Time to Play (North East Police) (4 page)

Sharpie frowned, ‘I don’t like the sheer volume of water here. Getting you in the water, even with the lines, wouldn’t be safe. We’ll try and do a snag and bag. We can reassess once we’re in the RIB if need be.’

Marlo nodded. When the water was that bad it made sense to reduce the risk as much as possible.

‘Go suit up and help the team,’ said Sharpie with a nod. He turned back towards Ali and added, ‘Are we thinking murder?’

‘Won’t know ’til we get the body out. There’s a couple of missing persons outstanding but I think he’s too old; they’re both just teenagers. Maybe he’s a jumper. The sooner we get him out and make an ID the better. It’s getting later anyway. The last thing we need is more people having a heart attack.’

Sharpie looked at him, puzzled.

‘Sorry. The old boy that found him had a heart attack. He managed to get it rang in to the control room but then passed out. Doesn’t look good for him but he’s at the hospital now.’

‘Jesus. Poor fella.’

‘Are you wanting me on the RIB or the bank?’ asked Ali.

Sharpie raised an eyebrow – the DI knew boats? ‘Bank is fine. I’m gunna go brief my team.’

Ali watched as he walked off. He had noticed the look of surprise. No one down here knew he’d worked the dive team in Edinburgh years before. There’d never been any need to tell them. His heart filled with sorrow as he remembered his reason for leaving.
You’ll never catch me diving again.
Turning, he made his way back to the car.

2
^nd
November, 0800 hours – River Wear, near Durham Cathedral, Durham

The engine of the RIB hummed loudly as it came to a stop in front of the weir. The body was more in view now with the sun rising and banishing the darkness. Marlo could see the male was in his early twenties, and a jagged gash was visible against the pale skin of his forehead. It didn’t look good: wounds like that usually came from being clocked round the head with something hard. Marlo glanced at Sharpie and he nodded almost imperceptibly. This was potentially a murder.

She held the pole steady as she tried to hook the body to pull it towards the RIB. Sharpie was at her side, acting as the stand-by diver. Mac and Doc were both working on the tanks in case Marlo had to go in the water, and Connor stood at the engine trying to maintain position against the heavy flow of water. Marlo managed to hook the body and tugged, trying to free it from the hold of the weir.

A tree branch hit the RIB causing it to jerk suddenly, and Marlo felt herself pitch forwards. She inhaled a sharp breath in anticipation of the blast of cold water that she was about to hit, but her body jerked backwards. Sharpie had grabbed her utility belt and heaved her back.

‘Intent on taking a dip today, Buck?’ he joked.

‘Just making sure you’re awake.’ She yanked the pole again, firmer this time and the jolt was enough to free the body from the water’s grip. They pulled the male towards the RIB and grabbed his clothing, pulling him over the inflated edge and onto the base of the boat. Working quickly, they manoeuvred him inside a mesh-sided bag. The mesh allowed any residual water to drain off, whilst holding any potential forensic evidence inside.

As Connor navigated the RIB back to shore, Marlo cupped her hands to her mouth and blew hard, trying to warm them up. The Kevlar gloves were great for preventing injuries but they didn’t stop the cold seeping through into finger joints.

‘What have we got then?’ asked Ali as the team pulled the RIB up the bank.

Marlo opened the zip fastening at the top of the bag, peeling it down so Ali could see the male’s face, watching as Ali frowned.

Kneeling down for a closer look, he said, ‘I know this lad. We had him in not so long back for domestic assault, I’m sure we did. Charlie handled the interview. He bashed his missus round the head with an ornament. Maybe this is her way of striking back. Is there any ID on him?’

‘We haven’t looked. We pull ’em out. You can put your hands in his pockets, gov.’ Connor’s voice was sarcastic as he stood beside Marlo glaring at Ali. She shot him a warning look.
What the hell is his problem?

Ali looked suitably shocked at Connor’s tone. ‘Problem?’ He queried, his eyebrows raised.

Connor looked ready to respond with anger, so Marlo quickly interrupted. ‘No, no problem. I’ll check for ID now.’ She patted the male’s pockets and found his wallet tucked in his jeans at the front. Pulling it free, she flicked it open. ‘Grant Cooper?’

