Settled Blood

by Mari Hannah

  ‘You coming or what?’ Gormley asked.

  ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’

  ‘Yeah, well, get your shit together, Lisa. You need to focus.’

  Sheepishly, she followed him to the DCI’s office. He was pissed at her. It wasn’t like him to be sharp. She’d let him down. She’d let them all down. And if the freak didn’t turn up tonight they might have lost their one and only chance to nick him.

  Brown had gone ahead. He was already in Daniels’ office when Carmichael arrived, standing by the window. Behind him, driving rain splattered against the windowpane. It was almost horizontal and very bad news for Weldon, his search team and Jessica. Brown looked more confident than Carmichael felt. A smile of encouragement crossed his face as she followed Gormley in.

  She was about to close the door when Naylor appeared, walking towards her with an urgency in his step. Suddenly feeling anxious, she stood back and held the door open. Thanking her as he walked by, he perched himself on the edge of Daniels’ desk and nodded at her.

  As Senior Investigating Officer, it was her job to brief them.

  ‘Right, you two . . .’ Focusing first on Brown, then on Carmichael, Daniels picked up on the tension they were feeling. With an almost imperceptible shake of her head she put their minds at rest. She’d kept her word: Naylor hadn’t been told. ‘I’ve put a stop-and-search marker on the PNC so Freek’s vehicle is already on the radar of every force in the country. Assuming we don’t pick him up in the next hour or so, Fuse nightclub is our next best bet. The object of the exercise is to locate and engage with him in order to arrest him. Is that clear?’

  Carmichael and Brown were like a couple of nodding dogs.

  ‘We’ll be listening the whole time to both of you.’ Daniels’ eyes found Carmichael. ‘Andy has a receiver as well as transmitter. It’s safer that way, Lisa. That means we’ll be able to communicate with him if necessary. Just in case you start talking to someone else called Steve, i.e. not Freek – and it does happen, believe me – we need to know from you that you have the target in sight. The words target in sight would be good. Or, I’ve got the arsehole, if you prefer. Or any other form of words, so long as it lets us know we can move. Keep talking to us so we know exactly where you are at all times. Let’s be absolutely clear about this: we’re not interested in implicating him. We haven’t got time for that. Our sole objective is to lock him up. Understood?’

  Carmichael backed up Brown’s nod with a: ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Good. Any questions? If so, spit ’em out.’ None were voiced. ‘You both sure? We don’t want the nine o’clock shudders in the morning.’

  Carmichael frowned, unsure what she meant by that.

  ‘Shudda done this . . . shudda done that.’ A broad grin spread over Gormley’s face. He’d never been able to stay pissed for long. ‘Keep up, Lisa. You must’ve heard that one or I’m losing my touch!’

  Carmichael laughed, her anxiety easing a little.

  Naylor looked at his watch. ‘It’s time for the freak show.’

  Daniels stood up, pulling her jacket from the back of her chair.

  ‘By the way, I rang my opposite number in Durham,’ Naylor added. ‘She’s fully aware of our intention to mount an undercover operation on her patch. She’s instructed officers working the late shift to steer clear of Fuse unless it’s absolutely unavoidable, so you shouldn’t have any problems in that respect.’ Fixing on Brown and Carmichael, he said, ‘You two take care. Good luck. And Hank, I want Freek back in one piece!’

  ‘Right!’ Daniels said. ‘Let’s go get him.’

  They left the station and piled into the Toyota: Daniels and Gormley in the front, Carmichael and Brown in the rear. Newcastle city centre was extremely busy with late-night shoppers heading home on buses, trains, in taxis. Daniels engaged her blue flashing light in order to cut through the traffic and soon they were crossing the Tyne Bridge heading south to Gateshead.

  Carmichael stared out of the window as lamp posts flashed by on her left, the strobe-lighting effect hurting her eyes. Beyond the railings, further downriver, the illuminated Millennium Bridge changed colour. Ruby red clashed with the amber haze of street lamps and blue lights flashing from the roof of the Toyota. And, suddenly, Carmichael was back at Fuse, the psychedelic vortex of lights spinning round her. Faster. Faster. Ever faster.

  Daniels glanced in her rear-view mirror. ‘You OK in the back there, Lisa?’

