The DI Rosalind Kray Series: books 1-3

by Rob Ashman

  The women looked at each other with a double take. You could smell the wood burning as both women worked out the implications of what had just been said.

  ‘Yeah well sometimes things don’t work out.’ Lang finally remembered her lines.

  Kray decided to leave Bagley to it. She wandered out of the house and stood on the front step, looking up and down the street for Millican’s car. She pulled her phone from her pocket and dialled his number. It went straight to voicemail.

  Why do blokes always give it the little-boy-sulk routine when things don’t go their way?

  Chapter 46

  I drag Millican across the warehouse floor into the changing room and loop his arms through the inlet pipework of a radiator, securing them behind his back. He flops onto his side. An ugly blue ridge has developed down the side of his face and his left eye has blown up to the size of an egg. His nose is bent over to one side with blood running down the side of his mouth. He doesn’t look good.

  I take an energy bar from a box and munch on it, my head spinning with permutations. The opportunity to snatch Millican and use his car is an unexpected twist, neither of which I had factored into my plan, but then a good soldier will always adapt to suit the circumstances. With the police buzzing around Lang like flies around shit I need to rethink.

  I break another one from the box and chomp on it as if my life depended on it.

  Think man, think. Keep the mission goals in mind and think.

  Millican’s breathing is shallow and a circle of blood has grown around his head on the concrete floor. His face is the colour of uncooked pastry.

  My head is fuzzy, I’m not thinking clearly.

  Then Jono’s words thunder into my brain, ‘It’s time to deliver justice, boys.’

  I leave Millican, walk out of the changing room and scout around the vast warehouse. Ten minutes later I find what I’m looking for - a heavy metal bar. There is a set of double doors at the back of the building and the bar makes short work of the padlock, I swing one of them open and run to the car, then drive into the warehouse.

  With the keys in my pocket I close up the door and head out into the yard. I have no idea which direction to go. I stride off in search of a shop, a pharmacy and a phone box.

  I return an hour later to find Millican lying on his side with his eyes shut. My immediate reaction is that he’s faking, but the closer I get the more it becomes apparent he’s still out cold. He hasn’t moved since I left.

  ‘Come on, Chris, wake up.’ I dump the bag, kneel beside him and tap his shoulder. I try again – nothing.

  I walk to the car and pull one of the newly acquired tea towels from the pack, then proceed to wipe both of the number plates clean. I fish around in the bag to pull out a small bottle, the top twists off and I remove the tiny brush, scraping off the excess. The smell fills my senses and I’m transported back to the squat where you had solvent for breakfast.

  Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I steady my hand and draw a black line across the white surface of the number plate. After several more strokes I have transformed the letter F into a convincing E. I repeat the process on the rear number plate. That is the easy one. I do the same trick and the number 0 becomes an 8.

  I stand back to admire my handiwork. The amended plates would not stand up to close scrutiny but to a NPR camera they will do fine.

  Millican looks like death. I place my fingers to his neck, his pulse is strong. I unbox both the phones and insert the battery into one of them, the screen comes to life and I page through the basic set-up. The flash illuminates the locker room and I spend the next ten minutes working out the menu settings.

  How can it be easier to steal a car than work a bloody phone?

  Eventually I have everything I need. I pocket the SIM card and walk back to the car. The plates must have dried by now and I drive out onto the yard closing the door behind me.

  My new strategy fizzes in my head.

  This is not what I planned … it’s better.

  Chapter 47

  ‘You’ve reached the voicemail of Chris Millican, please leave a message.’ The recorded voice played once more in Kray’s ear. She disconnected the call. It was her third attempt and she had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that would not go away.

  His phone must be dead.

  Since returning to the station time had passed by in a blur. Leads were being generated on an almost hourly basis as the intelligence gathering gained momentum. The public appeal had produced a deluge of Jarrod sightings, each one leading to nothing. Every scrap of information needed to be assessed, prioritised and inputted into the huge logistical nightmare that was the investigation plan. Bagley trudged into her office and slumped himself in a chair.

