Dead in the Water: When Cullen met Bain (Cullen and Bain Scottish Crime Thrillers Book 5)

by Ed James

  And Hunter had to keep them alive for that long.

  Great. Just bloody perfect.

  ‘Okay. I’ll hold, but I need them urgently. Aye, thanks.’

  Shepherd held one of them, staring into the wife’s eyes, rolling back in her head.

  Braithwaite stopped dead, eyes shut. The women all lay on a massive bed. Ten of them. Only one of them breathing, but faint and shallow.

  Hunter stepped closer to her, but Braithwaite nudged him back. ‘It’s too late, Craig.’

  ‘It’s not too late, Jon, we can—’

  Someone grabbed Hunter’s shoulders and shook him.

  He jerked forward and clattered his fist into his sternum. Cullen tumbled over the low wall and disappeared.

  What the hell? Where was he? He managed to focus on Cullen. ‘Scott?’

  Cullen popped his head up and started dusting himself off. Sand everywhere, over his hair, his suit, his trousers. He leaned down to pick up his phone, frowning at Hunter like he’d lost all trust in him. ‘Hello? I’m still here.’ He pointed at the bench behind Hunter ‘Get hold of Jack!’

  Hunter swung around. Jack was on his feet now, looking like he was going walkabout. Hunter jerked forward and grabbed Jack’s wrists, and pushed him back on the bench. The big man started wriggling like a small child, but with the power of an ex-soldier.

  Still, Hunter was a lot stronger than him, and was younger and fitter, and without the malnutrition of a life on the streets. And wasn’t smacked out of his skull.

  ‘Craig, the ambulances have been dispatched. They’ll be ten minutes.’

  ‘How long would it take you to drive there?’

  5

  Cullen

  The reason for the ambulances taking forty minutes was clear to Cullen when he got close to the King’s Road roundabout. A three-car accident, blocking the Harry Lauder Road around Portobello. But he managed to sneak through the tight gap between two maroon buses, and floored it, on the wrong side of the road, and shot off towards Piershill.

  Not the fastest route to the hospital, but it was a route and he’d get them there in minutes.

  ‘Next left.’ Hunter was in the back with Happy Jack’s wives.

  That back road led up to Arthur’s Seat and the park. Meaning they could get to Danderhall that way, then it was a straight run to the hospital.

  ‘Any idea what they’re on?’

  ‘Heroin, probably. But it could be superstrong ecstasy. Hell, it could even be spice.’

  ‘Spice?’

  ‘Christ, Scott, you need to read up. Super-strong cannabis that’s eating up Manchester just now. Makes people go nuts.’

  ‘They’re foaming at the mouth, though.’

  ‘True. They’re barely breathing and I can’t feel her pulse. Christ, her tongue shouldn’t look like that.’

  ‘Heroin, then.’

  ‘Right.’ Hunter was scowling, but his eyes were blank, like he wasn’t even in the same car. Made Cullen feel like he was the only one here. And he was supposed to be the one training for the role.

  Cullen slowed at the top of the street. A wave of traffic was coming from the lights at the Jewel. Cullen kicked down and blasted out, just managing to get in ahead of the first two cars. There, in and done. A forty zone, but he tore along the road, pushing the needle towards sixty. The lights ahead were clear at least.

  ‘I don’t think these two have got long for this world.’

  ❖

  ‘Here.’ Hunter handed Cullen a coffee in a beige plastic cup. ‘You did good, kid.’

  Cullen took the cup but the last thing he needed was more caffeine, especially not after that drive. His heart was racing. He needed a cocoa, a bath and his bed. Pipe and slippers, trusty hound lying at his feet. But at least the bitter smell took his mind away from the hospital corridor and the disconnected screams. ‘Craig, I’m three months older than you.’

  ‘Aye, but you act like you’re fifteen.’

  ‘Charming.’

  Maybe Hunter had a point, though. Wasn’t the first time he’d been accused of being immature.

  Cullen took another sip of the coffee and tried to get the shiver out of his system.

  Hunter’s phone chirped and he checked it. One of those new fancy Apple phones. Posy git. Miles better than Cullen’s battered old Nokia. ‘It’s Shepherd.’ He walked off, putting his phone to his ear, slurping coffee. ‘Aye, Sarge, we’ve got them here, though it was like being at Alton Towers the way Cullen was driving.’ He disappeared around the corner.

