“I already know what this is about. A lot of people throw their newspapers on the floor, you know. It passes the time to read them.” Crumbs sprayed as he explained. “You lot were front-page news. I figured you’d stop by at some point. You want to find out what I’ve seen and heard.”
“Can’t fool you.” I got comfortable on the floor next to him, back against the freezing brickwork.
“Can’t con a con man either,” he said good-naturedly. I had no clue what he meant by that comment. “Well, there’s been a surge of people wanting cocaine. A few of the dealers were struggling to get their hands on enough before your new shipments came through.” He paused to sip the tea, warming his hands up on the cup first. “Dealers have complained about the price of these new lots, apparently they’ve ramped it up. As you well know, the dealers charge double of what they buy it for, and some customers simply can't afford it.”
It was a change to have information so readily available, without having to force it out of anyone.
“So?” I half questioned, half wracking my own brain. “What happens then?”
“They’re hitting different markets. Businessmen, wealthier people,” Michael said as he ran me through the basic process. He’d gained much more experience in these fields than any copper could.
“People with money, in basic terms,” I checked that it was correct. Michael held up his thumb in congratulations, overgrown nails digging into his palms as he did so.
“These are newer people behind this,” Michael continued, elaborating on the topic he knew inside out.
“Do you reckon they wanted to hit these different markets for a reason?” I shifted my ass uncomfortably on the floor, as it had started to get pins and needles. It wasn’t a pleasant place to experience them. A couple of teens dressed in hoodies passed by, sniggering and whispering nasty comments about the sight of us. I could see Michael visibly deflate at their sharp tongues.
“Possibly. The entire operation would earn an extortionate amount of money, entitling everyone to a bigger cut at the end of it all.” He didn’t know what to do with the rubbish left over from the meal, so I took it. I’d find a bin somewhere nearby.
I sighed. “Money always gets people’s knickers in a twist.”
Michael copied the sigh. “Don’t I know it. It’s important though, we can’t really live without it. I’m the prime example.”
“Hey,” I softened and patted his bony shoulder. “I’ve told you before, we can help--”
“I’ll stop you right there. I’m here by my own actions,” Michael spoke using his hands graphically. I had to duck to avoid being whacked in the face. “If fate is so kind as to give me a second chance, I'll take it and won’t screw it up. Fate will be the decider, not your handouts.
“Alright. But did anyone ever tell you that you’re even more stubborn than me?” I chuckled and Michael joined in.
“They’ve been recruiting, threatening criminals with a past,” Michael added nonchalantly, as a way to carry on the deliberation. He spotted the expression of surprise on my face and heard the gasp of curiosity. “The underground networks are all talking about it. But, so far, they’ve all been caught in the act. You really don’t read the news, do you?”
No doubt that’s why Flynn wouldn’t tell us how the offer came through to him about the drug job, and no wonder it was the first time he’d been involved in a crime of this proportion. The people recruiting these criminals were holding something against them all, something Flynn must’ve wanted to protect.
“But why didn’t the people recruiting the criminals just do the job themselves?” I spoke aloud, trying to make the connections in my mind. None of it was making much sense, like all the pieces to the puzzle were there, but none of them matched.
“Who knows?” Michael shrugged and covered his torso with the knitted blanket. “There could be many reasons. To cover their identity, as a front. To create diversions whilst something else is happening. They’re criminals, I could be here forever.” He laughed at his little joke.
“That’s true.”
“But they picked the worst criminals.” Michael grinned. “They’ve all been caught. Not only here, but there were some caught in Edinburgh a couple of months ago too for exactly the same thing as here. Then there was Glasgow too.”
Wow. It seemed like the news would be a necessary thing to read. It was usually a manner of pride that I’d avoided it as of late. I didn’t want to feed or pay towards someone like Georgina Ryder's lifestyle.
“When you say exactly the same thing, what does that mean?” I pondered, feeling a suspicious drip fall down my shirt. Shuddering, I decided it would be best to ignore it, instead of seeing where it came from.
“Well, judging by the papers, they all follow the same pattern. The reports said something about a tip-off, then shootings. The criminals were either caught and jailed or pronounced dead on the scene. None of the investigations ever went much further than that, and the journalists reported the police couldn’t find anything,” Michael rambled on whilst I couldn’t physically move.
A trickling sensation ran across my entire body, and it wasn't the dripping water anymore.
“DI Cooper?” He pushed against me to break the daydream. Or was it a living nightmare?
In a split second, I kicked into gear, the pumping adrenaline taking over.
“DI Cooper? Where are you going?” Michael queried as I jogged out of the tunnel.
“I need some signal,” I grunted and held my phone up in a variety of angles until the bar symbol showed itself as full. “I think we’ve been set up.” Holding the phone up to one ear, I listened to the dialling tone ring out.
“Someone pick up,” I hissed, having rung the CID department first and foremost. Nobody answered, and checking my wristwatch, I noticed it had well past home time. So, I attempted McCall’s personal phone instead. The dialling tone rang twice, then thrice.
“Come on, McCall,” I hissed and crossed my fingers in hope.
