by A L Fraine
“Top ten? Not top five, or top three?”
Kate held her hand out and see-sawed it as she pressed her mouth into a thin line. “Meh, I think that’s pushing it.”
“Hah. Well, I’ll reserve judgement on ranking you then.”
Kate smirked. “Very wise.”
“You do make a nice cuppa though, I’ll grant you that. So you’ve got that going for you.”
“Well, I’m thrilled. Does that mean I’m not bottom of the barrel?”
“You’re just above the scum.”
She laughed again. “You know how to charm a lady.”
“Hey, I know all the best pick-up lines.”
“Well, keep them to yourself, Romeo,” she answered, widening her eyes for a moment as she took another sip from her mug.
Sitting up straight, Jon stretched out an arm in a dramatic movement. “What light from yonder window breaks.”
Kate smirked, spraying tea halfway across the room. “Oh, shit,” Kate said with a laugh.
A beat later, Nathan appeared at the door and looked over at Kate with a bemused look. “What on earth’s going on in here?”
“Just listening to Shakespeare here,” she replied, waving at him.
“Ignore her,” Jon said.
“I already do,” Nathan replied.
“Shut it, you,” Kate said, having finally recovered from her laughing fit.
“What’s up?” Jon asked him.
“The bobbies up in Scotland just got back in touch. They’ve been round to Peter Richard’s place, but there’s no one home, and there’s a few days’ worth of mail on the mat inside the house.”
“Hmmm, interesting. I wonder where he is then?”
10
Stepping out of the halls of residence, Mollie pulled her gloves out of a pocket and slipped them on. Once they were in place, she stuffed her hands in her pockets, and strode across the courtyard between buildings, making for the edge of campus.
She knew where to go, and had done it before, but this was only her second time making the trip alone. She usually did it with Brad or Rupa. But, Rupa was still busy with her latest assignment, so she didn’t have time. Brad though, he was just being lazy and making a point because he’d been over to buy the stuff more than anyone else.
He had a point, she supposed, and it was only fair that they shared the jobs.
That didn’t mean she liked it, though.
Things were intrinsically different for a young woman heading out on her own as opposed to a guy, but despite that, she wanted to do her part. She’d had a few weeks off from these trips due to her uni work, so now it was time she pulled her weight.
Moving through the campus, Mollie was soon heading out beyond the grounds and into the city beyond. She took the usual route and made for the usual meeting spot.
She wondered what her parents would say if they knew what she was doing. They’d likely hate it and demand that she stop, but Mollie had no intention of doing that.
Getting high was fun!
And anyway, it was just a bit of African Black. It didn’t really do you any harm. The rolling tobacco was worse. Besides, everyone was doing it. It was fun, that was all. Harmless fun.
Didn’t they deserve a bit of fun after working so hard all day? Lord knows the tutors were working them to the bone this year. Things were getting serious, and she had to start thinking about what she was going to be doing once she left university. That time would soon come, and she’d need to be ready.
Walking up the street, Mollie took the next left into the second of the cut-throughs that would allow her to get to the destination she had in mind. Partway up, a street light lit the side road, and a white van was parked up just beside it.
As the evening had drawn in, a mist had started to form, making the glow from the street lamp bloom in the night air.
The van was new. She’d never seen it there before, but no one seemed to be around, so she didn’t think much about it and just gave it a wide berth as she passed it.
That’s when the shadows moved. Something strong grabbed her and pulled her into the darkness on the other side of the van. She tried to scream, but the attacker had their hand over her mouth. The van’s side door was wide open, revealing only darkness and she was thrown into the back with her attacker on top of her. The door rolled shut behind him.
She struggled and kicked, fighting him off. She wanted to get free, to run back to her room and slam the door shut and never come out.
As she kicked and fought, she saw metal glint in the dim light coming in through the front window screen. A second later, a sharp, cold pain lanced up through her leg. She screamed, but his hand was on her mouth again.
“Quiet,” he hissed at her and held up the knife, “or I’ll stab you again.”
Mollie caught her breath, and clamped her mouth shut, looking into his dark eyes. She couldn’t make out much detail beyond the mask he wore, but those eyes. Those determined, cold eyes scared her.
She thought about screaming and fighting again. But her eyes caught sight of the knife and the crimson wetness of her blood along the blade.
There’d be other chances.
She nodded and did as he asked.
11
Walking into the office, Jon yawned, still half-asleep. He eyed his office door for a moment, and then thought better of it and walked around to the kitchen instead. He needed caffeine.
Turning into the break room, he spotted Kate pulling some mugs down from the cupboard. He stopped and leant against the door frame, watching her. He’d fallen lucky with this one, he thought. One of his biggest fears, coming down here, was that he’d ended up with a team of people that he either didn’t like or respect.
The team you worked with was of paramount importance, and it could have been a disaster. Of course, Damon had reassured him that the team was good and competent. That had given him a modicum of confidence in his choice to move down here, but he couldn’t be sure until he’d met them himself.
As it turned out, the team seemed capable and welcoming, so far. Not only that, but he found himself drawn to Kate in ways he’d not been drawn to someone for an awfully long time. She was smart, capable, strong, and she held her own against the boys.
