by Ed James
Dead in the Water
Cullen & Bain 5
Ed James
Contents
Other Books By Ed James
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Afterword
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Next book
Copyright © 2021 Ed James
The right of Ed James to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or transmitted into any retrieval system, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Cover design copyright © Ed James
Other Books By Ed James
SCOTT CULLEN MYSTERIES SERIES
Eight novels featuring a detective eager to climb the career ladder, covering Edinburgh and its surrounding counties, and further across Scotland.
GHOST IN THE MACHINE
DEVIL IN THE DETAIL
FIRE IN THE BLOOD
STAB IN THE DARK
COPS & ROBBERS
LIARS & THIEVES
COWBOYS & INDIANS
HEROES & VILLAINS
CULLEN & BAIN SERIES
Four novellas spinning off from the main Cullen series covering the events of the global pandemic in 2020.
CITY OF THE DEAD
WORLD’S END
HELL’S KITCHEN
GORE GLEN
DEAD IN THE WATER
CRAIG HUNTER SERIES
A spin-off series from the Cullen series, with Hunter first featuring in the fifth book, starring an ex-squaddie cop struggling with PTSD, investigating crimes in Scotland and further afield.
MISSING
HUNTED
THE BLACK ISLE
DS VICKY DODDS SERIES
Gritty crime novels set in Dundee and Tayside, featuring a DS juggling being a cop and a single mother.
BLOOD & GUTS (a new prequel coming soon)
TOOTH & CLAW
FLESH & BLOOD
SKIN & BONE (coming 1st May 2021)
DI SIMON FENCHURCH SERIES
Set in East London, will Fenchurch ever find what happened to his daughter, missing for the last ten years?
THE HOPE THAT KILLS
WORTH KILLING FOR
WHAT DOESN’T KILL YOU
IN FOR THE KILL
KILL WITH KINDNESS
KILL THE MESSENGER
DEAD MAN’S SHOES
Other Books
Other crime novels, with Senseless set in southern England, and the other three set in Seattle, Washington.
SENSELESS
TELL ME LIES
GONE IN SECONDS
BEFORE SHE WAKES
1
Shepherd
The tide was far out to sea, low down in the distance, maybe half a mile away. Some kids were running on the damp sand, leaving footprints that would be washed away soon. The wooden groynes were fully exposed, lying in the evening summer light like the preserved skeleton of a dinosaur. Another one just further along to stop the sand getting sucked out to sea.
Luke Shepherd sat on the wall and stared across the Forth to the Fife coast, the river glistening in the sunshine. He’d worked with someone from Tranent who saw that view from their garden every morning for forty-six years and yet had never thought to visit. Not that Fife could live up to that hype.
He looked back along the promenade at Portobello’s faded Victorian glamour, that wasn’t so faded these days. An old holiday destination, huge old hotels that went to ruin, but were now on the way back through gentrification. A street food van sold fancy coffees and pastries, even at this late hour. Hell, there was even a bookshop on the high street. And so many artisan food places it was almost like the city centre.
He hadn’t been here in a while, maybe ten years. Second-hand cigarette smoke caught on the breeze, mixing with the tang of seaweed. He caught sight of the three idiots bumbling his way, hands deep in fish suppers, the gait of the severely mashed. Now the pubs were open again, it was open season for the idiots to catch up on a year’s worth of inside drinking. Even on a day like this.
Scott Cullen was first, sucking down a can of knock-off Lilt and tossing it into the bin. He clicked his finger at Shepherd, pistol pointing at him. ‘There he is.’
Shepherd stood up tall and waited. ‘Your intel’s crap, Scott.’
‘How?’
Shepherd nodded inland at the Gothic house. ‘The Dalriada shut down last year.’
‘Ah, shite.’ Cullen stopped dead, but rocked forward with the exaggerated momentum of the drunk. ‘That’s a disappointment.’ Behind Cullen, Craig Hunter and Malky McKeown stuffed their chip wrappers into the bin, then took turns to finish their cans. Christ, he reeked of booze. ‘We could go to the Sheep Heid?’
Shepherd thought it through. On the southern slopes of Arthur’s Seat, nestling in the heart of Duddingston, an ancient village, or at least ancient-feeling. Mostly food, with a bit of drinking, but far enough away from anyone who’d know them. Meaning they could talk in safety, but he’d be protected by being out in public. Probably an even better spot than the Dalriada would’ve been. ‘Fine. I’ll drive us. Parked up on the High Street.’
