by Mari Hannah
Hank held up the list. ‘Before or after I finish this?’
‘Now!’ Atkins raised his voice, addressing the whole squad. ‘The rest of you, get on with it. We can’t afford to hang around. I want you to pull out all the stops on this one.’
Kate bit the inside of her cheek, trying to keep her temper in check. ‘Before we do that, could you elaborate on what we know about Collins?’
‘I know quite a lot,’ Atkins said.
‘And we’d like to hear it,’ she replied.
‘He has form and he’s a process operative on a food production line.’
‘He works in a slaughterhouse?’ A chill ran down Kate’s spine. She had visions of strong arms hauling sides of beef onto meat hooks in a refrigerated warehouse.
‘As good as,’ Atkins said. ‘It’s low-paid menial work: packing, basic cutting, labelling, shrink-wrapping, that kind of thing. Shift work. Unreliable too. I have it on good authority that he’s not averse to the black economy: under-the-counter stuff HMRC never get wind of. He supplements his income by doing odd jobs. Always for cash, including farm work – occasionally using a quad bike – which means he’ll also have access to rope.’ He ended on that dramatic note. Smug didn’t come close to capturing the expression on his face.
The team was stunned into silence, the words ‘quad bike’ and ‘rope’ together with ‘slaughterhouse’ compelling them to listen. Kate was as excited by the development as anyone in the room but deeply suspicious of information Atkins seemed to have plucked from the air. He appeared to be the only one privy to the new intelligence – a state of affairs adding weight to her theory that he had prior knowledge of the dead boy and possibly his friends.
‘Hang on,’ she said. ‘Where did this information come from?’
‘Later.’ He waved a hand impatiently, dismissing her concerns. ‘I’m due at the press office.’
‘You’re not going to make it public?’ She was horrified.
Atkins was livid. ‘I’ll do as I see fit.’
‘You can’t! Please, we need to talk about this.’
‘You have ten minutes,’ he said. ‘Then I’m out of here.’
She eyeballed him. ‘What I have to say would be better said in private.’
‘Here is fine.’ He was banking on her discretion, point-blank refusing to leave the room, despite her warning shot. She wouldn’t plead with him a second time. To hell with diplomacy: what was needed was a dose of brutal honesty.
‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ she said. ‘This is a chaotic way to run a murder enquiry. You need to authenticate that information. What do you expect Harry to do with it, reference-wise? A scrap of paper from an SIO just isn’t good enough. He needs your source. Every member of the team needs to know where you came by the information, otherwise they’re working blind. Things’ll get missed. That’s what the bloody guidelines are for.’
Atkins made no reply.
It was clear to everyone in the incident room that he had something to hide. Kate wasn’t about to let things lie. She wanted a straight answer. Nothing less would do.
‘Don’t make things difficult for yourself,’ she said. ‘Tell us where the information came from.’ Her mobile rang and he walked away. ‘I’m not finished!’ She flinched as his office door slammed shut. Hank opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and closed it again as she took the call.
‘Daniels,’ she snapped. ‘What did I say about interruptions?’
The line was open but no one spoke. She glanced at the phone in her hand. It was her personal mobile, not her work one. She calmed down, counted to three before continuing.
‘Hello?’ She listened as the silence stretched between her and the caller on the other end. ‘Who is this?’
Nothing.
Hank and the rest of the team were getting curious.
Rolling her eyes at them she spoke bluntly into the handset. ‘This is DCI Daniels. Speak or the phone goes down.’
‘Inspector, my name is Beth Casey?’ It was a young female voice.
‘Beth?’ Kate was stunned to hear the name. ‘Are you in trouble?’
‘I’m outside. Can I see you? I know you’re busy – I wouldn’t ask, but it’s dead important.’
Kate walked to the window, parted the vertical blind, scanning the car park below. A pathetic figure, with little on, shivered near the perimeter fence in the pouring rain. From her position the DCI couldn’t see a face – and was unable to confirm identification. She was desperate to get out there and talk to the girl.