Not only that, but he felt there was something of a kindred spirit in her. She’d had a killer, namely this Abban Devlin guy, take a personal interest in her and try to blackmail her.
It was a little different to his own experience but close enough that he felt she would probably understand what he’d been through. She’d understand what it was like to try and do your job, only for the psychopath you were hunting to turn their eye to you and make you their target.
That was a special kind of terror in that, especially when they hurt someone you loved. As he thought back, images of Charlotte flashed before his eyes. Images of her alive, warm, and vibrant, mixed with hideous visions of her cold, unmoving, and dead.
Those images haunted him still, five years after the fact, and he honestly doubted he’d ever be rid of them.
But in some ways, he didn’t want to be free of them. He wanted to remember her no matter what.
“Morning, guv,” Kate said.
Snapping out of his reverie, he looked up at her and smiled. “Mornin’.”
“Tea?”
“Aye, I’d love a cuppa.”
“Coming right up,” she replied, and put two teaspoons of loose leaf tea in the teapot, before pouring the freshly boiled water into it. Stirring the beverage, Jon got a whiff of the drink and sighed.
It smelt good.
“You use tea leaves,” he commented.
“Of course, you get a much better flavour.”
“You think?”
She eyed him. “Are you a bag man, normally?”
“Oh, I love a good tea-bagging,” he replied with a wry smile.
Kate raised an eyebrow at him. “I’d beg to differ,” she replied and pulled the milk out the fridge. He expected her to just place the container on the c
ounter as they waited for the tea to brew, but instead, she poured some milk into the first mug.
“Whoa! What are you doing?”
She froze and looked up at him. “Um, making tea?”
Jon looked from Kate to the milk, and back up again, his expression expectant, as if it was obvious what he was getting at.
“What?” she asked bewildered.
“You put the milk in first.” His voice was incredulous.
“Yeeaah,” she replied.
“Why?”
“Because that’s how I make tea.” Her tone suggested it was the most obvious thing in the world.
“That’s not how you make tea. How can you put the milk in first? That’s madness.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Yes, it is. You put the tea in first, and then the milk. Not the other way around. Otherwise, how do you know how much milk to put in?”
“I just know. Besides, it tastes better this way.”
“What!” Jon couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. How on earth could she think this was how you made tea? This was madness, utter madness. “How on earth does it taste better? It makes no difference, surely. It still mixes together the same.”
“Oh, no. I can tell the difference.”
“Bullshit.”
“No, I bet I can.”
“Right, whatever. Give me that milk, missy. I’ll show you how to make tea,” he started to grumble. “Jeez. Milk in first? I’ve never heard such craziness.”
Reaching for the teapot, he picked it up and went to pour his tea.
“Wait,” Kate said.
“What now?”
“You’ll need this,” she said and handed him the world’s smallest sieve. “To catch the tea leaves.”
Jon looked at the dinky utensil and shrugged. “Whatever,” he muttered and poured the tea into his mug through the sieve. Sure enough, it caught the tea leaves as she’d explained. Replacing the pot, he picked up the milk. “Now, watch and learn,” he said. “Look, see. Now I can judge how much milk to put in by the colour of the tea and get it just right. But that,” he pointed to her mug, “that is an abomination.”
“Right…” Kate replied, drawing the word out.
He smiled at her. “Gather the team, let’s get everyone caught up.”
Jon walked out of the kitchen, still astonished by Kate’s tea-making skills, and into his office to settle in for the day, turn his PC on, and get ready for the morning briefing.
He was halfway through this morning tea, merrily muttering swear words at the computer screen and the endless spam he always seemed to have, when Kate appeared at his door. “Feeling less grumpy now?”
“Nothing like a cuppa to take the edge off.”
“Glad to hear it, Mr Tea Nazi.”
“Whoa there! Tea Nazi? I think you mean, Tea Angel. I saved you from a fate worse than death.”
“Whatever. Did you like the blend?”
“Mmm.” Jon nodded. It was lovely. A little different to what he was used to, but there was plenty of flavour in there.
“It’s Barry’s.”
Jon looked up and pulled a quizzical expression. “It’s who’s now?”
“Barry’s Tea.”
“And who’s Barry when he’s at home?”
“No, that’s the brand. Barry’s Tea. It’s Irish, don’t yeh know?” Kate’s slight Irish brogue came to the fore a little more as she finished her sentence.
“Is it?” He glanced at the remains of the drink, and back up at Kate. “Funny, it doesn’t taste like potatoes.”
Kate pulled a face and then gave him the finger.
“I’m joking, I’m joking. It’s nice. So, are we ready?”
“Yup.”
“Then lead on, Barry.”
Kate's eyebrows climbed up her forehead. “Oh shit, what have I done?” she muttered as she turned and led him out of the office and into the incident room, where the team was waiting.
“Morning, all,” he said, to a round of subdued replies as they all either yawned, shuffled their papers, or waited patiently. Kate took her seat beside him, and Jon sat at the head of the table.
“Right then, updates. Rachel? Any progress?”
