Time to Play (North East Police) Page 19

  Deep down, he knew what Fred had said was true. There was no reason for him to lie. He’d said the words because he knew he would hurt Connor, that it would cut deeper than any knife could. All these years of trying to hold the family together and cope with his mum’s illness and his dad’s reluctance to accept any help: it was all for nothing.

  His whole life was a big fat lie.

  His home life was a lie. Work was a lie, too. They didn’t know who he was, didn’t know that he was the son of a major criminal, that he fed him information on drugs raids to help ease the guilt he felt at not being able to look after his own parents. Which in itself was beside the point now, since his dad wasn’t actually his dad so there was no reason to feel guilt.

  But he did. Guilt threatened to overwhelm him, it was heavy and he didn’t know how he could continue to carry it.

  Sighing again, he tried to remember the last time he had been genuinely happy, the last time he had smiled so wide he’d actually thought his face would split. It took a minute, but he eventually recalled.

  He’d been about fifteen years old. The girl he’d liked at school had passed him a note secretly in class, asking him to meet her later. That she’d sent him a note had been the highlight of his day, and later, when they’d met up under the cover of darkness after he’d snuck out of the house, she had made his night. They’d gone walking by the river, just the two of them. Holding hands and bumping into each other in that accidental way people do when they like someone, where it’s not really an accident but they pretend it is so they can make contact and apologise. And under the light of the moon, he’d had his first kiss.

  That meant it had been almost thirteen years since he had been totally and utterly happy. He’d come close when he’d made the dive team down south. Having a working brain he’d aced the tests and exams, and he had the natural affinity for the water that most divers had. But then they’d found out about his uncle. It hadn’t got to the investigation stage. He’d transferred back up north to get away from Fred and the people he used to call friends. They’d dropped the case as he was no longer classed as an associate. Then his uncle had followed him up north, and the cycle had started again.

  Now it was all threatening to turn to shit again, and he couldn’t help but wonder whether it was worth it.

  After sitting there for almost an hour, he decided it was time to head inside, and head bowed low, the feeling of intense despair flooding every pore, he made his way up the path.

  16th November, 0830 hours – Crankle Reservoir, south of Sunderland

  ‘Brian, move the pipe over to the north west corner. Schematics show a dip up there,’ hollered Paul Deacon, pointing Brian Fellows in the right direction.

  The work on the reservoir had commenced the week before. The council had decided to increase the size of the reservoir to improve flood defences. The first stage involved draining it in sections.

  Brian nodded and made his way along the track to the other end.

  Once the pipe was under the water, the machine trundled and pumped it over the top of the makeshift dam erected by the crew. Paul had been right: there was a hell of a dip at this end of the reservoir. Barry didn’t know if it had been man made, or whether it was just to do with nature. The walled path led along the edge past a small water tower. It was a regular spot for walkers; they’d go from one side of the water to the other and back again to the car park. When it was all done, there’d be car parks at both ends, with a toilet block, too. There were also plans to erect fishing piers for those interested in catching rainbow trout.

  Tourism would help pay for the work, but today no one was around.

  Barry sat back in his chair and listened to the repetitive thudding of the pump. It was days like this he loved his job. The sun was trying to shine, though the air still held the bitter chill of impending winter. Birds were singing in the trees – at least he thought they were, he couldn’t really hear over the pump but he liked to think they were.

  Jumping out of the cab, he lit a cigarette and leaned over the wall to watch the water ebb from the shore as it was transported elsewhere.

  Even now, twenty years into the job, it surprised him what people left at the bottom of a lake. He’d found endless bicycles, water drums and old boots. Once he’d even found a car. That had caused a stir: they’d initially thought there might be a body inside, but the car had been empty. Obviously just someone’s idea of an easy way to get rid of a car for an insurance job.

  He squinted as something started coming into view. It looked quite big, whatever it was. As the water level dropped further, he could make out something that looked almost cylindrical, and murky white in colour.