  ‘Can’t wait,’ Carmichael lied, trying to calm herself.

  Focus.

  No one seemed to have much to say as the miles flashed by and they crossed the force border into neighbouring Durham. The hiatus allowed Carmichael time to get her head together. She wondered whether Freek would show. Her guts were telling her he would and she was desperate to be there when, if, they made an arrest.

  The radio suddenly interrupted the silence: ‘Control Room to 7824.’

  Everyone in the car recognized Brooks’ voice.

  ‘7824 to Control,’ Daniels answered. ‘What you got for me, Pete?’

  ‘A sighting of Foxtrot, Romeo, Echo, Three, Kilo parked up in Durham. You’ve got a stop and search on it.’

  There was a burst of Yes! from the back seat.

  ‘Don’t get too excited, boys and girls. Officer on scene says there’s no driver present.’

  ‘You got a location for me?’ Daniels asked.

  ‘Certainly do.’ Brooks tapped a few keys and read from his control-room monitor. ‘It’s parked on North Bailey. The vehicle is locked and secure.’

  ‘The bastard’s at the club,’ Gormley told the others.

  ‘Tell the reporting officer to maintain contact with the vehicle from a covert location until I arrive at the scene. ETA five minutes, no more.’

  Daniels turned off the A1M on to the dual-carriageway and picked up speed in the bus lane. Soon after, the yellow glow of Durham City was visible in the distance. She glimpsed the top of the Cathedral through the trees. Flooring the accelerator, heading downhill, she sped through a couple of roundabouts, forced to slow down as she neared the city centre. There were more pedestrians here.

  Thursday night was a popular night out in Durham.

  Back on the radio: ‘7824 to Control. Tell the officer if the driver shows, it’s still a stop and search. He’s to detain him ’til I get there.’

  ‘That’s a roger. Anything else I can do for you this end?’

  ‘Maybe later, Pete.’ Daniels drove up the hill through the market square. ‘Just thank the officer for his assistance. I’ll speak to him on arrival.’

  The radio went dead.

  Turning left into Saddler Street and on to North Bailey, the Castle grounds and Durham’s magnificent cathedral were on Daniels’ right, Hatfield, St Chad’s and St John’s Colleges on her left. She stopped the car, exchanged a brief glance with Carmichael in her rear-view mirror.

  ‘Looks like we’re on, Lisa. Get your student face ready.’

  60

  In dim light and shivering uncontrollably, Jessica peered towards the black hole, her only escape from the chamber. The water level had dropped quite a bit in the past few hours and she felt calm.

  So calm.

  Way beyond terrified.

  She called out. But nothing came back except the echo of a rasping voice that no longer sounded like her own. ‘Hello, are you there? Are you there? You there? There?’

  Who was he? And what the fuck had he meant? Blame your father. Blame your father for what? She’d been blaming her father since she was a little girl. Now she’d do anything – anything, to see him one more time. A chance to tell him she forgave him. For everything. He wouldn’t survive another loss, not after Mum. Losing Mum had turned him into a heartless monster she hardly recognized from before – if ‘before’ even existed outside of her imagination.

  She felt drowsy again, began talking to Robert about their hopes and dreams for the future, the only way she’d been able to stay awake. Sleep now would signal the end. But s
he was tired, so very, ve-ry tired.

  Drifting . . .

  Floating away . . .

  Sucked into a warm tunnel that took the pain away . . .

  Jessica woke with a start as a draught of air, barely noticeable, kissed her face. Was she dreaming? Hallucinating?

  No.

  There it was again.

  She wept hysterically as hope bubbled up inside her, choking her to the point of exhaustion. Either the wind outside had changed direction and she wasn’t far from the entrance to the mine, or there was a ventilation shaft nearby.

  Either way she might be heard.

  Please God, let it be true.

  61

  Thankfully the rain had stopped. Daniels didn’t need her wipers on. Freek’s red BMW three series was parked twenty metres away in a line of cars, directly beneath a street lamp. From her position, she could observe both the car and the front door of the club they called Fuse. Her first and only priority was to preserve life. She was desperate to examine the BMW, make sure that Jessica wasn’t tied up in the boot.

  ‘Hank, get the jemmy out,’ she said.

