[Knight and Culverhouse 09] - In Plain Sight Read online

  Frank looked at Jack with misted eyes, his body shaking. Slowly, he shook his head. ‘I can’t, Jack. I can’t.’

  54

  The job tended to bring a lot of drama and events which resulted in the need to clear one’s head at the best of times, but the last week or so had thrown up some of the most difficult realisations Wendy had ever had to deal with.

  She knew Mildenheath CID would never be the same again. It couldn’t be. It would be forever tainted by Frank’s actions, by what he did. Once the dust had settled, the new dynamics would become clear. It might be that the action would finally move to Milton House. In any case, Wendy knew this was the beginning of a new chapter, and a turning point in her career that she’d never forget.

  After all of the drama and the highs and lows, she was glad to be spending the evening with her feet up in front of the telly with Xav.

  She’d been doing a lot of thinking over the past week or so. Events had put a very different shine on things, and she’d begun to realise — more than ever — what this job meant to people. She looked at Frank Vine, having spent the vast majority of his career as a DS, comfortable in his job, never really pushing himself. He’d got stale, looking forward only to retirement. And when that time had almost come, his boredom had led him off track and his entire career had been thrown away, as if it had never happened. He’d left disgraced, without a police pension and with every little good thing he did completely wiped out by one stupid move.

  ‘I’ve been having a think,’ she said to Xav, who seemed to be on the verge of drifting off to sleep as the bright light of the television danced across his face in the relative darkness.

  ‘Mmmm?’

  ‘I know I’ve said this before, but I mean it this time. I’m going to take the exam. I’m going for the promotion.’

  Xav turned his head and smiled, before reaching his arm across and holding her hand. ‘That’s brilliant news. Seriously. You’re going to be amazing.’

  Wendy smiled back. ‘I just think there’s a lot that needs doing. Mildenheath’s special, but if good people don’t step up to keep it that way, that might not always be the case. I want to help improve things, and that needs me to take a step up. I don’t want everything everyone has fought for over the years to be taken away from us because I didn’t have the guts to stand up. Jack’s spent his career defending this unit, and not just for himself. For all of us, and everyone who went before him. People like Dad.’

  Xav squeezed her hand. ‘I’m proud of you, you know. Listen,’ he said, shuffling awkwardly in his seat. ‘There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. I left it a few days because of everything you had going on, but I think now’s the right time to tell you. I’ve had an offer on my house.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Wendy asked. She’d been certain he’d been doing the bare minimum to get his house sold, sure that he was hanging on to his last shred of independence as an excuse not to commit fully to her.

  ‘Yeah. A bit below asking price, but I think it’s fair. I told them I’d think about it, speak to you.’

  ‘It’s not my house, Xav. I can’t make that decision for you.’

  ‘Oh, I know. I wasn’t asking you to. I know what I’m going to do. I’m going to accept the offer.’

  Wendy smiled again. This would finally mean Xav would move in with her, or that they could eventually put her house on the market too and pool their money together to buy a bigger place of their own. If she had an Inspector’s salary to throw into the mix as well, and if Xav managed to achieve his dream of becoming a specialist officer rather than civilian support staff… This might just be the fresh start they both needed.

  ‘I’m sorry it took me so long,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to be honest, I was a bit worried for a while. I just thought, once the place is gone that’s it. No getting it back. It’s been my home for years, and I kind of felt as if I was intruding on yours. As if I’d always feel like the lodger. And if it doesn’t work, I’d be out on my arse with nothing. I guess I just didn’t want to risk getting hurt again, but then I watched you going into work every morning, always with that risk of losing everything, and I asked myself what the hell I was doing. Why was I so attached to a pile of bricks and plaster? Memories, I suppose. But we can always build new memories.’

  She’d never heard Xav open up quite like this before. He’d usually been more quiet and reserved. She knew he’d had difficulties in the past and had been hurt, but he’d never been keen to tell her much about it. Perhaps they’d both changed. Perhaps they were both at the beginning of a new era. Perhaps they were both ready to move forward.

  55

  The next morning, Jack found himself surprisingly pleased to have been called into the Chief Constable’s office for a meeting with Hawes and Penny Andrews, the county’s Police and Crime Commissioner. It was an event he’d usually have dreaded, but not now.

  The atmosphere in the team had been sour ever since word had got out about Frank’s arrest and everything that had gone before it. There was a horrible air of not knowing who to trust, and whether the rot had gone any further. Even if it hadn’t, everyone felt betrayed by Frank, a man they’d seen as a friend and trusted colleague for many years. All of their efforts had been tainted, and the work they’d done over the years had been largely fruitless, not through their own efforts but because of one of their own thinking he could make a quick buck on the side at their expense.

  Jack had done his best to try to raise morale, but that had been almost impossible. He’d been more seriously affected than any of them, having taken Frank under his wing and relied on him as one of his steadiest Detective Sergeants. The fact that Frank had taken the money rather than coming to Jack and helping him use it to nail McCann once and for all had cut deep.

