‘Can you hold the morning briefing tomorrow?’ she asked.
‘No problem,’ he said, as he stepped through the door.
He paused and turned. ‘Oh, and Kim, just because you’re not in control doesn’t mean you can’t be in control.’
Kim smiled as she closed the door behind him.
The smile didn’t last long.
There was a sense of foreboding growing inside her, and she knew it had something to do with her team.
TWENTY-THREE
Dawson had the sudden urge to roll up little balls of paper and flick them across the desk at Stacey. The set expression of her face told him she wouldn’t appreciate it, but he was convinced eventually she’d lighten up and they could exchange knowing glances behind the backs of the adults, like they normally did.
He knew his irritation was from Bryant leading the briefing. They were the same rank, yet he hadn’t been asked to do it. His colleague was standing there trying to fill a boss-sized hole and it wasn’t working.
He knew he was being unfair but he couldn’t rid himself of the phrase ‘Be careful what you wish for.’
Not so long ago he’d confided in his boss that he was sick of working alone and yet one full day of being stuck with Bryant had disabused him of that opinion. Around his colleague he felt constricted, like the man was judging his every move. It affected the way he was doing his job. He just wished the boss would come back and take Bryant off his hands.
‘Any luck with the number that offered Henryk the casual work?’ Bryant asked.
Stacey shook her head. ‘No, but I’m almost finished with tracing the number that sent the racist messages.’
‘Great,’ Bryant answered.
But Dawson knew it wasn’t good news. If one contact was difficult to trace and the other wasn’t, he would bet they’d been sent by different people. And much as he wanted to know who had sent the sick threats to Henryk and his family, he suspected it wasn’t the same person who had attacked Henryk in the car park.
‘Check with forensics, Stace. See if they have anything at all.’
‘Okay.’
‘Is it worth going back to our witness? See if she’s remembered anything else?’ Dawson asked.
Bryant shook his head. ‘I think our time is better spent checking the CCTV.’
Great, Dawson could hardly wait. Hours of poring over grainy images, looking for an average-looking white guy dressed in black. They’d have him by lunchtime.
‘It’s the neighbour,’ Stacey said, suddenly.
Dawson frowned. ‘Huh?’
‘The text messages. The filthy, threatening ones came from the Kowalski’s next-door neighbour, Gary Flint.’
Bryant sat back in his chair. ‘You’re joking?’
Stacey offered him a sharp look.
‘Right next door?’ Dawson asked, feeling the nausea rise in his stomach. The texts had been graphic, violent, sick – and all the time he’d been right next door?
Initially, Dawson had been mystified by Bryant’s decision to move the family into his own home. He didn’t officially know, and he preferred it that way. But he’d overheard the phone calls Bryant had made to his wife. He’d thought his colleague was overreacting, but now he wasn’t so sure.
Bryant grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. ‘That’ll be our first port of call this morning,’ he said, with an authority that caused Dawson to grind his teeth. ‘And Stace, can you check on the rest of the neighbours? See if they’ve got any markers for violence.’ He paused. ‘Particularly numbers twelve, sixteen and twenty.’
Dawson recalled they were the windows with the BNP stickers.
‘Yeah, more busywork,’ Stacey muttered as he and Bryant headed out the door.
Dawson waited until they were outside the building before he spoke.
‘Hey, Bryant, any idea what’s up with Stace?’
Bryant shook his head. ‘Seems okay to me.’
Dawson hid his smile as he got into the passenger seat.
Looked like this wannabe boss didn’t notice everything, after all.
TWENTY-FOUR
Kim idly wondered how many times she could bounce her head off the table before it began to bleed. She had deliberately placed herself at the back of the room so that the frustration on her face would go unnoticed, although the thunk of her skull on wood would definitely elicit a glance or two.
So far, the day was replicating the day before. She had collected Travis from his home, watched the awkward embrace between him and his wife, and spent the journey to the Kidderminster briefing in silence.
Being a ghost at the briefings of a case she was co-heading was beginning to grind on her nerves. She could feel questions bubbling in the back of her throat, despite the silent instruction from Travis that this was his playground.
‘So, are the warrants through for the Cowley family?’ Travis asked, from the top of the room.
The guy with the bandana nodded.
‘Johnson, Gibbs, go along and oversee the search. Remain sensitive to the family and let me know if anything develops.’
The last sentence was completely unnecessary, Kim observed.
‘Lynda, keep in touch with the hospital and let me know when Billy Cowley wakes up. We need to know what happened there.’
Thank goodness he’d seen sense about investigating the so-called shooting accident.
‘Penn, start looking at the description from Doctor A and see if you can match it to any of the missing persons reports.’
‘Any indication of how long back we’re talking?’ Penn asked hopefully.
Travis walked towards Penn’s desk and took back the pot plant from the previous day. He placed it on the top table. ‘And that’s for expecting everything to come to you on a plate, wanting an easy life,’ Travis said, smiling.
Oh, she was trying so hard to stay quiet.
‘What do we know about the Cowleys?’ she asked, taking herself by surprise.
Six heads turned her way. Kim suddenly felt like the naughty kid at the back of the classroom. She realised that analogy was a little too close for comfort.
Travis coloured with rage. She considered for a moment his anger versus her boredom and frustration, which would manifest as rage for the rest of the day. She ignored him and continued. He could thank her later.
‘The family, what do we know? Where’s the mother? Why the obstruction from the daughter? How long have they leased the land? Who?…’
‘Twenty-seven years,’ Lynda offered, answering her fourth question before glancing at her boss.
‘It’s all in the briefing document,’ Travis said.
‘Pretend I can’t read,’ Kim said, ignoring the little darts of hatred coming her way.
Lynda continued: ‘Not sure about the mother yet, but the daughter is a solicitor and the son is a bit of a loser. He’s had a dozen jobs, not lasting in any of them and has been between jobs for the last three years. He still lives at home with his father. Fiona Cowley does not.’
Everyone in the room was now looking at Lynda.