  The water decreased further still, and Barry felt his eyes almost pop out of his head as he saw, at the top of the shape, a girl’s face. Her eyes open and opaque, her face covered in bruises. He felt himself stumble backwards in shock. Unable to stop himself, he threw up the man-sized breakfast he’d eaten an hour before into the grass.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ he muttered, wiping his mouth then making a cross motion across his face and chest. Jumping into the cab of the pump, he pressed the emergency stop button. The pump fell silent, and he reached for the radio.

  ‘Paul? You need to get your arse over to the north west corner pronto. There’s something here you need to see. Fuck, I’m going to throw up again,’ he said, before sticking his head out of the window and heaving down the side of the truck.

  Minutes later, Paul pulled up alongside the truck and jumped out. Barry pointed at the wall, and Paul leant over, gagging as he saw the girl in the water.

  Grabbing his radio, he barked orders into the mouthpiece, ‘Stop all drainage. All staff head to the cabin and wait there.’

  He waited for the other workers to acknowledge, then turned to Barry.

  ‘Have you phoned the cops?’

  Barry shook his head slowly. ‘Nope, told you first, boss.’

  ‘OK, get yourself over to the cabin. Take my truck and bring the cops when they get here. I’ll ring them now,’

  Tossing the keys at Barry, Paul pulled his mobile from his pocket and dialled 999.

  16th November, 1040 hours – Crankle Reservoir, south of Sunderland

  ‘Yet another one,’ greeted Sharpie, shaking Ali’s hand as he arrived in the small car park at the reservoir.

  ‘Yeah, tell me about it. Like I didn’t have enough to do today,’ grumbled Ali. He’d taken Elvie into the nick with Marlo, then the report of the body had come in and they’d had to leave the kid with the front office staff. He’d phoned his mum to come and pick her up but he’d still have it all to deal with once he’d sorted this mess out.

  ‘You had a look yet?’ asked Marlo, suddenly appearing beside him.

  He felt his heart flutter at the sight of her in the tight black and grey dry suit. It definitely didn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination, and despite the circumstances, he found it hard to tear his gaze away.

  ‘No, wanna go look together?’ An innocent comment, but in his head it felt almost like he’d asked her out on a date. He actually felt nervous in case she said no, which she didn’t obviously.

  Get a grip, McKay. Jesus, what are you? Twelve?

  He followed her to the wall and both of them glanced over. It was obviously a body, fresh judging by the lack of damage around the mouth and eyes. The plastic she was wrapped in was translucent white, and looked to have been tied with rope, cinder blocks attached to keep the body submerged.

  This was definitely no accidental death.

  ‘We’ll launch from the shore,’ said Sharpie from his left.

  16th November, 1050 hours – Crankle Reservoir, south of Sunderland

  Within minutes, Marlo was aboard the RIB with the rest of the team. She’d already been nominated lead diver with Doc as second. Connor pulled the RIB over to the general area, and stalled the engine. Knowing she wasn’t likely to require the oxygen lines, she sat and dipped into the water with a small splash
. As she swam closer, she heard Doc jump in after her. It would be quicker to recover this one as a team rather than trying to work alone.

  Swimming closer to the body, the extent of the girl’s injuries became more visible. Dark bruising surrounded her neck, both eyes were black, and her nose was misaligned. The swelling from the injuries hadn’t gone down. The body had started to bloat slightly under the water, and it gave her face a distorted, mottled grey look.

  The plastic had been wrapped and tied tightly with rope, the only gap around her face. Momentarily, Marlo wondered why the killer had done it – left her face exposed when he’d taken such care with the rest, but she knew it was something she might never find out.

  One thing she did notice immediately though, was that this girl had similar features to the one they’d pulled out at Washington a couple of weeks before. Similar to that one, and similar to Elvie. Dread settled in her stomach. Could it all be linked?