  Part of him was looking forward to seeing Mildenheath CID wound up. He didn’t know if there was any coming back from this. It wasn’t the way he wanted things to end, but it might be easier than trying to fight the inevitable. In any case, he couldn’t be held responsible for what had happened. There was only one man who could claim that accolade.

  When Jack entered the Chief Constable’s office, he could see that Charles Hawes had been knocked sideways by recent events, too. The man was ashen-faced, although that wasn’t entirely unusual when in the presence of Penny Andrews.

  ‘Jack, thank you for joining us,’ Andrews said, a smug look on her face.

  Jack wondered what possible pleasure she could derive from discovering that one of her officers had been corrupt. This was not the sort of situation for political point scoring, and it demonstrated to Jack exactly why politics and policing should never mix.

  ‘I realise recent events will have been quite distressing,’ she said. ‘I know you have a close-knit team, and the discovery of what had been going on under your nose must have hurt. It’s shocked all of us, and it’s made me realise more than ever that we might need to change a few processes and aspects of the organisational structure in order to ensure integrity and public trust in the police service.’

  ‘Listen,’ Jack said, not in the mood for any nonsense or corporate buzzwords. ‘Just get on with it, alright? If you’re here to shut us down, make it quick instead of beating around the bush and boring the shit out of me, will you?’

  Andrews looked at him, evidently not quite sure what to say. ‘Uh, no. That isn’t what I’ve come here for,’ she said. ‘Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve heard nothing but good things about your team. I know you’re not keen on me, and just think I’m a career politician, but you couldn’t be further from the truth. I care passionately about policing. If I’m going to make the most of my new position, I need the right people around me. I’m offering you the opportunity to work for me, Jack.’

  Jack looked first at Hawes, then back at Andrews. ‘Work for you?’

  ‘With me. Work with me,’ Andrews said, correcting herself. ‘I’m keen that my position isn’t seen as solely political, and I’m looking to bring a couple of s
enior police officers on board as advisors, to ensure we’re all singing from the same hymn sheet.’

  Jack was pretty sure he and Andrews would never be singing from the same hymn sheet for as long as they lived, but he decided to humour her for a bit.

  ‘And what exactly would this role entail?’ he asked, catching Hawes’s eye and seeing no emotion on the man’s face.

  ‘It’s largely advisory, but well remunerated. It’s ideal for a senior officer with a record of long and distinguished service, who may be approaching the end of his career.’

  Jack caught Hawes’s eye again, and this time he thought he detected a glimmer of something — some life and some spark that had returned. Hawes must know that was the sort of comment that would rile Jack. Even though he’d realised himself he wouldn’t be far off retirement, the last thing he needed was to hear it from Penny bloody Andrews.

  ‘I see,’ he replied. ‘And how would that affect the structure of the team here?’

  ‘Well, obviously you wouldn’t remain in your existing role. We might be able to work something out on that front, though. It’s all flexible.’

  ‘What I mean is, is Mildenheath CID safe?’

  ‘Of course. I have no intention to make any changes to the organisation at this stage. The unit will remain as it always has been for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘And that’s a cast-iron guarantee? Regardless of my decision, Mildenheath CID stays as is?’

  ‘Correct,’ Andrews said, smiling.

  Jack looked at Hawes, then back at Penny Andrews. ‘I see. In that case, I think it’s a pretty easy decision to make. A no-brainer, in fact.’

  Penny Andrews beamed from ear to ear. ‘That’s wonderful news, Jack. I’m so looking forward to working with you.’

  ‘Oh no,’ Jack said. ‘Sorry, I think there might have been some misunderstanding. I won’t be taking you up on your offer.’

  Penny Andrews’s face dropped. ‘Sorry? Why on earth not?’

  ‘Honestly? Because I think you’re the worst kind of spineless career politician, using the police force as a stepping stone to your ultimate payday of becoming an MP. You don’t give two shits about anyone other than yourself or furthering your own career and public image. You enjoy trampling over people you see as subordinate to you, you get a kick out of the drama of internal police politics rather than wanting to settle them, and I personally couldn’t think of anything worse than having to spend a second more in your company than I need to. I could probably go on, but I think that just about covers it.’

  Charles Hawes’s eyes were alight, either with shock at what Jack had just done, or schoolboy excitement at his friend having just stood up to the headmistress.

  ‘I see,’ Andrews said, clearly chastened but keen not to let it show. ‘So I presume I should take that as a “no”?’

  ‘I’d use a few more words than that, personally, but that’s about the gist of it,’ Jack replied.

  Penny Andrews shoved her tongue into the inside of her cheek and nodded. ‘Right. Well, thank you for your time, Detective Chief Inspector. Chief Constable. I’ll see myself out.’

  Neither man dared look at Andrews. It was unavoidable that this would come back to bite them both on the arse in one way or another in the future, but for now both were very much enjoying watching Penny Andrews walk away with her tail between her legs.

  56

  Three weeks later.

  * * *

  Gary McCann stepped out through the bi-fold doors, into his back garden and took a deep lungful of the crisp morning air. It was a good time to be alive.

  It was always a good time to be alive, and he particularly enjoyed this time of the morning. Regardless of the time of year, he always came out here first thing and stood with a cup of tea, watching nature wake up in front of him.

