Page 5 of Her Last Breath

Jane could imagine the sort of reaction she would get from her team trying to push this case. They’d probably already started typing up the death by drowning, self-induced, report in their heads, glad to get rid of Alice Rogers so they could focus on other things. The real crimes they would get commended on for solving.

Instinctively, Jane knew she couldn’t let this happen. Whatever the cause, that little girl, clutching the old rabbit and looking at Jane with her big questioning eyes, would not grow up without answers.

Chapter 3

Breathless from running up the stairs, Jane took a moment to gather herself. She stared through the glass doors leading to the incident room, where her deputy, Detective Sergeant Johnson was briefing her team, despite her clear instructions to wait.

In his late forties, Dave Johnson was a career police officer. He was smartly dressed as usual, tie missionary precise, as though his suits were a uniform. Jane could imagine him getting ready for work like he was heading into battle. As he was the only Black officer in the team, perhaps it was.

‘You lot better call home, tell them you’re not coming back for a while,’ he was saying. ‘Our schedule just got a whole lot busier.’

He was projecting images onto a wall-mounted screen. The pictures showed steamy plants growing amid a collection of red lamps.

‘DC Berry?’

DC Berry was in his early thirties. University educated, he’d joined the police force after recovering from a combat injury. From his file, Jane also knew he had three young kids at home, scrabbling for his time along with his job.

‘Sir. There was a machete fight over a terraced house being used as a cannabis farm. Two men in their late twenties were badly injured, both in hospital, one fighting for his life.’

‘And are they connected to gangs we have under surveillance?’

‘No, sir. The individuals arrested have all had prior run-ins with the police though, mainly low-level theft and violence.’

‘Good work. Circulate the relevant particulars to the rest of the team, please.’

Jane felt her irritation growing. Having been acting up into her role for months, DS Johnson had been standoffish and unhelpful since she’d arrived. Resentful he didn’t get the job no doubt, Jane saw him now theatrically playing the role of DI. Pissing on her territory.

DS Johnson clicked his remote to change the images on the screen to the haunted, emaciated faces of a half dozen men, their eyes staring at the camera.

‘A tip-off led us to this place,’ he explained. ‘Seven illegal Albanian nationals being used as forced labour on a building site. I’m taking the lead on this.’

Grasping for opportunities to shine, Jane thought angrily. Losing her patience, she opened the doors noisily and pushed inside. The team pivoted to face her, watching her approach in silence. It wasn’t hostility exactly, but it wasn’t trust either. DC Berry looked towards DS Johnson, then dropped his gaze.

‘Morning, everyone, apologies for the delay,’ Jane began purposefully. ‘I made it up the stairs in one piece though, despite what this stitch in my side says.’

No one laughed as she walked to the unused whiteboard, Jane sensing all eyes on her.

‘DC Berry, I want you to take the lead on the trafficking victims,’ Jane announced, countermanding DS Johnson’s instructions. ‘I just interviewed Trish and Rogers, the parents of our missing persons case that made breakfast news this morning. This is going to be our priority today.’

Jane scanned the room, the team looking palpably uncomfortable. DS Johnson was about to protest, but she stared him down. She was in charge and it was time he learnt to accept that.

‘Why wasn’t I informed that Alice Rogers’ body had been found?’

No one responded, few making eye contact, although DC Berry looked more confused than anything. Had DS Johnson lied to them and said he had told Jane?

‘When was she reported missing to us?’ Jane continued.

DS Johnson looked around the team, willing them to be unhelpful no doubt, before taking a seat, squaring his chair so he could face Jane head-on. The silence lasted a beat too long for Jane, so she forced the issue, deciding to approach the shy young detective constable who was sitting close by.

‘DC Chan?’

Detective Constable Elaine Chan was in her late twenties. She was fiercely intelligent, but still unsure of herself as a police officer. She blushed as she tapped at her tablet, her voice carrying a tremor when she spoke.

‘Tuesday the twenty-sixth of August, ma’am.’

Jane wrote the date down in big, neat letters on the whiteboard.

‘Preliminary inquiries?’ she asked, looking directly at DC Chan, blocking out the rest of the room.