10
McCall
“Goodnight, Sarge,” Rebecca appeared at my desk, scaring me half out of my wits. Glancing at the wall clock, we’d all stayed slightly later by accident. That’s what happened when we were invested in our cases. Looking up, most of the constables had disappeared a while ago and escaped without me noticing.
“Have you seen DI Cooper yet?” I asked the studious woman, who shook her head.
“No. Not since he left to talk to Michael,” she answered with a polite smile. Even after such a long and tedious day, she still had the energy to be polite. It was nice having another woman in the office again, a pleasant break from the boyish banter.
“Yeah. I guess he just forgot about the time too. It sure flew by.” I smiled fondly. “See you tomorrow. Have a great night.”
She grinned and gathered her belongings together, exiting promptly. Sighing and probably sporting a severe frown, I rubbed my eyes tiredly. A voice came from the other side of the office, half scaring me out of my wits.
“Did you forget about me?” John coyly smiled at the sight of me, dimples exaggerated by the movement.
“Urgh.” I hung my head into my hands. “How long have you been waiting there for me?”
“Around an hour. I figured you were busy as you had that same old concentration face on, so I left you to it,” he explained gently. “Are you hungry yet? I was thinking we could try that new restaurant that was taken over by the new owners recently. Their menu on the computer all looks really--”
I’d completely forgotten we’d arranged to have dinner together tonight. I’d been preoccupied thinking about Flynn Jones. Even though DCI Reid didn’t want to spend any more police time on questioning him, I decided to visit the hospital after work hours. That way, I’d get to spend a decent amount of time talking to him and working on building trust between us.
I couldn’t exactly tell John my plan as he’d probably try to change my mind. Although I loved him, he had a fear of breaking the
rules laid out for us at CID. Furthermore, if DCI Reid found out I’d snuck around even after he said not to, there’d be consequences.
No. John didn’t need to be dragged down by my actions.
“I’m sorry,” I groaned and mentally kicked myself for having to miss out on this. “I’ve got a lot to do tonight.” It wasn’t a lie.
“I can help,” he offered kindly, a handsome soul as well as face.
“No!” I sounded guilty already. Clearing my throat, I tried again. “I mean, no, thank you. It’s private… stuff,” I failed to think of a reasonable excuse.
“Oh.” Although John seemed put out, he did well to leave on an encouraging smile. “Let me walk you to the car, at the very least. We’ll get to spend a few minutes together.”
How could anyone not melt at that suggestion? Always the gentleman. Despite our age difference, I couldn’t help but be smitten by him. Most men over a certain age didn’t ever act as courteous as John did on a daily basis.
“I’ve got your coat.” He came sauntering over. From his long legs, to the ears that poked out adorably beneath a mane of luscious locks, John was perhaps the most attractive constable in the station. Or maybe, I was purely biased.
The automatic lights brightened when they detected John’s movement, and CID felt quiet without anyone else here.
“Hi,” he whispered, pecking my cheek sweetly. “I’ve waited all day to actually be able to do that.”
Even though the team knew DC Taylor and I were together, we didn’t want to cause tension in the office by displaying PDA. We agreed to act professionally within office hours and get on with our work in the usual sergeant-constable way. It drove us crazy, but that’s what kept our relationship alive.
Feeling myself flush a pinkish shade, I turned towards the desk and picked up some sparse files.
“Extra work? If I'd have known that’s what’s keeping us apart, I would’ve kicked up a bit more of a fuss,” John teased and barely noticed which files they were.
Outside the department hub, a few uniformed officers were gradually filing out of the station in groups. Home time for people was always a mad rush, where we’d been cooped up for too long. We were all hungry, exhausted, and ready to relax.
“That’s what happens as a sergeant.” My shifty laugh sounded too fake.
“Rather you than me.”
John placed my woollen winter coat tenderly over my shoulders by John. That’s when the office phone started to ring off the hook. Who would ring now, knowing we’d finished our shifts?
“Leave it,” I insisted. “One of the night shifts can answer, or they can ring again tomorrow if they’re desperate.” It was Sod’s law. I’d struggle to stay awake on the drive to the hospital at this rate, let alone having to talk to Flynn yet. “C’mon.”
We caught up on the general office gossip whilst traipsing through some empty parts of the station, apart from places where twenty-four-hour round shifts were common. The canteen, for example, was one of the areas that was never empty.
A bitter wind pinched at our cheekbones when we finally emerged outside, breathing in fresh air after hours of being cooped away. John held my free hand to warm it up, gently placing his other on the small of my back. Many cars were covered in grit, dirt and specks of mud covered the paintwork of mine.
“Those bloody decorators with all their dirty tyres,” I complained. Their backsplash had covered all the once-sparkling windows. “It’ll need a clean now.”
“They’ll be finished soon. I can come around to yours this weekend to clean the car if you’d like? I’m a dab hand with a sponge and hose,” John offered. An image of John covered in suds and water came flashing into my mind.
“Would it sound desperate if I said yes please?” To see him with a hose would be a dream come true.
“I know exactly what you’re thinking.” We shared a chuckle. “Sounds like a plan then. I guess I’ll leave you to work.” He motioned towards my car and held open the door.
