Cath Staincliffe - Hit and Run

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A corpse in the river; a child mown down; a fugitive slaughtered. Three untimely deaths means three murder investigations – unless, of course, they are all part of the same case… Life is tough as a cop at the top – and tougher still with a new baby at home – but when tragedy strikes, DCI Janine Lewis is used to bearing the brunt of the fallout and juggling her home life with the challenges of bringing killers to justice. Starting back at work after maternity leave, Janine finds herself in the thick of two major investigations. The badly battered body of a young woman is recovered from the Mersey River and a schoolgirl is killed in a hit and run. As Janine and her team fight to unravel the story behind each death, Janine struggles with an insomniac baby, a traumatized little boy, an errant ex-husband and a sardonic boss. Hit and Run, the second in the Blue Murder series blends the warmth of family life with the demands of a police investigation in a gripping new thriller from one of Britain's best crime writers

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Janine took in the truculent expression on Stone’s face, the insolence in his watery blue eyes. He was a big man, solidly built, with the look of someone who could ‘handle himself’. No match for a slender girl like Rosa.

‘You work for Mr Harper,’ Janine began. ‘Why did you steal his car?’

‘What car?’ Playing innocent. His eyes mocking her. Janine changed tack. ‘Tell me about Rosa Milicz?’

‘What about her?’

‘You like her?’

‘Not especially.’

‘Why’s that? She turn you down?’

Stone sneered. ‘No.’

Janine sensed the question rankled. She could feel the anger not far below the surface. Like many of the violent men she had dealt with, Stone had a short fuse and his aggression belied an insecurity that made him quick to respond to imagined slights or insults.

‘Mr Harper doesn’t trust you with the girls.’

‘What! A gentleman like me!’ He swung his neck this way and that as he mocked offence. The gesture reminded Janine of the dances of the rap artists Michael used to like; that male posturing, the come and get me pose.

‘When did you last see Rosa?’

‘Sunday. At work.’

‘Did you ever have a relationship with her?’

‘I prefer my brunettes with bigger tits.’ He leered pointedly at Janine.

Prat. She hoped he could read the cold loathing in her expression.

Butchers shifted uncomfortably.

‘Let’s go over everything very slowly again,’ she said, ‘just in case you missed something.’

An hour and a half later, Stone had maintained his brash front and they all needed a break.

In the corridor outside Butchers sighed loudly. ‘What about the witness?’ he suggested.

It was a good idea. If the witness could identify Stone and Gleason as the men she’d seen running from the blazing car, Janine would have stronger grounds for further interviews.

‘Get them in this afternoon if possible,’ Janine told him. ‘Book the ID suite.’

Butchers nodded and set off, looking a little happier now he had a mission.

‘Boss,’ one of the DCs approached and handed her a document with a note attached. These told her that dental records in Poland matched their victim. The dead woman was one Rosa Milicz, believed to be living with family members on the outskirts of Krakow. Least we know we’re talking about the right person now, she thought. She told the officer to arrange for the Polish authorities to make sure any family were formally notified.

Shap came out of interview room two, where he’d been talking to Gleason. He looked fed up.

‘Well?’ Janine asked him.

‘Off-pat but he’s shaking. Yours?’

‘Cocky. Can I?’

Inside the room Shap updated the tape and sat back with his arms folded, happy to let Janine have a crack.

‘I’ve just been having a very interesting talk with Lee Stone,’ she told Gleason, who was rubbing at his long face repeatedly and whose body odour tainted the air. ‘He’s been very helpful.’

Gleason kept quiet.

‘Bit of a chequered past, Lee Stone. Now you, you’ve never been in prison: suspended sentence, community service order. We see that a lot, you know, associates who get dragged into things, get out of their depth. What can you tell us about yesterday morning?’

‘Nothing,’ he said urgently.

‘The car, the little girl?’

‘I don’t know what you’re on about.’ He bit at his thumb nail.

