George’s hands trembled as she reached for her cell phone and pressed 999.
‘There’s a body. I think she’s dead.’
Chapter Two
Detective Chief Inspector Whitney Walker parked her car and headed towards the imposing Victorian police station. She loved the building, despite the ineffective heating system and it being overcrowded. She’d be sorry to move once the fancy purpose-built station, situated on the edge of the city centre, was finished.
Before she even had time to grab a coffee, she was summoned to the office of her new boss, Detective Superintendent Tom Jamieson, by his personal assistant. She’d messed up on a case which meant the shit was going to hit the fan. Knowing what he was like, she expected he’d be wiping the floor with her.
She tapped on his open office door and walked straight in.
‘You wanted to see me, sir?’
He held up his finger, indicating she should wait a moment until he’d finished whatever it was he was doing. It looked to her like he was just shuffling papers. It was probably all for her benefit, but he needn’t have wasted his time. She took the opportunity to glance around his office. In pride of place on the wall behind him was his degree certificate from Oxford University. He always made sure everyone knew he’d gone there. Wore it like a badge of honour. It didn’t impress her. Well, it did. But not in respect of his job on the force. He’d only been there a short while and had already managed to piss her off big time.
He’d come into policing via the Superintendents’ Fast Track scheme, which meant he had no experience in the field. Unlike her. She’d joined at eighteen and had worked her arse off for her promotion to Detective Chief Inspector. It had been a challenge, especially with her daughter Tiffany to look after and the negative views some of her superiors held, that being a mum and an effective officer was mutually exclusive.
But she was determined to be a success and make a difference. Ever since her brother, Rob, had been attacked by a gang of lads twenty years ago and ended up with brain damage, she’d known what she wanted to do with her life. She remembered the attack as if it was yesterday. The police did hardly anything about it. And never found the boys responsible. She’d move mountains to ensure that wouldn’t happen on her watch.
The trouble with people like Jamieson was they thought their superior position meant they knew better than everyone else. She’d like to see what he’d do when confronted with a drugged up, knife wielding thug. He’d shit himself. As far as she was concerned, he was a highflying paper pusher.
But he was her immediate boss, and she had to answer to him for everything. Usually he left her alone as senior investigating officer to work cases as she saw fit. Except when she screwed up.
He glanced up at her, took off his gold-rimmed glasses, and set them on the desk in front of him.
‘Take a seat, Walker. I’ve called you in to discuss the Hodgson debacle.’
Calling it a debacle was an understatement. Two days ago, she’d orchestrated an early morning raid on a large house in Lewiston, one of the poshest areas of the city. She’d taken fifteen armed officers with her, and a dog handler, as they’d been informed there was a German shepherd on the premises. The dog turned out to be a poodle. And the only drugs in the house were prescribed medication and several bottles of vitamin pills. The fact they’d got the wrong house was bad enough. What was even worse, the house they’d raided belonged to close friends of the Chief Constable.
‘Yes, sir.’ She sat on one of the chairs in front of his mahogany, reproduction antique desk.
‘What happened?’ He leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk.
‘We were misinformed about the location of the drugs.’ From a little shit who was history once she got her hands on him.
‘Didn’t you check the validity of the information?’
Of course not. We picked an address from Google maps and decided to raid it, just in case.
‘Yes, I did. It came from a reliable source, sir.’ Maybe not the best thing to say.
‘Clearly, not reliable enough. Have you spoken to this informant of yours?’
She’d used her informant on several cases, and he’d always come up with the goods. Someone must have got to him. Knowing if all police efforts were directed in a certain place, they could receive the drugs in a different location. How much had they paid her informant to do the dirty on her?
‘Not yet. He’s disappeared.’
They’d tried all his usual haunts. It was like he’d vanished off the face of the earth.
‘It gets better by the minute. I will not tolerate fuck ups of this nature. The Chief Constable’s breathing down my neck wanting answers. What am I to tell him?’
‘My team are on it. We’ll find the informant.’
‘You’d better, because if you don’t, you can forget being SIO on any case for the foreseeable future. Traffic duty will be your remit. And that’s on a good day.’
Whitney bit back a retort. Okay, she accepted she’d fucked up, but that was the first time. As her boss, he should have her back. She knew his game. He didn’t want to be tarnished by the fallout; it could jeopardise his promotion prospects. Well, she had news for him. They’d all been tarnished by it. The operation had cost the department thousands of pounds to set up. Not to mention the damage it had caused her reputation and the jokes she’d had to endure.
‘Yes, sir.’
He had his sights set on being a Detective Chief Superintendent as soon as possible. The trouble with fast track entrants into the force was they lacked the knowledge of real police work and thought everything should be done via the textbook. She’d like to know where in the texts you learn how to deal with double crossing informants who disappeared without a trace?
Her mobile rang, and Jamieson nodded for her to answer.
‘Walker.’
‘I’m at the university campus. A body’s been found by the river,’ Matt Price, her Detective Sergeant, said.
‘Okay. I’ll be there shortly.’ She ended the call.
‘Problem?’ Jamieson asked.
‘We have a body at the university.’ She stood up to leave.
‘Walker.’
‘Sir?’ she replied, turning back to face him.
‘This is your last chance. Don’t fuck it up.’
Chapter Three
Whitney seethed as she drove to the crime scene. However hard she tried to be objective about Jamieson, he rubbed her up the wrong way. Even the way he breathed loudly through his mouth when concentrating drove her crazy. And she wasn’t even in his company often.
She drove through the imposing university gates and headed towards the river. She rarely came onto the campus, unlike her daughter Tiffany. When Tiffany passed her A-levels and got accepted to study engineering here, Whitney had been so proud. Her daughter was the first person in their family to go to university. It would lead to so many opportunities for her.
She pulled up beside the outer cordon and hopped out of her car.
‘Guv,’ Matt said, walking over as she opened the boot and took out a pair of disposable gloves.
She liked Matt. He worked hard and relentlessly until getting a result. If she asked him to do something, it would be done. He had a bright future ahead of him.