  Leaving Cullen on his own.

  Something hit him in the chest, made it tighten.

  Relief?

  Anger?

  Stress?

  Maybe disgust at the state of Jack’s wives.

  Maybe empathy at the state of their lives, at whatever traumas had led them to seek solace in Happy Jack’s arms and his copious drugs.

  ‘You saved their lives.’ Dr Helen Yule was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Fist on her slender hip, glasses catching the bright lights. ‘But then your thing is being a hero cop, right?’ She rolled her eyes.

  Just like her. That coquettish smile matched with frosty eyes. Her words encouraging him to do things he shouldn’t.

  Christ, get a grip!

  Cullen put on a mask of a smile and hid behind it. ‘Just doing my job, Helen.’

  A nurse walked past.

  Helen slapped his arm. ‘Please use my title when we’re on duty, Constable.’

  ‘Okay, Doctor.’ Cullen had that squirming feeling in his gut. ‘How are they?’

  ‘Stabilising. We’ve administered Narcan to inhibit the effects of the heroin, but now it’s just time and respiratory support. As they were frothing at the mouth, we have intubated them. They’ve aspirated their stomach contents and may have an infection potential. We should see a positive response soon.’

  Cullen blew air over his coffee. He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. ‘Any chance we could—’

  Her laugh cut him off. ‘No, Scott. No chance.’

  ‘You don’t know what I was going to ask.’

  ‘You were going to ask if you could speak to either of them.’

  Which wasn’t true.

  He was going to ask if they could try their date again, but that door was most definitely closed.

  Especially when someone doesn’t answer the phone to you.

  But there was a deeper reason for it all, wasn’t there? One he didn’t want to face.

  ‘Tell me this isn’t because of our—’

  ‘I’m a professional, Scott. Of course it’s nothing to do with that.’

  ‘I’m not doubting your professionalism, but part of me feels—’

  ‘Scott, two weeks? And nothing? Seriously?’

  ‘Eh?’ Cullen stood up. ‘But I’ve been calling you!’

  ‘Well, my phone hasn’t been ringing.’

  ‘Seriously. I tried, sixteen times.’

  ‘Not hard enough.’

  That was how she wanted to play it? Fine.

  The frothy surface of his coffee was seriously interesting now.

  Helen left her perch by the door and walked over to him. Almost as tall as him. ‘Scott, we went on a date and we had sex. And you just left me for dead? That’s really low.’

  ‘I know.’ Cullen stood his ground, though. He tasted something acid in his throat. ‘And it would be if I’d actually done that.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, Scott.’

  ‘Seriously. I’ve tried calling you, Helen. Sixteen times, like I say, but if you don’t answer, then… And things have been manic at work. We’re on this serial rape case and—’

  ‘You honestly expect me to believe any of that?’

  It was the truth. Well, part of it. Something stopped him from— ‘Karen McFarlane, Debbie Smith, Alison Aitchison. Tell me you don’t recognise those names.’

  She looked away, eyes shut. ‘I know them.’

  ‘Good.’ Cullen winced. ‘I do
n’t mean good. What’s happened to them is terrible. I mean—’

  ‘Scott, a text would’ve been fine. We could’ve had a conversation, a dialogue. But you shut me out.’

  ‘I texted you a few times. I called. If anyone’s giving anyone the cold shoulder, it’s you.’

  She frowned. ‘I don’t believe you.’

  Cullen got out his phone and found the texts. ‘There. See?’

  She looked at it. ‘Shite.’ Then she frowned. ‘You fucking idiot. You put in the wrong number.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Mobile numbers start with a seven, Scott. And you’re supposed to be the cop.’

  ‘Crap.’ Cullen wanted to smash the phone off the floor. ‘Bastard thing.’

  ‘It wouldn’t have even dialled.’

  ‘This one does. It just went “click brrrr”. I thought you’d blocked my number.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Okay, but from your reaction, it feels a hell of a lot like you’re saying you want to go on a second date with me?’