  ‘Sometimes I wonder if we protect the right people.’ He flung his head back with his arms in the air, arching his back.

  ‘I didn’t think you would get anywhere with the lovely Ms Lang so I came back to get some work done.’

  ‘You’d think I was the one trying to kill her.’

  ‘She didn’t like you.’

  ‘She didn’t like any of us. The PC took me to one side and asked to be reassigned.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I would see what I could do.’

  ‘How did you leave it?’

  ‘The short answer to that is – badly. The more I tried to persuade her that moving to a safe house was in her best interest, the more abusive she became. We had tears and tantrums and she ended telling us to leave. And we are the ones trying to help!’

  ‘Just remember, she bottled the last copper that tried to help so, I would say, you got off lightly.’

  ‘We will maintain the protection unit but I’m not sure how long Quade will allow us to drive a horse and cart through the overtime budget. I got an email from her saying she wanted an update this afternoon, which is ACPO speak for ‘Come and see my spreadsheet’.’

  ‘Let me know if you need anything.’

  ‘Yes I will. By the way, we can’t have your boyfriend turning up whenever he feels like it.’

  ‘I know, I’m sorry about that. I’ve been cooling things off and he followed me to Lang’s place. It won’t happen again.’

  Bagley nodded his approval. ‘Something’s been bugging me.’

  ‘I know, I saw her.’

  ‘No not that. We have a heavy presence at Lang’s place and Jarrod is bound to see that. It’s unlikely he will have a crack at taking her out. But what about the other convicted people on the list?’

  ‘He killed Alice Fox when we had an officer parked outside so he’s not averse to taking risks.’

  ‘We believe his sights are set firmly on Lang but it would be worthwhile running through the outstanding people just to me sure.’

  ‘I’ll take another look.’

  ‘Good, well I’ve got to prepare for a meeting with an ACC and her spreadsheet.’ He got up from the chair and left. Kray watched him go and shook her head.

  One minute you are a delight to work with and the next you are jumping on the dick-head button for all you’re worth.

  Kray pursed her lips, annoyed at Bagley’s inconsistency. Taking a fresh look at the list was a good idea. Jarrod might well change tack and have a person in reserve. She picked up the phone and spoke to Tavener to set the wheels in motion. He had wanted to meet with her straightaway but Kray stalled him, she had her own bug that needed sorting out first.

  Kray pulled up a chair next to the geeky-looking guy wearing glasses and sporting a comedy comb-over. She wasn’t going to spend her time looking over the top of the wall of computer screens on his desk. Brian Taylor tilted his glasses onto the end of his nose and looked up.

  ‘Oh hi, how are you?’

  ‘Fine thanks, I wonder if you could take a quick look at a phone number for me?’

  ‘I’m just in the middle of something—’

  ‘It will only take a minute. I have a bad feeling and I need to check it out.’
<
br />   ‘Give me a second.’ Taylor’s hand whizzed around the mouse-mat closing down screens and minimising windows. Kray sat patiently, playing with her wedding ring

  Her heart was pounding from having ran up the stairs, she had just arrived back at the station having visited Millican’s place. The house was empty and his car was gone. She had called the hospital and they advised her he had not shown up for work today. The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach would not go away.

  Kray pulled her mobile from her pocket and retrieved a number from the address book.

  ‘This is it.’ She handed Taylor the phone. ‘I’ve called it several times and it goes straight through to voicemail.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Can you locate it?’

  ‘I can try.’ The screens lit up showing maps of the area and the locations of the cell phone masts. ‘It is not currently responding which would indicate the handset has been immobilised in some way.’

  Kray sat back in her chair, running her fingers through her hair. ‘Can you give me its last known location?’

  ‘I should be able to.’ The screens changed again and he jabbed a finger at the map. ‘Borland Way was when it stopped transmitting, around here, opposite the garage. You can see for yourself.’