She handed Ali the wallet so he could look at the picture on the provisional driving licence card.

‘Aye, that’s him.’ Ali put the wallet into a small evidence bag, sealed the open end and turned back towards his team. Remembering his manners, he turned back. ‘Thanks, Marlo.’

‘What the hell was that?’ hissed Marlo in Connor’s direction.

‘What was what?’ he asked, looking confused, ‘I just told him to do it himself.’

‘He’s a DI, Connor. Checking the pockets wouldn’t have killed you.’

‘Cops like that do my head in, waltzing in like they own the place and taking over. Besides, he’s a knob. It’s his fault that guy escaped the other month. Proper risk assessments weren’t carried out. Because of him, a prison guard was killed. That guard was my cousin, Billy. No way Billy deserved to die like that. His deaths on
his
shoulders.’ Connor jerked his head towards Ali.

‘I’m sorry about your cousin. But I’m sure the prison does their own risk assessments. I don’t know much about the case so can’t really comment, but –’

‘Well keep your comments to yourself then,’ snapped Connor before marching off towards the van.

Marlo stared after him.
Jesus, overreaction much. Though I guess I’m one to talk. It was only this morning I was bitching about Ali. Pot. Kettle.

2
^nd
November, 0825 hours – River Wear, near Durham Cathedral, Durham

Connor stopped beside the van, immediately regretting his harsh words to Marlo. She wasn’t to know Billy had been his cousin. To be fair, Connor had often wished he and Billy hadn’t shared familial ties anyway; his cousin had been a tosser for the most part, always had multiple women on the go and treated people like shite. Connor knew Billy had been responsible for half the drugs going into the prison, but it was just one thing on a list of many that he couldn’t prove. And regardless of his faults, he was still family.

He sighed deeply.

His family really were the bane of his life. He was convinced he’d been born into the wrong body. He tried his damndest to stay on the right side of the law, despite every opportunity placed in his path by his uncle. He had always been in the picture looking after Connor and his sister, and Connor had always been expected to enter the family business. If racketeering and smuggling could be called a business. Instead he’d stuck to his guns, kept his nose clean, even moved to the Midlands and joined the force.

The rumour mill however, had closely followed him, eventually forcing him into the transfer to the North East Police.

His new colleagues knew nothing of his family, despite the fact that Uncle Fred had soon moved up to the North East himself. To help his parents he’d said. Lord knew his mum and dad needed the help. His mum had early onset Alzheimer’s, and his dad struggled daily with looking after her. His uncle made sure the mortgage was paid, and visited every day – always making sure Connor never forgot just how much he had to be grateful for.

And his Uncle Fred rang him every day when he was at work, fishing for goings on and information. Which Connor had to provide, or his mum and dad would end up homeless. His wage, though decent, wasn’t enough to pay their mortgage as well as his own. Not to mention the cost of putting his sister, Marie, through university. Uncle Fred took care of it all, and if all he wanted in exchange was snippets of information, then Connor really didn’t have it in him to say no.

Connor was smart though, at least he thought he was. The information was only ever minor – drugs raids going down, whispers of searches heard in the bait room. He’d never accessed the force systems purposefully for intel, but it was still bad enough. He knew if he ever got found out, it wouldn’t be something he could just explain away. Professional standards would have his job.

And now he’d snapped at one of his colleagues and made himself look like a prat.

Sighing deeply, he shoved his hands in his pockets and frowned.
When on earth will this all end? When will I be able to dig myself out of this shit-pit? When will I be able to make amends for all the bad things I’ve done.

He knew there was no excuse. One day fate would come knocking, and then what would he do?

Putting his face straight, he turned and walked back to the team. They could never know. He needed to get Marlo alone and apologise.

2
^nd
November, 1105 hours – detached house, outskirts of Hetton-Le-Hole

Elvie felt consciousness try and tug at her mind. She tried her best to resist, wanting to stay in the dream world where she was safe and nothing could touch her. But a voice invaded her subconscious, prompting her to become more aware. The voice was female, nasal, and spoke English with a Filipino accent.