“Not so fast,” I grabbed his neck for a kiss. When we had finished, we were both left a bit breathless. “See you tomorrow.” I smirked at the adorable reaction that greeted me and clambered into the vehicle. The door soon shut after me, and John waited to wave me off.
Sliding the abundance of files onto the passenger side, my engine spluttered into action. Headlights would be helpful in the thick layer of fog starting to roll in from the waterfront, a telltale salty taste hanging in the air. The fishermen out there wouldn’t have much luck tonight.
As I accelerated gently to merge into the local road adjoined to the station car park, he waggled his fingers in a farewell motion. That man always left a coy grin on my lips, one which lasted all the way to the hospital. My radio played smooth jazz, a genre that wasn’t my fondest. It was the only semi-decent thing being broadcast across here. My car skimmed beneath bridges and traffic lights alike, and just then my phone vibrated and buzzed.
Taking my eyes off the road for a split second, I saw the screen was flashing with Finlay’s name. It had to ignore it, due to driving. Finlay barely ever rang because of anything important, anyway. He mainly phoned up to moan about CID or things that annoyed him.
The scenery of various trees and houses slowly changed, and fairly soon, the hospital bordered the horizon. It teamed with life and lights from the wards creating a visually impressive scene from the outside. Ambulances screamed and raced past, en route to pick up casualties or bring them here. Even though the public was starting to sleep, this place never rested or stopped.
Sick and injured individuals rushed in and out of reception, parents with their children or partners. Some husbands and family members helped pregnant women to the maternity ward, where they breathed haphazardly through the agony.
I didn’t envy them, that’s for sure. Children were adorable, but the whole process to get them into our world wasn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows. It was torture, to put it mildly. Whatever everyone was here for, they were all equally important. This place saw it all, from birth to death and that was quite an astonishing feat.
At last, I stepped foot onto Flynn Jones’s ward. Nurses flapped busily, checking on all their patients in order. Their rubber-soled shoes squeaked ominously backwards and forwards, like those out of a horror movie. Hospitals gave me the heebie-jeebies sometimes, but that’s because I would stay up late and secretly watch those movies as a kid.
When I peered into the room the second time over for today, Flynn had worsened in less than twenty-four hours. He was sick with worry, a horrible grey pallor overcoming his entire being. Even Flynn’s lips were of a washed-out pale white as if he’d been swapped for a spirit instead.
I reached out to touch the silver handle, and the police guard stopped me. It was the same one we had earlier, bulky muscles practically ripping his uniform. Anyone would believe he spent most weeks living at a gym.
“Visiting hours are over.”
“Oh, I was here earlier,” I reminded the guard. “You talked to us this morning.”
“That I did, miss, but I still can’t let you in. As I said a minute ago, visiting hours are over. The man in there is a part of an investigation and letting people in this late won't look very professional on my part.” The guard wouldn’t budge, taking his duties seriously. Folding his arms as if to challenge me, the guard waited to hear a response.
“I know. It’s our investigation.” I found the CID badge floating around in the coat pockets. “DS McCall, CID, if you need reminding. I’d like to talk to him now.”
“I am sorry, Miss, but--”
“Ma’am,” I snapped.
“Ma’am, but I can’t let you in,” the burly guard continued. “Especially not after visiting hours. My sergeant would kill me, not to mention DCI Reid.” The guard shrugged, planting both boots firmly on the immaculately cleaned tiles. Germs and all that.
Thinking on our feet was a CID speciality. “Funny you should mention DCI Reid. You’ve met him, I presume?”
“So you’ve heard of his punishments then,” I pretended to gnaw on my lip nervously. Acting was one of my stronger skills. “Which is why I know you’ll take pity on me. Our DCI wants a more detailed report. Otherwise, our investigation will come to a standstill. We don’t have time for that.” Obviously, I’d had no clearance of the sort, but the guard didn’t need to know that. “If I don’t get this report, uh. What’s your name, sir?”
The guard shuffled on the spot, starting to melt at my innocent act. “Simon, ma’am.”
“Simon, if I don’t get this report, I’ll be getting one of those very… special punishments.” I slyly crossed my fingers as Simon didn’t seem utterly convinced just yet. It was time for the driving force of the bargain, to stab the knife a bit deeper into the open wound.
“Tell you what, Simon,” I leant in and whispered, throwing a wink for good measure. “You stop me from getting a bollocking, and I’ll give a good word to your superiors, aye?”
Simon paused and scratched his bicep. The cogs in his brain were practically whirring aloud.
“Fine.” He finally gave in and checked over his shoulders to make sure nobody was listening. “Go ahead, ma’am.”
“Thank you, Simon.”
I’d escaped with ease into Flynn’s room, where the atmosphere changed into a tense blanket of fear, as cold as ice. Flynn hadn’t stopped whimpering, and it was hard to tell whether he was asleep or crying. A pang of guilt struck inside that we’d left him alone like this.
“Flynn?” I whispered and seated myself onto the same visitor's chair as that morning. He flinched but stayed silent, breathing steadily through those funny shaped lips.
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