Janine waited a moment, studying him. ‘That little girl died last night. We won’t stop till we’ve got a conviction. Case like this – feelings run high.’

Gleason swallowed, his Adam’s apple large on his scrawny neck.

‘Half eight, nine a.m. where were you?’ Shap asked.

‘Home.’

‘We’ve already got one witness,’ Janine pointed out, ‘saw you and Lee Stone running from the car. And there’ll be others. Evidence too, on the car, in the car.’

‘People make that mistake: fire, think it all goes up in smoke but the technology we’ve got now – fantastic.’ Shap sounded positively delirious.

Gleason’s eyes swerved between the pair of them, he brought his arms across his chest. Defensive, Janine thought, hiding, protecting. He scratched at his forearm.

‘Who was driving?’ Janine said sharply.

The scratching stopped. ‘No comment,’ Gleason said, a waver in his voice.

Sod it. Janine rolled her eyes at Shap. The ‘no comment’ told her two things: Gleason had something to hide and they would not get anything else out of him now.

*****

Butchers stared at the woman. He couldn’t believe he was hearing this. It was all arranged, she was their best hope, and now she was standing there, her eyes shifty, face twitching, telling him she was pulling out.

‘All you have to do is look through the glass. See if the men you saw are there.’

She shook her head, moved as if to go inside.

‘You were happy to help us yesterday. Has someone been getting at you?’

She blinked rapidly, locked him with a defiant stare. ‘No. I just don’t want to get involved.’

‘But the little girl…’ He could barely contain the sense of righteous anger mounting inside him. She had to help them. She had to.

She shook her head, refusing to listen and shut the door.

Butchers stood there, his jaw tight, his hands clenched, his breathing ragged. Across the waste ground the sky arced, a canvas of heavy clouds interrupted here and there by shafts of vibrant sunlight. She’d seen it all from here, Butchers thought, a clear view across to where the car had been left. And now? Had she got kids? He wanted to bray on the door again, drag her out and force her into his car. He waited long enough and then, feeling sick, turned to go.

‘I had to release them,’ Janine told him when he reported to her office. ‘Without that witness…’

‘Changed her mind,’ he laughed harshly. ‘Had it changed for her, more like.’

Shap nodded in agreement.

‘But they’re good for it,’ Butchers insisted. ‘They were seen leaving the car.’ He was agitated, reluctant to accept the situation.

‘By a witness who won’t stand up,’ she said emphatically. ‘We need something stronger. We’ll keep tabs on them, a couple of DCs round the clock, and keep digging. Pull them back in as soon as we’ve a stronger case. We’re getting wall to wall press coverage and I’m sure we’ll get more people coming forward.’

‘But, Boss…’

‘That’s the way it is, Butchers. Deal with it.’ She was surprised at his pushing it. He knew the rules.

‘Now I’m going to pay a call on the Chinleys, later.’ She paused, looking from one of them to the other by way of invitation. Shap avoided eye contact, Butchers showed willing. ‘’Bout five thirty,’ she told him. ‘Come and find me.’

The remaining couple of hours flew by as she read reports from the teams on the cases and double checked that she’d recorded everything she had to in her case-book.

She was almost ready to leave when Richard arrived back from the Topcat Club.

‘Harper wasn’t best pleased to learn Stone is down for nicking his car,’ he said.

‘But he didn’t put Rosa and Stone together?’

Richard shook head. ‘And no one else did either.’

Janine groaned. ‘It’s like juggling soot.’

‘Welcome back.’

She rocked her head from side to ride, trying to ease the tension in her neck. ‘I’ve done a day’s work before I clock on. I knew I’d be stretched but I didn’t expect it to be quite so full on so soon.’

He smiled. ‘How about dinner,’ he said, ‘my treat? Next evening we get free.’

Oh, God. She hadn’t the energy. Any free evenings were for chores and kids and collapsing – not sparkling conversation and long, leisurely meals.

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