  Gormley got out. He went to the rear of the Toyota, opened the tailgate and took something from the back. Then he walked nonchalantly across the road and popped the boot of the BMW. He shook his head, jammed the boot shut as best he could and then returned to the others.

  ‘There’s all sorts in there,’ he said as he got back in the car. ‘Laptop, few boxes, other stuff I couldn’t make out. But no rolled-up carpets with girls inside.’

  ‘Good. Now keep your bloody eye on it.’ Daniels didn’t mind his black humour. It was his way of coping. Self defence against the things that concerned him most. His emotional connection to the case was as strong as hers. She never doubted that. Pushing a button on her radio, she began to transmit. ‘Pete, we’re now in position, keeping obs on target. The vehicle has been examined in situ. Jessica Finch is not inside. I repeat, Jessica Finch is not inside. Relay that to the MIR for me, will you? No sign of the driver yet. As soon as he’s been located I’m going to need a low-loader here to uplift the vehicle forensically. Might be advisable to give the CSIs the heads up on that.’

  Gormley began grumbling about the name change. When they had joined the police, Crime Scene Investigators were known as scenes of crime officers, or SOCO. A poncy new name didn’t change what they did and wasn’t required in his opinion. CSI Northumbria was hardly CSI Miami, was it? Sexing up departments was the wrong way to go, incurring an expense the force could utilize to better effect elsewhere.

  ‘Stop bleating, will you?’ Although she agreed with him totally, Daniels had more pressing matters on her mind. She depressed the button on her radio. ‘Any chance you could ask the reporting officer to identify himself and stand by until we’re done, Pete? The BMW is no longer secure.’

  ‘That’s a roger,’ Brooks came back.

  Seconds later, a car further down the street flashed its lights once.

  Daniels did likewise, then cut her ignition.

  She swivelled round to face her DCs. ‘You ready to make a name for yourselves?’

  Brown and Carmichael both nodded, eager to get going.

  ‘Off you go then. You first, Andy.’

  Brown got out and made his way along the road past Freek’s BMW. From the Toyota, three pairs of eyes watched him until he disappeared inside the nightclub. A few seconds later, Carmichael followed him in.

  The place was heaving when she entered, even more so than the night before. Carmichael made a beeline for the bar, bought a bottle of water, and turned to face the throng of bodies already on the dance floor. Stephen Freek was not among them, as far as she could tell, but directly opposite the bar she spotted Brown’s distinctive pink Superdry T-shirt that, it had to be said, clashed spectacularly with his red hair.

  Carmichael’s eyes followed Brown to the nearest table, where a skinny kid was sitting on his own without a drink. He was wearing ripped baggy jeans, a short-sleeved shirt that was far too small for him and tats on his arms he couldn’t quite pull off. As Brown was talking to the lad, an equally skinny girl joined them, carrying a beer in both hands. She exchanged a few words with Brown, who pulled up a chair and sat down.

  ‘Can I buy you a proper drink?’ a voice behind Carmichael said.

  Feeling Brown’s eyes upon her, Lisa Carmichael swung round on her bar stool and came face to face with a pair of steely blue eyes.

  ‘Here we go.’ Gormley’s hand froze over a bag of cheese-and-onion crisps. Daniels tilted her head, listening, as Carmichael’s voice arrived in the car.

  ‘No, I’m all right, thanks.’

  ‘Go on,’ the male persisted. ‘Let me get you one in.’

  ‘Fuck!’ Daniels glanced at the road as an old man walking a dog stopped by Freek’s BMW. She nudged Gormley’s elbow, worried about the stuff in the back. He opened his door, was about to get out and intervene, when the dog lifted its leg and relieved itself on the back wheel.

  The man walked on and Gormley shut the door.

  Daniels wondered what evidence, if any, the car might contain. Forensics? Hopefully not just the dog’s. Everything? Nothing at all? Freek’s flat had given them zilch and she figured a man that careful would probably have another vehicle in a lock-up somewhere. The question was: where?

  Carmichael’s voice again, only this time more forceful. ‘I said no! Now get lost.’

  ‘You tell him, pet!’ Gormley spoke with his mouth full.

  His crisp packet was now empty. He crushed it in his hairy hands and threw it on the Toyota’s dash. Daniels picked it up and stuffed it in his jacket pocket.