‘Nice one.’ Cullen swung around. ‘Change of plan, boys.’ He shot off in the direction of Shepherd’s car, meeting Hunter at the side street.
Shepherd followed, though he remembered the block of buildings on the left. Someone had lived there, someone involved in that old case. He exhaled and nodded a smile at McKeown. ‘You boys been out for a while?’
‘Decent sesh, aye.’ McKeown burped into his fist. ‘Day off today?’
‘Something like that.’ Shepherd sped up towards his car. ‘Pubs in Porty any better these days?’
‘Miles better, Luke. Proper hipster lark. Not a patch on the Cheeky Judge, mind.’
Shepherd gave him a bit of side eye as they walked. ‘Nice pub that one.’
‘The best.’
Cullen and Hunter were already at Shepherd’s car. Even hammered, they were fast walkers.
McKeown was running a fingernail between his teeth,
then swallowed whatever he’d found. ‘See you drive a Tesla, big man.’
‘That’s right.’ The locks plipped as Shepherd neared.
‘Mighty expensive on a DS’s salary.’
‘It’s only a Model 3. Practically giving them away. My sister’s husband works for Tesla, got me a good deal.’
‘Speaking of a good deal.’ McKeown stopped to tie his shoelaces. ‘I’ve been in touch with a mutual friend of ours. Brian Bain.’
‘How’s he doing?’
‘He’s well. Asking about you.’
Shepherd knew he was up to something. ‘Oh?’
McKeown shifted his feet, crouching the other way round, and nodded at the car. ‘Told us some things about you, Shepherd. About what you’re really up to.’
Shepherd felt his nostrils flare. ‘What’s that?’
‘Well.’ McKeown hauled himself up tall, but looked like he was going to totter over. ‘Told me about a case back in the day, about how Cullen and Hunter were covering up something.’ He dusted off his knees. ‘I didn’t work it myself, but it might be worth you looking into. Got a big list of people you could have a word with, not all of them still on the force. See if you can get something out of them.’
Shepherd focused on the car. This was something new, some fresh blood to get stuck into. As doubtful as he was of the source, this was a gift horse whose mouth needed a good inspection.
Could he trust Malky McKeown?
Could he trust Brian Bain?
‘You’re out drinking with them. Why should I trust you?’
‘Loose lips sink ships, Luke. And the drunker they get, the looser they get. Seeing what I can get out of them, see what I should pass on to you. What I should keep for my podcast.’
The Secret Rozzer, but Shepherd knew that. ‘I’m assuming you’ve got something?’
‘A classic. Think you worked it.’
Shepherd had an inkling of what he was talking about. A case where two plus two equalled four, but not all the time. And not in hindsight. Still, it could be a game. ‘You should raise your concerns with Professional Standards and Ethics.’
‘I am. Bain said you’re still working that beat.’
‘Oh, Malky. I’d love an imagination as wild as yours. Not as wild as his, mind.’
‘If you’re not interested…’ He made to walk off.
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘So you’re not interested?’
‘No, but I like to know who I’m working with. If I can trust them.’
McKeown burped into his fist. ‘If it was me, I’d start with Paul Gordon.’
‘Elvis? What does he know?’
McKeown shrugged. ‘Bain wouldn’t say. But he did say Yvonne Flockhart might know a thing or two. Trouble is, she’s shacked up with Cullen these days, right?’ A thin smile crossed his face. ‘And you might want to tie it up with what Bain’s been digging up on those pair.’
If Bain was involved, then it might be something juicy. But why get a clown like McKeown to broker it?
Still.
Shepherd got out his phone and held it up. ‘Scott? Got a call from Ally. Need to head back into the office. I’ll drop you boys where you want.’
2
Becky
Ten years ago
The Friday before Christmas
The tide was in, the water touching the sea defence walls running along the promenade. Becky was standing half the way along, sucking in the strong smell of the sea spray. Brushing her hair back again, before the cold breeze swept it away. The wooden groynes were almost fully submerged. At least, that’s what she thought they were called.
Groynes.
Didn’t seem right, did it?
Becky didn’t know if she could go through with this.
What it all came down to was standing in court, being questioned by lawyers from both sides. Her side, the prosecutors, had her well prepped, or so they said. But maybe what her friends said was true – that they didn’t have her best interests at heart. The other side, though… She’d seen it happen on TV, seen them tear apart witnesses on the stand.
And worse, seen them tear apart victims.
Victims like Becky.