‘Wait there,’ she said. ‘I’m coming down. Second thoughts, meet me in reception.’
The figure moved towards the station’s main entrance and disappeared from view. Kate let go of the blind and hung up. Across the room, Hank’s eyes were asking questions, imploring her to share what was going on. Dragging him into the corridor away from the others, she checked that they were alone before speaking, dropping her voice to a whisper, heightening his curiosity further.
‘There’s a girl downstairs. She wants to talk to me.’
‘Girl?’
‘Beth Casey.’ She nodded towards Atkins’ office door. ‘Make my apologies. Tell Mr Angry I’ve been called away urgently. No details.’ Raising her right forefinger, she pointed at him. ‘And do not mention the name to anyone, understood?’
Hank nodded. ‘Why?’
‘Tell no one – I mean it.’
‘Who is she?’
It was her turn to divulge a source. She glanced at the phone still in her hand, then at him. ‘She’s Atkins’ daughter, and I happen to know that she lives in Elsdon.’
It was clear from the intrigue on his face that he was way ahead of her. ‘You think she knows something?’
‘I’m about to find out. Whatever you do, keep him away from the interview suite.’
‘That won’t be hard. Don’t suppose he knows where it is.’
‘This is no laughing matter, Hank.’
‘I know, I’m sorry. How do you propose I keep him out of the way?’
‘Pick a fight with him. It works every time.’
Hank grinned, rubbing his hands together as if this was the best offer he’d had all day. Kate watched him swagger into the incident room, then ran the other way.
24
Kate could feel the agitation through the door as it opened onto reception. Apart from the mascara running down the young woman’s face, Beth Casey had hardly changed facially since the last time she’d seen her, over a decade ago. Now as then she was drenched and sobbing into a tissue. A sorrier-looking kid would be hard to find. There was an unmistakable flicker of recognition in her eyes as she looked up, a connection to a past incident they would both rather forget. One thing was clear: for the second time in her life, this woefully unhappy girl needed police intervention.
‘Miss? Can I help you?’ a civilian clerk called out from reception.
‘I’ll handle it,’ Kate said, turning to Beth. ‘You wanted to see me?’
The girl was nervous. ‘Is there somewhere private?’
Kate glanced at the clerk. ‘Is there an interview room free?’
‘Number one needs a clean. I wouldn’t go in there. Use four instead.’
‘Can you arrange for some tea, please?’ The woman nodded politely, although her expression said: What am I – your skivvy? Beth had risen to her feet, water dripping everywhere. Kate’s eyes shifted to the desk clerk. ‘Actually, cancel the tea, I have a better idea.’
Turning away, she punched a number into a security pad and led Beth along a corridor and up a flight of stairs to the women’s rest room, somewhere she knew Atkins definitely wouldn’t find them. There were a couple of easy chairs in there, washing facilities, dry towels and tea. It wasn’t exactly homely, but there was a chance they might have a decent one-to-one conversation. It was better than a clinical, windowless interview room on the floor below, intimidating for those who’d not had the pleasure.
Grabbing
a fresh towel, she handed it to Beth. ‘Here, use this, before you catch pneumonia.’
While Beth dried her hair as best she could, Kate put on the kettle, dropped a teabag into a mug and waited for the water to boil, thankful that the girl was over seventeen. Had Beth been younger, she would have been legally obliged to find a parent or responsible adult – and that would have been a very different exchange.
When she turned back to the girl, Beth had slumped into a chair. She looked worn out – more sad, Kate guessed, than anxious. Handing her the mug of tea, Kate sat down across from her, offering a smile of encouragement. When Beth didn’t return the greeting, the DCI chanced her arm. If Atkins knew the victim – and Kate believed he did – chances were his daughter did too.
‘Have you come to talk about your friend, Elliott Foster?’ she asked.
