throat, practically daring him to fight back. ‘Calm the fuck down,’ he said. How he was managing to maintain control of his temper he didn’t know, but he was doing his best. Fred struggled beneath his arm, and in one movement, Ali spun Fred around and shoved his face into the wall. ‘In case you hadn’t gathered,’ he panted as he pushed Fred’s arm up his back, ‘You’re nicked. Now calm the fuck down before I put you down,’ said Ali firmly.

Fred was spent though. He sagged in his hospital gown beneath Ali’s grip and whispered, ‘It’s over.’ His head shook as though he couldn’t quite believe it.

‘What the…’ Alex’s astounded voice came from the doorway. ‘I go for coffee and come back to… What the hell is all this?’

‘Take him, Alex. Get him the hell out of my sight. I need to check on Marlo.’

‘Bitch deserved it,’ muttered Fred, his muscles tensing beneath Ali’s grip.

‘Don’t bother yourself,’ Alex’s voice was calm as he took over his brother’s hold on Fred and pushed him towards the hospital room door. ‘Like he said, you’re nicked. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say…’ Alex’s voice faded as he took Fred down the corridor.

‘A little help here,’ shouted Ali, kneeling beside Marlo.

20
^th
November, 1920 hours – Sunderland Royal Hospital

Marlo groaned and opened her eyes. Her head felt like it was splitting in two, and the light was as sharp as a pin.

‘Christ,’ she said, trying to sit up.

The movement caused the room to tilt sideways, and her head flopped back down to the pillow.