Cath Staincliffe - Ruthless

Back inside the police station, the incident room was deserted. Plenty more to be done but nothing that couldn’t wait until morning. A wave of exhaustion made Gill dizzy. A good night’s sleep, that was what she needed, something decent to eat, an hour of telly, a chat with Sammy. Some routine. The team would be in the pub. She’d show her face, important to be there celebrating their success, to be part of it.

Just Rachel and Janet left now. The lads had stayed for a drink then gone to a pub down the road to watch the match. Mitch had gone home after showing his face. He had a young family and his work meant he missed out on a lot of the domestic stuff. He made up for it whenever he could.

‘He wasn’t thick, was he?’ Janet said. ‘Connor. Not like Noel and Neil Perry. He can’t have thought he’d get away with it.’

‘Search me,’ Rachel said. You could drive yourself mad trying to work out why people did the stupid stuff they did.

‘That hatred, living with it day in day out. It’s easier to fix on that, to blame other people, outsiders, isn’t it?’ Janet said.

‘What for?’

‘For everything that you hate about your miserable little life. But it’s like a split, isn’t it?’ Janet said. ‘He’s matey enough with Victor and Lydia, hangs around there. Probably likes the attention, he’s only fourteen, they’re dealing. Victor trusts him enough to hand him the gun, then it’s like someone’s flipped a switch. Bang bang. What did he think would happen? His dad pats him on the head and trains him up in the family business. No comeback, no repercussions. Did he think we wouldn’t catch him?’

Rachel thought of Dom – it was the same, doing idiotic stuff, no thought of the consequences. Decisions that ended with you banged up with the other lowlifes and hard men, the nutters and the knob-heads. Going slowly demented staring at the walls of a cell twenty-three hours a day.

‘He made a decision, a bad one. He pays the price. We all have to live with what we’ve done.’ Rachel drained her glass.

‘You should go,’ Janet said. ‘Sean’ll forget what you look like.’

‘He’ll be watching the game. No rush. Anyway, shouldn’t you be at home with Elise and everything?’

‘I should. I will. Soon.’

The door flew open and there stood Godzilla, a raptor waiting to pounce.

‘Oh, fuck,’ Rachel murmured, ‘now what’ve we done?’

She came over to them, stopped by the table. ‘The others gone?’

‘Yes,’ Janet said.

‘You’re still here?’ She fixed her beady eyes on Rachel. ‘Could have sworn I sent you home. So, you’ll have another?’

‘Maybe I should get going…’ Rachel reached for her bag, felt the tug of pain in her arm.

‘You’ll not have me drinking alone?’ Her Maj said brightly.

‘Course not,’ Janet said, ‘mine’s a white.’

‘Red, ta,’ said Rachel, giving in.

Godzilla nodded. ‘Chief super’s calmed down,’ she said. ‘Violent crime stats are through the roof, our place in the league tables may be shot to buggery but our clear-up rate is, as of today, bloody amazing.’

Rachel waited for the sting in the tail; it didn’t come. Instead the boss said, ‘You all right mixing red wine with whatever the hospital’s pumped you full of?’

‘Constitution of an ox,’ Janet said.

‘What is an ox anyway?’ said Rachel.

‘Half horse, half donkey?’ Janet said, like she wasn’t sure.

‘That’s an ass,’ the boss said, ‘which is more like it. Not known for their forward planning and risk assessment.’

Bingo .

‘An ox,’ Her Maj went on, ‘is cattle, a castrated adult male. Peanuts?’

They both shook their heads and she made for the bar.

Rachel turned to look at Janet, whose eyes were twinkling.

‘Cheeky bitch,’ Rachel said. Janet laughed and that set Rachel off. It hurt to laugh.

‘Do you think we’re forgiven?’ Janet said.

‘You, maybe. Me? Never.’

‘Oh, go on, look at how she stood up for you when all that stuff with Dominic went down. She knows you’re a good copper, could be great. Just need some fine tuning…’

‘I’d kick you if I wasn’t in such bloody agony,’ Rachel said.

Godzilla came back in no time, tray in hand. Deposited the drinks and sat herself down. Raised her glass. Rachel and Janet did the same.

‘To us,’ she said.

‘To us,’ they echoed.

‘And sod the lot of them.’

‘Sod the lot of them.’

The cab took Rachel back past the hulk of the warehouse, spotlit as the process of demolition began. She saw a shadow in a doorway at the shops. Someone up to no good? Someone with no place to sleep? She wondered what Shirelle would do after her stint inside, bound to be sent down as far as Rachel could see. Would she go back to the old life or turn her life around? Rachel knew the rehabilitation rates for prisoners were pitiful.

Information had reached them that Stanley Keane was in Spain, could take months to get him back to answer charges even if they could track him down. Some other person would move up the hierarchy of Williams’s business. What would Shirelle think when she realized it was Connor who’d killed Victor and Lydia? Killed them because of the colour of their skin, to earn a few Brownie points with his father. A scrawny kid on a stunt bike who could have made something of his life, with the right support. Now the pinnacle of his life, the defining moment, a double murder.

Rachel tensed as the taxi swung left, not wanting to jar her arm.

Janet had waited outside the pub with her for the car. Godzilla had gone.

‘She’s a bit hot and cold,’ Rachel said.

Janet looked then said, ‘She’s got a lot on.’

‘Such as?’

Janet had given half a laugh but not said anything else. Just looked at Rachel, her big eyes smiling, then pulled a soppy face. ‘If you’d-’

‘Don’t,’ Rachel said.

‘It’s just-’

‘Don’t. I know.’

‘It’s going to be all right,’ Janet said after a moment.

And Rachel didn’t really know what she meant. Stuff at work or what had happened with Elise or whatever mystery trauma was going on with Her Majesty or if she was on about Dom and Rachel’s mother.

Rachel said yes anyway. ‘Yes, course it is.’ Even though inside she didn’t know. She really didn’t know. Because anything might happen. Anything did happen. Day after day. Year after year. A lot of it messy and shitty and wasteful and sad. But that was life. You got on with it.

What the fuck else could you do?

Thanks again to Sarah Adams, Bill Scott-Kerr and Rachel Rayner at Transworld for inviting me to write the Scott & Bailey novels. Thanks to Sally Wainwright and Diane Taylor whose wonderful characters continue to be a joy to work with, and to Suranne Jones, Lesley Sharp and Amelia Bullmore who bring them to life in such memorable ways. Thanks also to Keith Dillon for generous help and advice about police work – any mistakes are mine. Some are deliberate! And many thanks to my agent Sara Menguc for her unstinting hard work and encouragement.

Cath Staincliffeis an established novelist, radio playwright and creator of ITV’s hit series, Blue Murder , starring Caroline Quentin as DCI Janine Lewis. Cath was shortlisted for the CWA John Creasey Best First Novel award for her acclaimed Sal Kilkenny series, and for the Dagger in the Library award in 2006. Her latest stand-alone novels all focus on topical moral dilemmas. She was joint winner of the CWA Short Story Dagger award in 2012 for Laptop . She is a founding member of Murder Squad, a group who promote crime fiction.