  She raised her sculpted eyebrows, thin pencil lines. ‘Scott, I’ve spoken to a few nurses here. A lab technician and a paramedic. Word gets around.’

  He had no idea what she was talking about. ‘About what?’

  ‘My experience is not unique. You shag them, then dump them.’

  Right.

  There was that one woman. Emma? Erica? She might’ve been a nurse.

  ‘Look. Aye. Okay. So I’ve had flings. One-night stands. It’s… It’s a psychological crutch for me.’ He looked at her, made eye contact through her glistening glasses. ‘But you’re special, Helen.’

  She laughed. ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘I mean it. You really are. I’m shocked that you can’t see it.’

  Her scowl softened to an even expression. Maybe the charm offensive was working.

  Cullen tried a smile on for size. ‘And I swear it’s not because you’re a Hibs fan, either.’

  She tossed her head back.

  Bingo.

  Cullen felt the butterflies flapping in his stomach, so he widened the smile. ‘And I appreciate you asking me if I wanted to go to the Dons match with you. I don’t want to mess things up with you, Helen. I texted, yes. I called, yes. But I should’ve come here, and asked to see you. But I swear, I’ve been too busy with work, and that’s the truth. So busy that I can see why doctors complain so much about long shifts.’

  She was grinning now. Maybe a slight twinkle in her eyes. Could just be the lights catching her glasses.

  ‘And I mean it, Helen, you’re very different to those nurses, the lab tech, the paramedic and the radiologist.’

  ‘A radiologist?’

  ‘That’s a joke.’ Cullen held up his hands. ‘Look, I had a thing with a nurse here, that’s true. But I swear the other two… I knocked them back. Kim and Claire, right?’

  She paused. Then swallowed. ‘Right?’

  ‘They tried it on with me in here, both of them. Same day. No idea what was going on. And I told them both the same thing, I wasn’t interested in them. This was after you.’

  She stared at him for a few seconds that felt like hours. ‘Fine, let’s try a second date then.’ She held up a finger. ‘But I’m picking the place. And you’re paying.’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Mm.’

  ‘Anyway, how are the wives?’

  ‘The wives?’

  ‘It’s what Happy Jack calls his lady friends.’

  ‘That’s pretty sick.’ She led Cullen into an office that looked into the ward. A team of nurses huddled around two beds. ‘We’ve had a few cases like this, but we only get them just at the point of death and then I have to deal with that pathologist. Deeley. The little creep.’

  Cullen shrugged. ‘Never met him.’

  ‘Well, I’d advise you don’t.’

  ‘So, can we speak to them?’

  ‘No.’ She sighed. ‘Okay, Scott. Here are the rules. Right now we need to work on saving their lives. I mean, your crazy driving did most of that, but usually with cases like this, where there’s no fixed abode, we don’t stand a chance. Like I say, it’s usually a case of finding the corpses, or when paramedics find them alive they’re DOA or as near as damn it. These two, they’ll live. And there’s a fighting chance it’ll be without too much long-lasting trauma. But you won’t be able to speak to them for a while.’

  Someone squelched down the corridor towards them. Hunter, huffing out a breath, staring at Cullen. ‘Scott, Luke wants me back at the ranch. Told you to stay here and babysit them.’

  ‘Why? I don’t think they’ll be going walkabout.’

  ‘Thing is, Luke’s found a decent quantity on the other two. And he’s worried these two have a condom-full in, ahem, nature’s suitcase. Besides, he says Chantal Jain was looking into a series of overdoses. So… you’ve got to stay.’

  And just like that, Cullen’s day of actual proper police work reverted back to bloody donkey work. And waiting on two heroin addicts to pass heroin. Or rather, waiting for the doctor to extract it.

  ‘See you around.’ Hunter charged off down the corridor.

  Helen looked Cullen up and down. ‘I need you to leave this with me.’

  ‘You heard him. I’m not going anywhere. You don’t think they’ll be okay to speak soon?’

  ‘I wouldn’t bet my mortgage on it, no.’

  ‘Okay. Thing is, we need to know what they’ve taken. If we can trace it back to a dealer, then we can either prosecute or at least stop any more overdoses.’

  Helen sighed again. ‘Let me see if I can accelerate the blood tests. We might be able to match it with other recent samples.’