  Taylor wheeled his chair to the side and Kray slid into his place. She traced the map with her finger.

  Two roads, situated close together, made her stomach fall through the floor – Borland Way and Craven Avenue.

  Fuck.

  Chapter 48

  Kray flagged down the first police car that swung into the station.

  ‘You on a shout?’ she asked the uniformed woman behind the wheel.

  ‘No, ma’am, I have some paperwork to complete.’

  ‘Good.’ Kray slid into the passenger seat. ‘Drive to the south end of Borland Way and put your lights on - we’re in a hurry.’

  ‘Okay, do we need back up?’

  ‘No, but we need to get there fast.’

  The woman radioed into the control room to report her change of movements as she sped out of the gates. The vehicles up ahead parted like the Red Sea as the flashing blue lights filled their rear-view mirrors.

  ‘What are we doing, ma’am?’

  ‘We need to find something. What’s your name?’

  ‘Sergeant Angela Hucknall. You’re DI Roz Kray, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes, just Roz will do.’ They hurtled along leaving lines of stranded cars in their wake.

  ‘Borland Way is a dual carriageway. When we get there I want you to straddle both lanes and slow down. About half way up there’s a garage on the left, I want you to stop.’

  ‘I know where it is.’ Hucknall pulled the car onto the roundabout, turning left, straddling the white line separating the lanes. A procession of cars crawled along behind.

  ‘Okay, stop here. You get out and make sure the people behind are behaving themselves, I need to go find a phone.’

  They both jumped from the car. Hucknall went to the back with her arms out stretched while Kray walked up the carriageway towards the garage. The road surface glistened with the earlier rain and puddles hugged the gutters. Kray scanned along the ground, her head twisting from side to side. Step by step she combed the surface in front of her, there were food cartons, cans and plastic bottles but nothing that looked like a phone.

  Then she saw it. Tucked against the kerb was a silver-grey casing. Kray pulled a glove from her pocket, slipped it on and picked up the remnants of the phone. The innards were smashed and the battery missing. She dropped it into a plastic bag and scoured the area for more fragments. After a couple of minutes, she gave up and walked back to the car, the roundabout behind them was in gridlock.

  ‘Okay, let’s go,’ Kray called out, getting into the passenger seat.

  ‘Got what you came for?’

  ‘Got some of it.’

  ‘Back to the station.’

  ‘No, my house.’

  ‘That’s very kind, Roz but I don’t have time for tea.’

  ‘Neither do I.’

  Kray was sitting behind her desk, nursing a coffee and staring into space. She had been back at the station for an hour and in that time had managed to upset the forensics guys and piss off ACC Quade by refusing to engage in a discussion about overtime projections. She would have to buy biscuits to say sorry to the one and chop her arm off to appease the other.

  Bagley stuck his head around the door.

  ‘Hey,’ he said.

  ‘How did it go with Quade?’

  ‘She is covering her back for when the month-end reckoning comes around. We are spending a shit load of money on this case and she needs to be able to justify it. She’ll be fine, much better than the head of forensics.’

  ‘Oh, how come?’

  ‘Did you tell one of his supervisors that unless he dropped everything and dusted a wine bottle for prints, you were going to shove it up his arse?’

  ‘I might have said something along those lines. The guy was being difficult.’

  ‘He’s not a happy bunny.’

  ‘Okay I’ll make it a whole tin of sorry biscuits. I’m waiting for them to call me with the results.’

  ‘They called me instead. I’m sorry, Roz but the prints they pulled off the phone casing match the ones on the wine bottle from your house. That phone belongs to Chris Millican.’

  ‘Oh shit.’ Kray put her head in her hands.

  ‘There could be a whole host of reasonable explanations why his mobile ended up on the road.’

  ‘Is there any CCTV in the area?’