Beth immediately misted up. Her reaction was an answer in itself – the only one Kate needed to start a dialogue she hoped would bring her one step closer to finding a killer or killers and putting them away. Elliott’s death was a tragedy for his friends and family; from what she’d seen, the entire community was in mourning for a popular young man.
‘I’m very sorry for your loss,’ Kate said. ‘How are you holding up?’ It was a daft question. The girl was obviously in bits. The DCI delved further, trying to gauge the strength of her relationship with the victim. ‘Were you very close? Your dad never said—’
‘Yeah, like he’d know.’ The sentence was uttered with venom.
So they did know each other.
‘He didn’t even tell me who it was until I saw the report on TV. Can you believe that?’ Beth’s head went down and she began to cry.
Kate found herself defending Atkins – for his daughter’s sake, not his. ‘Don’t be so hard on him, Beth. Maybe the name didn’t register. In our job we come across a lot of people. To be fair, it’s a long time since he lived up Alwinton way. Several years, isn’t it? I’m sure he didn’t do it on purpose. He probably has a lot on his mind.’
‘Not me, obviously! And since when was he ever fair?’
‘No, well,’ Kate said. ‘What can I do for you?’
There was a moment’s hesitation before Beth calmed down, apologized for raising her voice and found her resolve.
‘I was there,’ she said.
A bomb exploded in Kate’s head, shrapnel falling all around her. She wasn’t sure if she’d misheard – if she was relieved or disappointed – but if Beth proved to be an eyewitness, serious repercussions would follow. Whatever else happened, Atkins could no longer take the role of SIO. And, if he didn’t, with the department stretched to the limit, who the hell would?
Misreading Kate’s concern, Beth began to panic.
‘I was there,’ she repeated, ‘but not where he was found – I didn’t mean that. I was in Elsdon in the early evening. That’s what I meant.’
‘You witnessed the fight?’
Beth nodded, tears streaming down her face.
This was difficult for both of them. From anyone else, this information would have been welcome. The fact that it had come from a colleague’s kid made things extremely difficult for the DCI.
‘Why didn’t you come forward?’
‘I wanted to . . . but I was scared.’
‘Of who?’
The girl dropped her head in her hands and began to weep. Kate made the jump to Atkins in a flash. Beth raised her head, ashamed and humiliated by her irresponsibility. Her father was a policeman. She ought to have known better and didn’t need Kate to tell her that.
The DCI took in her skinny frame. Beth’s blonde, curly hair had frizzled in the rain. It hung damp and straggly around her face. Her tights were soaking wet, as were her skirt and shoes. She was positively shivering.
‘Listen, we need to get you dry and then we’ll talk properly.’ Kate got to her feet. ‘I have some spare kit in my car you can use. Wait here a moment and I’ll get it.’
‘I’m fine.’ Beth pulled her coat around her, hanging on to the familiar like a comfort blanket. ‘Is he here, in the station?’
‘Your father?’ Kate gave a nod and sat down again. ‘Don’t worry, Beth. I’m sure we can sort this out. He’s not going to like it, but I’ll break it to him gently. Is that why you wanted to talk to me first, so I could deal with it on your behalf?’
She was nodding. ‘I told Mum about Elliott this morning. It broke her heart. She adored him. We both did. When I told her I was there and that I hadn’t come forward, she went ballistic. She gave me your number and told me to get in touch.’
‘I’m surprised she still has it.’
‘I’m not. She carries it in her purse wherever she goes. Mum said you’d given it to her in case she ever needed you. I didn’t want to come. She said I had no choice.’
‘She’s right, Beth.’
‘She said you’d know exactly what to do.’
Kate paused. ‘You must realize that this is not something I can keep to myself – you being at the scene of the fight, I mean.’
‘You can’t tell my dad I was there. You can’t!’
‘He’s the Senior Investigating Officer. If I don’t tell him, someone else will.’
Beth stood up suddenly, her face set in a scowl. ‘I’m going now.’