  6

  Hunter

  Hunter had that deep hunger he only got when he hadn’t eaten for a whole day. Which was carelessness more than anything, but it was a common occurrence when you were a cop doing intermittent fasting like those Hollywood actors did to get shredded. Bloody difficult feeling like your body was eating your bodymass when you were stuck in a tiny interview room with Luke Shepherd and Happy Jack.

  Hard to decide who smelled worse.

  Shepherd’s cologne had a whiff of wet dog about it. Probably some fancy fragrance he’d picked up at an airport, supposed to smell all rugged. Bear Man by Chanel.

  And no lawyer, just Jack and the strange soft marshmallow smell of heroin mixed with a rancid reek, like he’d been sleeping in a bin. The soft grin and soft focus of a smackhead. His thick beard contained the stains of a good few meals, but few good ones. Sandwiches stolen from Tesco. Greggs sausage rolls dumped in bins.

  And Hunter didn’t feel hungry anymore.

  Still, Hunter knew him, alright. ‘Jack.’ He locked eyes with him. ‘Jack?’

  Still nothing, just blissful ignorance.

  ‘Jonathan.’

  Shave the beard, wash the months of dirt off, trim the hair, and there he was. Staff Sergeant Jonathan Stephen Braithwaite, as was, hidden behind Happy Jack’s cheery exterior.

  Dishonourable Discharge in 2006 for an incident in Baghdad. One Hunter had heard so many rumours about that he doubted it all.

  Jack was frowning at Hunter, but it was like Braithwaite was doing it. ‘Corporal fucking Hunter.’ The frown deepened. ‘Can’t remember your first name, though.’

  ‘It’s Craig. You remember me, Jonathan?’

  Jack nodded, eyes screwed shut. ‘Aye. Corporal Craig…. Can’t remember your surname.’

  ‘Hunter.’

  ‘Oh. Aye. How’s Terry doing?’

  ‘He’s not so good. Not so good at all.’

  ‘Shame. Good laugh, him.’

  ‘How you doing, Jonathan?’

  ‘Don’t call me that.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘People call me Jack these days, Craig.’

  ‘Happy Jack.’

  Jack bared his lips. ‘Never that.’

  ‘Sorry. How you doing, though?’

  ‘Fine and dandy.’

  ‘From all
that heroin, aye?’

  Jack shrugged. ‘Sure you should be interviewing a junkie while he’s all hopped up?’

  ‘Aside from the fact you’ve been cleared for interview by the station’s duty doctor, I don’t think there’s a time when you’re not “hopped up”.’

  ‘Fair comment.’ Jack looked around the room. ‘All of you. You’re all spying on me, watching everything I do!’

  Hunter knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but the man’s brain had rotted way past the point of rationality. ‘Nobody’s spying on you, Jack.’

  ‘Aye, you are.’ He stood up and wafted his reek over Hunter again. ‘Let me out!’

  Hunter just stayed where he was. Counting to ten. And he looked over at Shepherd, arms folded in that way of his, high across the chest. Aye, he wasn’t exactly pleased with this.

  Hunter motioned with his hand, trying to calm him. ‘Jack, take your seat again, please.’

  ‘You can’t coop me up in here. I’m a free man!’

  ‘Jack, you might be a free man, aye, but you need to help us.’

  ‘Nonsense!’ Jack thumped back in his chair. ‘You’re going to stick microchips in us, so you can track us.’

  Bugger it. ‘How?’

  ‘GPS.’

  ‘And what’s powering these chips?’

  ‘Us. Our energy.’

  ‘Sounds like amazing technology.’

  ‘I’m saying nowt. Don’t want the Chinese to overhear this.’

  ‘The Chinese?’

  Jack slid an imaginary zip shut along his lips.

  ‘Why do people want to track you?’

  ‘Because we know.’

  ‘You know, do you? Know what?’

  Jack laughed. ‘I’m not falling for that trick. You’ll need to get it from my brain once you’ve killed me.’

  ‘Come on, Jack. We’re old friends. Served in the same regiment. Remember?’

  ‘Aye, just at the start of your service.’

  ‘I was a private, aye. But you helped me get to corporal. You were one of the good guys.’