  ‘No, I checked. I asked the garage if their forecourt surveillance covered the road and it doesn’t. It’s late. Why don’t you call it a day and go home? We can pick this stuff up in the morning. I know what you’re thinking, but Millican is probably pissed in a pub somewhere wondering where the fuck his phone’s gone.’

  ‘I got a bad feeling about this, Dan. I reckon Jarrod has him. He said he would kill him if he got in the way again. Chris is not at home and hasn’t showed up for work.’

  ‘You’re involved, you’re bound to think the worst. Go home and get some rest.’

  ‘Yeah, maybe you’re right.’

  Kray gathered her things together and waved Bagley goodnight. The drive home was a damned sight calmer than her blues and twos ride with Hucknall. She opened up her front door, walked into the hallway and dumped her stuff on the floor. It was eight thirty and the only thing she wanted was a hot bath and cold wine.

  Armed with a bottle and a glass, she ran the bath, emptying the last of the foam into the water. The first glugs of wine felt good. She tried to relax but the nagging sensation would not leave her alone.

  Where the fuck was he?

  She dipped her toe into the water and heard the letterbox snap shut downstairs, followed by a clunk as something landed on the mat.

  What the hell was that?

  She wrapped a towel around herself and headed downstairs, clutching her wine. A small, oblong object lay on the floor by the front door. She picked it up, turning it over and over in her hand – it was a mobile phone.

  What the …

  Kray went to her front room window and looked up and down the road, all was clear. She pressed the on button, the screen shone blue and the menu came up. Kray stared at the handset trying to fathom why someone would drop it through her letterbox. The phone dinged and a message logo appeared.

  She scrolled down and hit open.

  The picture of Chis Millican filled the screen. He was lying on his side with his hands behind his back, an angry bruise ran along the left-hand side of his face and his eyes were closed. The floor beneath his head was stained red. At the top of the picture was written: Lose the security around the Lang house or lose your boyfriend. Tell no one.

  Chapter 49

  The office was empty, which was no surprise as the clock on the wall read 2.20am. Kray and Bagley were perched at a desk surrounded by a fortr
ess of monitors, drinking coffee and waiting.

  ‘How long did he say?’ asked Bagley.

  ‘He had to drive in from Preston so he said he’d be here around half past.’

  Kray was struggling to keep her emotions in check. When the picture of Millican flashed up on the phone she almost dropped it. For the next hour she wandered about her house torturing herself with what she should do next. Eventually her copper’s brain kicked in and she called Bagley.

  The double doors swung open and Taylor paced in.

  ‘I got here as soon as I could, it sounded like an emergency.’

  ‘Thank you, it is. Brian, this is DCI Bagley, we need you to tell us everything you can about this phone.’ She handed over the device in a plastic bag.

  ‘Can I take it out?’

  ‘Yes, it’s already dusted negative for fingerprints. It dropped through my letter box and when I switched it on I received a text message.’

  Taylor pushed a couple of buttons and the picture of Millican popped up.

  ‘Oh shit. I see what you mean,’ said Taylor screwing up his face. ‘Okay let’s see what we have.’ He pushed more buttons on the handset and input the information into the system. ‘This won’t go any faster with you looking over my shoulder,’ he said. ‘Go get yourselves a coffee and bring one for me while you’re at it.’

  ‘Of course.’ Kray walked over to the vending machine, followed by Bagley.

  ‘You were right,’ he said.

  ‘I had a feeling something was wrong.’ The machine whirred away brewing brown liquid, masquerading as a satisfying beverage.

  ‘We’ll need to run the plan past Quade in the morning, but I’m sure she’ll go for it.’

  ‘It’s the obvious play, I’m not sure we have other options.’

  ‘You don’t have to do this, you know? No one would blame you if you took a step back.’

  ‘And do what? Sit on my sofa eating chocolate and getting drunk? No thanks, I’m better off here. Anyway, you would soon get fed up with me calling you every five minutes.’