‘The youngest one stays. She is pure. She will bring much money. The other goes. Tonight. Take her to Rocko on Wear Street. He will teach her how to be a good girl.’

Elvie heard a male voice give confirmation, ‘Yes, boss. Make sure she’s drugged. The last one used her teeth on me, the bitch. I’ve still got the scars.’ It was the same skinny man who had kicked her.

‘She was punished. The only thing she bites now is the pillow in the bed of the man who owns her.’ The woman cackled as she and the man left the room, closing the door and clicking the lock into place.

Elvie opened her eyes, carefully in case she had been wrong about the door closing. She saw Nita on the bed opposite; her hair was damp and she had different clothes on. Putting a hand to her own head, she realised her own hair was damp. She had been washed and changed also.

‘Pure?’ she muttered the word to herself.
What does that mean?

She tried to sit up, but the room spun making her feel sick. Placing her head back down on the pillow, she closed her eyes.
Just for a minute, I’ll get up and…
Darkness dragged her back down and she fell back into slumber.

2
^nd
November, 1540 hours – Dive Team HQ, South Shields

Marlo stood in the doorway to the sergeant’s office.  ‘Hey, Sharpie. Everything’s sorted in the kit room. Am I OK to get away?’

‘Yeah sure, Buck. You’re at HQ tomorrow, right? The professional standards hearing?’ said Sharpie glancing up.

‘Yeah at 1 p.m. I’ll pop here in the morning. If we don’t get a shout I was thinking I might do some practice dives. It’s chilly but the water’s supposed to be calm tomorrow.’

‘That’s a good idea. Connor can join you. He hasn’t had much chance to get in the water with being the new guy. In fact, we’ll all pitch out. It’s been a while since we used the Delta RIB: it could use the run out. Can you tell the team to report in at 7 a.m. and we’ll get started immediately.’

‘Sure. I’ll need to be out and dry for about twelvish though. Give me enough time to drive back down to Sunderland. Glad this is the final hearing, like.’

‘Well, you paid for the phone. There’s no other issue really. I’d have reacted the same in your shoes.’

‘Yeah, this meeting’s just a formality now. Even so, I’ll be pleased when it’s over.’ The incident they referred to had happened a couple of months ago. The team had just finished pulling a body out of a lake in Washington. A woman had been walking with her three-year old daughter on the path that ran alongside the man-made bank. The mother had been busy playing on her mobile phone, too engrossed to notice the child walk to the edge to look at the ducks. Marlo had happened to look up as the child pitched forward over the edge and landed headfirst into the water. She’d jumped back in and grabbed the child, pulling her to the surface. The mother hadn’t even heard the splash as her eyes were still fixed on the phone screen.

In a fit of temper, Marlo had grabbed the phone out of the woman’s hand and thrown it towards the centre of the lake. A complaint had been lodged the next day demanding payment for the phone, and demanding the force address Marlo’s ‘attitude problem’. Professional standards had told Marlo to pay for a replacement out of her own money and the meeting tomorrow would put the matter to rest.

‘Last day in tomorrow then rest days. I need ’em like, am shattered this week. Don’t ever have kids,’ warned Sharpie with a shrug of his shoulders.

‘Do I look like the kind of girl to settle down and want a family?’ joked Marlo. ‘I can barely look after myself. Besides if I had kids, I wouldn’t have time to dive. I’m heading up to the Farne Islands on my rest days. Bit of solo diving with my camera. I’m hoping to get some decent shots of what’s left of the wrecks up there. Last time I went there was too much sediment. I couldn’t see naff all.’

‘You’re the only person I know who dives at work, then goes home to dive on her own time too. Have fun though, and be careful. You know how I feel about solo diving. Something can …’

‘… always go wrong,’ finished Marlo. ‘I’ll be careful don’t worry. I’d better run if I’m gunna catch the guys before they leave. See you in the morning.’

‘Bright and early,’ replied Sharpie turning back to the computer.

Chapter Three

2
^nd
November, 2320 hours – detached house, outskirts of Hetton-Le-Hole