  ‘Where the blocks are, we’ll have to cut the ropes and mark the ends so it’s obvious what we’ve done and which the offender’s done. Don’t wanna confuse the lab.’

  ‘Yeah,’ agreed Doc, ‘trouble is if we remove the blocks, the rest of the plastic might well undo.’

  ‘I dunno,’ said Marlo pulled closer to examine the ropes. It looks like the blocks were added after the plastic. I think they’re on different ropes.’

  ‘Well we can give it a go. Know the forensics team would prefer the plastic intact around the body as opposed to floating out there in the water. Might be something trapped inside they can use. I’ll go grab the bag.’

  Marlo pushed off slightly, intending to go around the body to the other side – working as opposites meant the job got done quicker.

  She swore under her breath as the front of her leg impacted with something hard underwater. Pain pulsed and she felt beneath the surface to ensure her suit was still intact. It was.

  ‘Doc, grab my mask. Wanna check something out,’ she shouted over to the RIB.

  Making his way back over, he handed her the mask. ‘Something up?’ he asked, his eyebrows raised.

  ‘Dunno, just hit my leg on something. Just wanna have a check and see what’s going on beneath the surface.’

  Spitting into the mask, she rubbed her saliva around the clear screen, donned it and pulled herself beneath the surface, carefully in case whatever object had caught her leg was closer than she thought.

  Feeling around in the dark of the water, it would have been easy for her to forget which way was up. Her breath was comfortable. She knew she could hold it for several minutes if needed.

  Suddenly her hand closed round something that crackled together and felt suspiciously like the plastic surrounding the body on the surface. It was obviously slimy, and even her Kevlar struggled to maintain its grip. Using the plastic to guide her, she pulled herself along the length, and pulled back when the corner of something hard hit her in the arm. Fuck, it’s another one. There’s more than one body down here.

  Popping her head back up, she quickly swam to the RIB.

  Ripping off the mask she breathed a couple of deep breaths before speaking to Sharpie. ‘There’s another one. Underneath the one on the top, there’s what feels like another plastic sheet with breeze blocks attached.’

  ‘You sure? Fifteen years on the job and I’ve never had multiple bodies at a dump site. It couldn’t have been the same body?’

  ‘Nope, too deep. The one on top seems to have snagged on a ledge on the wall, that’s why it’s exposed. The other is offset to the left a little, and is at least a foot further down.’

  ‘OK, hang back a sec with Doc. Let me speak to Ali.’

  16th November, 1420 hours – Crankle Reservoir, south of Sunderland

  Ali stood on the shore, shaking his head for the hundredth time that day. He’d spoken to his mum who’d taken Elvie home from the station. There was no way he would have been back in time to help her with immigration. He’d rescheduled on the proviso he would ensure she saw the immigration officer when he was present.

  He pulled himself back into the now – more than one body did not bode well.

  The body of the first girl had been brought to the shore minutes before, and both Kevin Lang, and Ben Cassidy were photographing and applying the plastic bags required over the victim’s hands and feet. They were both absorbed in the task, and he knew that Deena and Johnny were already in the car park to deal with the next one. Cass was finishing at an assault in the town then heading their way too. The full examination of the body would take place in the mortuary under the watchful eye of the pathologist; and Nigel Evans had lucked out again as the on-call pathologist today. He was due to arrive in ten minutes.

  Ali watched as Marlo, now connected to the oxygen line, dipped below the surface to help Doc in recovering the next one. The chief super had already phoned to say he was on his way to the location: two bodies meant someone had thought very carefully where to leave them. Ali had never seen anything like it, and he knew that if it hadn’t been for the draining of the reservoir for flood defence work, then it was unlikely these two would ever have been found.

  Sharpie had called him to say they would use the sonar to get the precise location of the second body prior to recovery. That was what he figured they were doing now. He hoped that one would be as smooth a recovery.

  He’d seen Doc half lift, half push two breeze blocks onto the RIB from the first body before the body itself had been loaded, and that stroppy Connor lad had brought the body to shore. It stood to reason the next one would have similar anti-floatation methods in place.