And he would be there, sitting in the courtroom. Watching her. And his friends would be there, too. All those eyes watching her. Ears listening to her. Someone would maybe wait outside for her. Send her a message she hadn’t already ignored.
Her phone bleeped in her pocket, the Taylor Swift tune she’d assigned to him. The Story of Us. Felt ironic when she set it, but now? Now… Well.
Becky sat on the bench and hit the green button, her hair catching in a gust of wind. ‘Hello?’
‘Hey, Becky, it’s Luke.’
Shepherd. DS Luke Shepherd.
The rain started up again, splashing her face with a fresh wash. ‘Oh, hey.’
‘Just checking you’re okay?’ Said like a question.
Becky owed him the truth. Him of all people. He’d stood by her all this time, helped her through it. Being her rock, the one man she could rely on. ‘Not really, no.’
‘Want to talk about it?’
Of course she did.
All the nights when she’d actually slept, when she’d woken up with his face in her dreams. Her nightmares. A distant memory, maybe, but a vivid one.
And she never wanted to talk about it. Definitely not in front of all those evil faces.
She clutched the phone tighter. ‘Not really.’
‘Okay, well I’m here for you, okay?’ Luke paused. No sounds on the line, so maybe he was in an office. ‘Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?’
‘Tough night, you know? Barely slept.’
‘Happens a lot, Becky. Believe me. Even tough old cops like me get jitters before we stand up in court. I’ll see you there, aye?’
‘Aye.’
‘Are you sure I can’t pick you up?’
‘I’m fine. Got my bus pass.’
Another pause, longer this time. ‘If you’re sure?’
‘I’m sure. Thanks for offering, though. Means a lot.’
‘Right, well, I’ll see you in the cafe down the road, okay?’
‘Okay.’ Becky hit the end call button and the weight of it all crushed down on her like someone tipping sand on her. Bucket after bucket. Felt like she was drowning in the stuff.
On the thin strip of sand ahead of her, a man threw a ball for his dog, which ignored it and the ball rolled right into the sea. The dog looked at the owner with a frown and a tilted head, then waded into the water and gripped the bobbing ball in its mouth before doggy-paddling back and dropping it at its owner’s feet.
Hell, that’s how she felt. Shepherd was the owner, her the dog. Maybe she was the ball.
Was she doing the right thing?
Was there even a right thing to do?
Of course there was.
She needed to do this. If they could put him away, he’d not be able to do it again to any other women. And maybe she’d feel okay. Maybe she’d sleep again.
Maybe.
But it had to be worth the shot.
Becky pushed up to standing and dusted sand off her trouser legs. No skirt. Luke’s advice. Something like victim shaming was horrible, but judges and juries still did it. And she wasn’t used to trousers. Jeans, leggings, tracky bottoms, sure. Heels, though, clicking off the tarmac as she walked up to the High Street, taking Bath Street, that long curve up to the crossroads. Jim’s flat was two doors up, but he was out, working the early shift in the Deb.
Seeing his stairwell door made her shiver.
Jim had offered to take the day off to support her. Drive her up to the court, sit with her. But no. She told him not to be so daft, to save up his holidays for their break after Christmas.
She nibbled her thumbnail as she walked. Truth was, she wanted him there. Needed him. Holding her hand. Telling her it was going to be okay, whatever happened.
A car slowed behind her and she could hear the window
winding down. ‘Alright, doll?’
Using that word, it could’ve been anyone.
But it wasn’t, was it?
Becky looked around at the car. Kenny Falconer was behind the wheel of his souped-up Audi. An old thing tinted matt black, which seemed to suck in all the light, not that there was much on a day like this.
Becky sped up, her heels clicking faster even though it was pouring down now.
The car revved its engine, overtaking her and stopping up ahead by the bingo hall. The passenger door opened and a big goon got out onto the road, then stepped around the damp pavement.
Becky couldn’t get past him.
The Co-op car park was just beyond him. She could sneak in there, use the lane at the side, then get around to the police station. Maybe? And she could phone Shepherd, tell him she needed that lift after all. Tell her that Kenny was putting frighteners on her, just like Luke said he might.
Becky got her phone out of her bag. 999 was only for emergencies, right? Was this one?
The big lump snatched it out of her hand. ‘Fancy thing, this. One of them newfangled Apple iPhones. Cost a pretty penny.’
Becky knew not to give this creep any satisfaction, so she just gave him that grin. Her favourite one to use on drunks in the bar. ‘Give it back.’