‘Beth, please, sit down.’ The girl glared at the DCI, as if by sticking up for him Kate was somehow betraying her. ‘You’re going to have to trust me, Beth. I’m all you’ve got. Think about it. You know I can’t deal with this behind your father’s back. Whether or not you or I like it, he’s in charge of this case. Believe me, if there was a way round it, I’d take it. There isn’t. You’re an adult. If nothing else, he’ll have taught you the difference between right and wrong.’
‘He’s a hypocrite!’
‘Either way, you’re going to have to front up and face the consequences. As soon as we round up the persons responsible for Elliott’s death, your name will come up and then where will you be? You need to tell me exactly what you know. The sooner you do that, the sooner I can help you. I have to be honest, this is about as serious as it gets, for you and your dad.’
‘I hate him!’
Her words were like a distant echo.
Kate was suddenly a young DS, standing in a street in torrential rain, a child’s hand gripping hers, Detective Sergeant James Atkins’ threats ringing in her ears, a terrified woman looking out through the window of the terraced house behind him. The image was so vivid, Kate could almost feel the weight of her sodden clothes, hear the squawk of her police radio asking if she required assistance.
She tried again. ‘Are you a leader or a follower, Beth?’
Kate had asked herself the very same question all those years ago as Atkins tried to intimidate her, begging her to cover up his detestable behaviour. She didn’t feel comfortable speaking to his daughter without his knowledge.
Still, this was no time to share that thought.
‘I understand you not wanting to lose face in front of your dad or your friends, but if you cared for Elliott, you must see we need to catch whoever did this to him. These people are extremely dangerous. If they get away with it, they might do it again.’
‘He’ll kill me!’ It came out in a whisper of confusion. Beth dropped her head in her hands and sucked in a breath. Kate felt for her. She was about to tell her that she was overreacting, that her father loved her very much, even if he didn’t always show it, when the girl began to cry. ‘I can’t . . . I . . . he’s . . . so angry.’
‘If it’s any consolation,’ Kate said. ‘He’s angry with me too.’
The uneasy expression on Beth’s face lifted as she looked up.
For a split second, the DCI wondered if they were talking about her dad or someone else. She hesitated, not wanting to push her too far, too soon, for fear she’d lose her trust. Urging her to reconsider, Kate was relieved when Beth retook her seat, her childish outburst in check. Resigned to her fate, the girl began to speak freely. She was getting i
nto her stride when the door flew open at the most inopportune moment, startling her.
Kate swung round to face the officer who’d wandered in. Resisting the urge to scream at her to get out, she said brightly, ‘Jill, can you give us a minute, please?’
Realizing she’d walked in on something delicate, the officer apologized for the interruption. ‘You want me to put an “Out of Order” sign on the door?’ she asked.
‘If you would.’ Kate thanked her. ‘By the way, anyone asks, you never saw me.’
Nodding her understanding, the officer backed away, leaving them to it.
Beth waited until the door closed behind her. ‘My dad will hate that you’re seeing me, won’t he?’
Kate nodded. Honesty was being asked for. It was the least the girl deserved in return. ‘We can’t help that, though, can we? It’s really him we should be talking to.’
‘I can’t talk to him about what I want for breakfast,’ Beth said. ‘What chance do I stand discussing something as terrible as this? Do you have kids, Inspector?’
‘No. And you can call me Kate.’
‘Want any?’
‘No.’ Kate thought twice about admitting that, but it was a truthful answer. She’d given up that option in pursuit of her career, creating a rift with her own father as a result. Another one. Why he wanted grandchildren when he couldn’t stand the sight of his own daughter was one of life’s mysteries. Some people were fickle. ‘Why d’you ask?’
‘Detectives make shit parents,’ Beth said. ‘Shit everything, in fact. No offence. It’s because you’re married to your jobs, Mum said.’
Kate couldn’t argue with that. She’d made a mess of her own relationship for sure. ‘How is your mum?’ she asked, changing the subject. ‘I’ve not seen her for ages.’
‘She’s dying.’
Kate was shocked at her bluntness.