“We have a rough route that Harper took on her walk, cobbled together from various eyewitnesses, and some CCTV that caught her. But there are some big gaps in there, with sections where she could have been on three or more roads. We’ll keep hunting, but so far, we don’t have much more than that.”
“Do you think we should go public? Ask for help?”
“Maybe. I can put out a statement, send it to the media along with some CCTV footage.”
“Perfect. Get on that.”
“Will do, guv.”
“Right then, speaking of CCTV, do we have the footage from the camera at Chaucer Gardens?”
“We do,” Dion replied, and turned to the large TV on a moveable stand that was at one end of the table. “We’ve got a pretty good angle on the attackers too,” he said and hit play. The image, which was surprisingly good, showed a couple of guys walking along the balcony to the front door of Seth’s apartment and knocking. When it opened, the first man surged in through the front door, tackling Tom, and sending him to the floor. The second man stood outside and looked around, including almost directly at the camera. After a moment, he walked inside and closed the door behind him.
He wasn’t in there long though, and before long, the pair left the flat and walked away, out of shot.
“So, I took this footage, and some footage from elsewhere on the estate and got the best headshots I could of the two guys and blew them up. They’re pretty grainy but better than some of the images I’ve pulled from CCTV. Now we just need to figure out who they are.”
“Great work, Dion. Right, well…”
“Guv,” Nathan cut in, peering at the screen. “I think I know that guy who waited outside.”
“Oh?”
“That’s Dillon Harris, if I’m not mistaken.”
Surprised, Jon sat back in his chair. “Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure,” Nathan said. “I’d recognise him anywhere.”
“And why’s that?”
“Because he’s a Miller.”
“So, he makes bread then, or something? You’re going to have to give me more to go on than that, I’m new around here.”
“The Millers,” Rachel said, nodding sagely now that Nathan had explained things a little more. “They’re a gang. A big one. Based in South London.”
“They’re run by the Miller family, hence the name,” Nathan added. “They’re powerful and wealthy, but they have a kind of Mafia-like code of honour thing. They don’t kill random people or anything. Anyway, I’d bet that the other guy is a Miller too.”
“Right,” Jon replied, and looked up at the images of the two men again, and grimaced. “So what the hell are they doing beating up Tom?”
“They must have been after Seth,” Kate replied.
“Mmmm, yeah,” Jon mused. “But why?”
“Don’t know, but I’ll compare the other guy to the mug shots we’ve got of the Millers, see if we can get a match.”
“I presume we know where these Millers are?”
“The head of the family is called Irving. We know where he lives and he’s usually quite happy to help the police out.”
“I bet he is,” Jon answered. “I wonder how many coppers he has on his payroll?”
Nathan shrugged.
“Alright,” Jon replied. “Nathan, do some digging. See what you can find out.”
“Will do, guv.”
“Okay, so what about Harper’s father?”
“Nothing yet,” Kate replied. “We tried again this morning, first thing, but no one’s answering.”
“Great. We need to find him and fast,” Jon replied. Kate nodded. “Okay, the cuffs, anything there?”
“Nada,” Dion replied. “They’re mass-produced with nothing about them we can use to track or identify
where they came from, or who bought them. Dead end.”
“Wonderful,” Jon replied. “Any other links? Did we hunt through the database of police officers, see if there were any links with an officer or ex-officer holding a grudge?”
“The obvious links were to officers who had encounters with Harper or Seth in the past,” Kate replied. “But there’s nothing there that really stands out as suspect. I’ll keep looking, but I’m not hopeful.”
The door to the incident room opened and a woman in civilian clothing walked in.
Jon looked up. “Um, a knock would have been nice.”
“Sorry,” she replied, and Jon felt reasonably sure he’d seen her around the office. She was most likely one of the civilian investigators they used.
“It’s alright,” Kate said. “Guv, this is Debbie Constable.”
Jon glanced at Kate, and then back to Debbie. “Nice name, well done. Excellent choice of job.”
“Um, thanks?”
“What is it, Miss Constable?”
“We just had a call. Another body’s been found.”
12
Jon sat in the passenger seat of the car and let Kate navigate through the winding backroads of the Surrey countryside to the crime scene. She knew her way around here far better than he did and he figured it would just be easier for him to sit this one out.
As Kate drove, Jon scanned through the report.
Someone had found the body in the woods—a dog walker, predictably—and phoned it in. It was a girl strapped to a tree, and the first attending officer reported that she appeared to be missing a couple of fingers on her right hand.
Jon grimaced at that little detail and looked away from the sheet of papers. He’d thought he was getting somewhere yesterday with the investigation. Maybe they had the guy on the ropes and were closing in. But this new development threw doubt on that assumption. Would he really be out there killing again, if he thought he was about to be caught?
“It’s definitely another one for us then, it is?” Kate asked.
“Looks that way. Missing fingers and all.”
“Damn,” she replied. “He’s working quick.”
They soon found the crime scene. A small crowd of attending police vehicles and officers had taken over a muddy patch of land off the side of the road that served as a car park. The officer at the entrance let them in after checking their IDs.