  He couldn’t hear what was said, but he saw Sharpie talk into the RIB’s radio, and the next second Marlo popped above the surface. Both she and Doc swam over to the RIB and leaned over the edge with their arms, removing their masks.

  For a second he wondered what was being said, and moments later he didn’t have to wonder, Sharpie had been informing the team that the sonar used had picked up five more shapes beneath the water. All immobile, all too big to be a fish, and all of them a similar size and shape.

  Holy fucking shit! Five more bodies? They’re taking the piss. That can’t be right. The chief super will have a bloody aneurysm.

  Instantly he headed over to his team to let them know.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  16th November, 1745 hours – Crankle Reservoir, south of Sunderland

  The dive team had been working stoically and methodically, recovering the next couple of bodies which were now lined up on the shore. Connor was pulling up the fourth and the shore was lined with cops and CSIs. To prevent contamination, each body had been allocated its own CSIs which had meant calling in pretty much everyone on duty force wide. Cass and Kevin, as well as the other supervisor, Jason Knowles, were huddled to one side trying to shelter slightly from the freezing wind that buffeted the scene relentlessly.

  The outer cordon had been set up surrounding the car park and the mobile lounge had finally arrived, providing much-needed warmth and hot drinks to the staff on scene. Even Nigel had called in support in the form of another pathologist.

  The whole scene had a sombre feel to it. The officers talked in hushed tones, quietly taking in the fact that someone had managed to murder and dump seven bodies under their very noses without it even being noticed. The backlash would be a nightmare when it finally came. He wondered momentarily why one had been dumped in Washington and the rest here, then shook his head. That was something he could look at later.

  There wasn't a lot Ali could do until the bodies had been recovered and he knew more of the circumstances. The three on the shore appeared to be of similar race, all were young, and all had been strangled, judging from the marks still visible around their necks. Each one they pulled out was slightly more decayed than the last - the killer had obviously been active for some time and had taken time between each kill. Ali suspected when the PMs were complete it would indicate some form of sexual assault: it was highly unlikely the girls had bee
n taken for anything but that.

  Darkness had already set in, the water becoming black and creepy as the natural light had abated. Large floodlights had been erected around the inner cordon, illuminating the scene so that the investigation could go on. Ali knew the dive team would recover the rest of the bodies before stopping. They would then be taken to the mortuary and the post mortems arranged. Once the bodies were removed, he could leave the scene with the nightshift cops on the cordon for preservation. Glancing at his watch he sighed. It wasn't even 6 p.m. Nightshift were still four hours from starting, but he knew it would take that long before the other bodies were recovered, photographed and removed from the scene.

  How is this even possible? It made him sad. All those wasted lives.

  Walking over to Cass, Kevin and Jason, he said, 'Any chance these girls will be in the system you think?'

  'Doubt it, gov. They all look foreign to me, possibly Polynesian or something. This one's gunna stay with me a while like, they're all babbies for God's sake. Not one of them looks over about sixteen.' Kevin shook his head as he spoke.

  'They look very similar to Elvie,' said Marlo. Ali hadn’t even noticed her approach. She then blushed as she realised what she'd said. 'Sorry, I didn't mean ...'

  'It's OK. You're actually right. I wonder if she knows these girls.'

  'Who's Elvie?' asked Cass, raising her eyebrows.

  'A kid I know,' replied Ali evasively. Jesus I'm gunna be in so much shit over this. I should've just brought her in the first day, let immigration deal with her.

  But a voice niggled in his head that she might actually know the girls now being fished out of the reservoir. She had said there were others on the container, it stood to reason that if Elvie had been trafficked in, then there could have been other containers. The thought made him sick to his stomach. It had always seemed so far removed from Sunderland. He knew it happened a lot down south, that the likes of London and even Manchester had seedy underworlds rife with trafficking and sex. But this was way too close to home.