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Authors: Mari Hannah
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eyes
bearing down on her, Kate moved quickly on to Maxwell . . .
‘Any news on the DVD from JMR Refrigeration, Neil?’
Maxwell shook his head. ‘Technical support are working flat out. It’s proving difficult to enhance. Light was poor. Both guys were wearing balaclavas. They’re not holding out
much hope.’
Kate wasn’t impressed. ‘What about the rest?’
‘Rest?’ Maxwell queried.
‘Clothing, watches, jewellery, footwear. There must be something distinctive that we can identify. Or didn’t it cross your mind to ask?’
‘Have I done something wrong, boss?’
‘No. Yes. Get back on to them. You need to up your game.’ Kate scanned the room. ‘That goes for the rest of you. I want enquiries made in the nightclubs in and around town.
There’s some real shite coming out of Grant’s club lately. Start there.’
Gormley’s eyes again.
Kate sucked in a breath. ‘Andy, get in there tonight and see what you can pick up. Take Lisa with you. And for God’s sake, be careful. We want results but we don’t want to tip
anyone off.’
The noise level rose as the team disbanded. Before Kate had a chance to slip away to the relative safety of Naylor’s office – he’d asked for a personal briefing – Hank
approached asking if he could have a word, flicking his eyes in the direction of her office.
Kate led the way, expecting earache.
She deserved it.
Hank closed the door behind him. ‘What’s going on?’
She threw herself down in her seat, trying to avoid looking at the message from Towner still lying on her desk. Hank remained standing, eyeing her with suspicion. Reading her. Making her feel
uncomfortable. She wanted to laugh out loud. The best detective sergeant in Northumbria force, her favourite man in the whole wide world, was sulking – but only because he cared about her. On
a previous enquiry they had fallen out when she’d not played by the rules. He’d told her then that if she dug a hole – however big – and jumped in, he’d be there to
haul her out, no matter what the circumstances, but in exchange he expected honesty and openness.
He was staring at her. ‘You wouldn’t be using unregistered informants, by any chance?’
She used her best poker face. ‘Makes you say that?’
‘I know how your brain works. How devious you are.’ He tried for a smile. ‘I couldn’t give a stuff either way, but we had an agreement to play nice, didn’t
we?’
It was true. She’d promised not to exclude him from her exploits ever again. But things were rarely that simple. She stared at him, weighing up the possibilities. Tell him, or protect him
by keeping him well out of it? They were playing a game of blink first.
Hank was winning.
‘So.’ He sat down. ‘Are you using a snout or not?’
‘Might be.’ Her eyes grew big. ‘OK, I am. Happy now?’
He blew out his cheeks. He knew only too well that it could land her in hot water with Naylor, a disciplinary offence at best, a demotion at worst.
‘My call,’ she said. ‘Nothing for you to worry about. And no Form A, understood? We want to catch these bastards, don’t we? My source won’t help me if it’s
official.’ She made a smiley face. ‘You in, or out?’
Hank grinned.
14
K ings Terrace was a tree-lined avenue in the leafy suburb of Jesmond, a couple of miles from Newcastle city centre. Kate was feeling decidedly jaded as she pushed open the gate
to number 45, walked up the path and rang the bell of the smart Victorian house. Since being dragged out of bed she’d viewed two dead bodies, launched a double major incident investigation,
delivered two death messages, worked all day, delegated, directed her team and briefed her guv’nor. She was ready to drop.
An arc of light flooded from the house as the door opened.
As Kate stepped inside, Jo Soulsby took her jacket and hung it on a peg in the hallway. Shutting out the dark, she gave Kate a gentle hug. Kate stood there, arms flopping by her side like
bearing down on her, Kate moved quickly on to Maxwell . . .
‘Any news on the DVD from JMR Refrigeration, Neil?’
Maxwell shook his head. ‘Technical support are working flat out. It’s proving difficult to enhance. Light was poor. Both guys were wearing balaclavas. They’re not holding out
much hope.’
Kate wasn’t impressed. ‘What about the rest?’
‘Rest?’ Maxwell queried.
‘Clothing, watches, jewellery, footwear. There must be something distinctive that we can identify. Or didn’t it cross your mind to ask?’
‘Have I done something wrong, boss?’
‘No. Yes. Get back on to them. You need to up your game.’ Kate scanned the room. ‘That goes for the rest of you. I want enquiries made in the nightclubs in and around town.
There’s some real shite coming out of Grant’s club lately. Start there.’
Gormley’s eyes again.
Kate sucked in a breath. ‘Andy, get in there tonight and see what you can pick up. Take Lisa with you. And for God’s sake, be careful. We want results but we don’t want to tip
anyone off.’
The noise level rose as the team disbanded. Before Kate had a chance to slip away to the relative safety of Naylor’s office – he’d asked for a personal briefing – Hank
approached asking if he could have a word, flicking his eyes in the direction of her office.
Kate led the way, expecting earache.
She deserved it.
Hank closed the door behind him. ‘What’s going on?’
She threw herself down in her seat, trying to avoid looking at the message from Towner still lying on her desk. Hank remained standing, eyeing her with suspicion. Reading her. Making her feel
uncomfortable. She wanted to laugh out loud. The best detective sergeant in Northumbria force, her favourite man in the whole wide world, was sulking – but only because he cared about her. On
a previous enquiry they had fallen out when she’d not played by the rules. He’d told her then that if she dug a hole – however big – and jumped in, he’d be there to
haul her out, no matter what the circumstances, but in exchange he expected honesty and openness.
He was staring at her. ‘You wouldn’t be using unregistered informants, by any chance?’
She used her best poker face. ‘Makes you say that?’
‘I know how your brain works. How devious you are.’ He tried for a smile. ‘I couldn’t give a stuff either way, but we had an agreement to play nice, didn’t
we?’
It was true. She’d promised not to exclude him from her exploits ever again. But things were rarely that simple. She stared at him, weighing up the possibilities. Tell him, or protect him
by keeping him well out of it? They were playing a game of blink first.
Hank was winning.
‘So.’ He sat down. ‘Are you using a snout or not?’
‘Might be.’ Her eyes grew big. ‘OK, I am. Happy now?’
He blew out his cheeks. He knew only too well that it could land her in hot water with Naylor, a disciplinary offence at best, a demotion at worst.
‘My call,’ she said. ‘Nothing for you to worry about. And no Form A, understood? We want to catch these bastards, don’t we? My source won’t help me if it’s
official.’ She made a smiley face. ‘You in, or out?’
Hank grinned.
14
K ings Terrace was a tree-lined avenue in the leafy suburb of Jesmond, a couple of miles from Newcastle city centre. Kate was feeling decidedly jaded as she pushed open the gate
to number 45, walked up the path and rang the bell of the smart Victorian house. Since being dragged out of bed she’d viewed two dead bodies, launched a double major incident investigation,
delivered two death messages, worked all day, delegated, directed her team and briefed her guv’nor. She was ready to drop.
An arc of light flooded from the house as the door opened.
As Kate stepped inside, Jo Soulsby took her jacket and hung it on a peg in the hallway. Shutting out the dark, she gave Kate a gentle hug. Kate stood there, arms flopping by her side like
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