  The male talking to Carmichael wasn’t taking no for an answer.

  ‘You want something a bit stronger than that, surely?’

  ‘Typical bloke!’ Daniels’ eyes switched from the BMW to the front door of Fuse where a number of students were now queuing to get in. ‘She’s given him the brush-off and still he’s coming back for more. What part of “get lost” did he not understand? You think he’ll get the message anytime soon?’

  ‘Thought no really meant yes!’

  Daniels gave Gormley hard eyes but said nothing: her sexist comment deserved his irony.

  ‘Look, I’m sorry, OK?’ Carmichael again. ‘Got really pissed last night. Still feeling the effects. Been chucking up all day.’

  Silence.

  ‘Thanks for the offer though,’ Carmichael added politely.

  The male again: ‘Oh, I get it. You bat for the other side, right?’

  ‘Aaargh!’ Daniels clattered the dash. ‘The arrogant fuck!’

  Gormley stifled a grin.

  Carmichael felt hot. And not in a good way. She watched Blue Eyes wander off, wishing to God she wasn’t on duty. In her own time she’d have decked him there and then. Glancing back over his shoulder, he smiled at her. He had the face of an Adonis and an extremely fit torso: wide shoulders, footballer’s legs and a seriously sexy smile. A nice change from the uniform bods she was used to looking at day after day.

  Shame he was such a nob.

  She gave him the finger.

  ‘Keep walking, dozy!’ Carmichael was still watching him when out of the corner of her eye she saw someone she thought she recognized. Dropping her head, she made like she was looking in her bag. ‘Boss? Pretty sure I just saw Robert Lester. My twelve o’clock. Jeans and a yellow T-shirt.’

  Daniels was straight on the wire to Brown from the Toyota.

  ‘Andy? Lisa’s twelve o’clock. Black guy, jeans and a yellow T-shirt. Could be Jessica’s boyfriend. Keep your eye on him. But Lisa is your priority, understood? Lisa is your priority. You do not let her out of your sight, you hear me?’

  ‘Affirmative,’ Brown came back.

  ‘Is that soon to be Doctor Robert Lester?’ Gormley exhaled loudly, filling the Toyota with cheese-and-onion breath. ‘Well, it didn’t take him long to get over Jess’s disappearance, did it? Thought you said he was gutted, unable to s
leep, about to cut his throat over it.’

  Daniels didn’t answer. She was thinking the same thing.

  ‘Not your type?’ a new voice said. A man’s voice, lower than the first.

  ‘Something like that,’ Carmichael snapped back. ‘Arrogant prick.’

  ‘Christ, she’s popular!’ Gormley said. ‘Never happens to me.’

  ‘Me either.’ Daniels shushed him.

  ‘Who was it said “Youth is wasted on the young”?’ The man laughed.

  ‘George Bernard Shaw,’ Carmichael said. ‘And I’m beginning to think he was right. I much prefer older men. Come to think of it, all my best friends are older than me.’

  ‘Cheeky bitch!’ Gormley said. ‘You think she means us?’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ The man again.

  Carmichael giggled.

  The man: ‘Weren’t you in here last night?’

  Carmichael: ‘Yeah, only then I was the one behaving like an arse.’

  ‘She doesn’t like this one,’ Daniels said.

  Gormley turned to face her. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘Trust me, I know.’

  Daniels was beginning to feel drowsy. She opened the window and then closed it again as a bedraggled group of youths walked past the Toyota, their smoke as well as their laughter and chatter drifting into the car, making it impossible to listen in to Carmichael’s conversation.

  ‘Can’t take my drink, can I?’ Carmichael’s voice again. ‘Thought I recognized you.’

  Gormley looked at Daniels. ‘Is that a signal?’

  ‘Shh . . .’ Daniels held up a hand. ‘She’ll tell us when she’s ready, Hank. She knows what to do. We trained her, remember?’

  ‘Bet you weren’t so proud of her last night.’

  Daniels’ retort was drowned out by a crackling on the wire. People in the club began cheering and whistling, their whoops of applause followed by a continuous, ear-splitting screech that made the detectives grimace in pain.

  Removing his earpiece, Gormley shook his head. ‘What the hell was that?’