  A small nagging voice had, for a short while, told him he might not have too many of these mornings left, but it had quietened down in the last few days. Everything would be taken care of. It always was.

  He knew the police would be busily trying to gather their evidence while he was on bail, awaiting a court date. He also knew it didn’t matter what they came up with — he was always at least three steps ahead of them.

  He loved the English court system, which meant the burden of proof was always on the prosecution, and that the jury had to be left without any reasonable doubt that the defendant was guilty. That watermark was beautiful, and Gary had borne it in mind his whole life. As long as plenty of reasonable doubt could always be introduced, he was home and dry. Introducing reasonable doubt had become one of his most successful business models.

  His brief thought they were in with a decent chance, too. It wasn’t often Gary McCann had found himself in a court of law, but the prospect didn’t scare him. After all, it was just another risk that came with the job. He knew how to play the game better than anyone else, and he didn’t have to stick to the same rules and procedure as the police. Their hands were tied. The burden of proof was on them. It was like throwing stones at a dog tied to a lamp post. It could bark and yap all it liked; it wasn’t getting anywhere near him unless he walked in the wrong direction.

  Word had got back to him that Frank Vine was starting to waver. That wasn’t an issue. Not in the long-term. That could be dealt with. Gary didn’t worry that Frank might take the stand and testify against him, finally developing a conscience after so long. It wouldn’t get to that. The whole issue would be nipped in the bud pretty quickly. He only had to give the word.

  Too many men of his stature ruled with an iron fist. The problem with that was it was short-sighted. When the shit hit the fan and they got arrested and charged, there was no end of people willing to come forward to testify. He’d seen it many times himself over the years. He, on the other hand, had a string of local business owners who’d be only too pleased to help him out in return, especially after he’d saved their livelihoods and families. To them, Gary McCann was an angel.

  He watched as a pigeon landed on his vast lawn and started to peck at the hard ground. The small summer birds had long since disappeared, but they’d be back once the weather warmed up. Personally, Gary enjoyed the winter mornings. He liked watching the rising sun glistening off the frost, feeling the slight burn in his lungs as he took in that first deep, cold breath.

  In the quiet of the crisp Mildenheath morning, he thought he heard the distant sound of footsteps on gravel. He knew straight away what it was, but there wasn’t much point in doing anything about it. It was all part of the process. Nothing new, although they were usually a little lighter-handed than this.

  He leaned back against the house and took in another deep breath of air as he heard, then saw, two men appear in the garden, having scaled the back gate.

  ‘Morning, officers,’ he said, over the sound of them telling him to turn around and face the wall. He raised his hands in the air and smiled. He’d had a fair idea this was coming at some point. It was all part of the game. He didn’t mind. He was protected. If they thought a lowly Detective Sergeant was the height of Gary McCann’s influence, they were gravely mistaken.

  57

  Frank stared at the floor of his cell, shaking. He still couldn’t quite come to terms with the fact he’d been kept in here for so long. It was for his own protection, they told him. There was no way in hell this was safer than being allowed to stay at home. Even Gary fucking McCann had been released on bail. Where was the justice in that?

  Frank knew he’d been thrown under the bus. Yes, he got a slightly comfier bed and a couple of small luxuries other prisoners didn’t get, but these were only holding cells. They weren’t meant to house anyone for more than twenty-hour hours, never mind the best part of a month.

  It was an odd atmosphere. The officers who worked here clearly knew what he was in for. Word will have got around quickly. He could tell by the looks on some of their faces exactly what they thought of him. To most serving police officers, a corrupt officer was worse than a caree
r criminal.

  He didn’t know how he was going to fare in proper prison. Police officers didn’t tend to do all that well, for obvious reasons. He doubted if he’d be given his own area somewhere, away from danger. There’d always be danger. There was no getting out of it now.

  His solicitor reckoned he could get a reduced sentence — perhaps even a suspended one, at a push — if they could convince the jury Frank had been coerced by McCann while in a vulnerable position. His long record of service would help too, but not much. Either way, life had changed irrevocably. Even the minuscule possibility of being completely absolved wouldn’t help all that much. McCann would still be furious, and Frank would always have a target painted on his back. He’d lost his friends, his colleagues. He’d certainly lost his pride. In many ways, prison would be a safer option.

  He jumped as the sound of the cell door unlocking rattled around the cold, concrete room.

  A pair of feet came into view, and he looked up to see the police officer handing him a plate of food.

  ‘Pork in black bean sauce, tonight. And a bread roll. I’ve cut it in half for you,’ the officer said, looking pointedly at him.

  Frank swallowed, took the tray and put it on his lap. He looked at the bread roll and lifted the top off, seeing a glistening steel razor blade nestled comfortably in the fluffy bread, complete with makeshift wooden handle.

  Frank started to tremble harder. Visions of everything he’d achieved, everything he’d lost, came before him. He thought of his wife, of his family. What did it matter? It was all lost now. All gone. All through his own greed, selfishness and stupidity. What did a lifetime of hard graft and good honour count in the face of one daft decision? That wasn’t the way the world worked. It wasn’t a points-based system. People only ever remember the bad things.