He shrugged his shoulders. “I smell cop — and senior cop at that.” He tapped his nose and turned away. “Get you a cuppa?” he shouted back making for the office kettle.
Hunter’s head was suddenly elsewhere, especially with everything that had gone on with his father. His recent discovery that the offenders who had been arrested in the car which had run his parents off the road were from one of the sink estates near Glasgow came to mind. He had managed to track down the officer in the case from North Yorkshire only to have been told that he had handed over the paperwork to a female DCI up in Stirling. After several phone calls he had finally managed to determine who the Detective Chief Inspector was and he had left four messages for her, none of which had been returned. Over the last few days whenever he had thought about it he couldn’t help but sense that he was being deliberately kept out of the loop.
He rubbed his chin and pondered whether this was the DCI who was running his father’s investigation. Well there was only one way to find out.
He picked up the signed magistrate’s warrant for the Hassans. It was a good excuse to get a foot in the door.
He made his way down the corridor and could spotted that the Detective Superintendent’s door was ajar. He slowed his pace and strained his ears hoping to pick up some of the conversation. A woman’s voice drifted out. Definitely Scottish, though he couldn’t make out what she was saying. He paused at the door for a second then rapped.
“Come in”
Hunter entered Michael Robshaw’s office. The redheaded female was in one of the comfy armchairs in the office looking relaxed. She glanced up at him and flashed a smile. He remembered what Tony Bullars had said. She certainly was attractive and looked to be in her late thirties. She was wearing a well-tailored dark blue trouser suit over a white cotton blouse. A visitor’s badge had been clipped to her jacket breast pocket; he couldn’t make out the name. A folder lay open across her lap. He drifted his gaze and tried to get a glimpse of it. She snapped it shut as if she knew what he was doing.
He flashed a false smile to her, nodded and turned to his SIO. “Got the Op order and warrant for the Hassans this Sunday boss.” He held out the documents.
“Okay Hunter.” He reached across and took the paperwork, gave it a quick once-over and then dropped it onto his jotter. “I gather no problems with it.”
Hunter shook his head.
“Smashing. Everything is in place as well?”
He nodded again.
“Right thanks for that, tell everyone briefing’s at seven thirty am Sunday.”
It felt like he was being dismissed. He turned to the redhead. “I couldn’t help but notice your Scottish accent. My dad’s from Glasgow.” That was a good opener.
“Oh yes — yes. I’m from Stirling.”
“This is DCI Leggate,” interjected Det Supt. Robshaw.
“Not DCI Dawn Leggate?”
“Yes,” she responded, sounding surprised.
“I’ve been trying to track you down for the past few days. I was told by North Yorkshire Police that you’d taken over the job investigating my parents’ hit and run. Apparently you’ve arrested two for it.”
“Oh yes — yes of course. You’re Hunter Kerr?”
Her voice seemed hesitant to Hunter.
“Have they been charged?”
“Has your father not said anything to you?”
“No I didn’t know if he knew or not. It’s been like getting blood from a stone just lately.”
“Well things have been discussed with him. He knows where we are in our enquiry.”
“Can you tell me then?”
“Well — er.”
For a second Hunter thought she appeared flustered.
“You should know better than that. Confidentiality DS Kerr.”
“But this is different. I’m a cop.”
“So you should be even more aware then. I’m afraid I can’t tell you anything. It’s an ongoing investigation. I suggest you speak with your father.” Her return was abrupt.
“Sorry to interrupt Hunter but I have a few things to discuss with DCI Leggate,” Detective Superintendent Robshaw interposed. “If you could excuse us.”
Hunter knew from their reaction that there was something more to this but he was being dismissed.
“And if you could close the door behind you Hunter? Thank You,” added Michael Robshaw.
* * * * *
Hunter sank into his armchair and rested his eyes. He felt drained and had a thumping head and the TV was interfering with his thoughts; everything was spinning around in his head. He heard the patter of Beth’s slippered feet come down the stairs and enter the lounge; she had just tucked up Jonathan and Daniel in their beds. He snapped open his eyes.
“You look tired,” she said dropping down on the sofa with a big sigh. “Boys were lively tonight?”
“Sorry Beth I should have taken them up tonight and given you a break.” He tried to focus on the TV programme but it was washing over him.
Beth pushed herself up and turned towards him. “All right Hunter what’s the matter? You’ve been at odds with yourself since you got home. Something gone off at work?”
He shook his head. “It’s my dad again.” He told her about the brief meeting with DCI Leggate earlier in the day. “I called in at mum’s on the way home but they weren’t in and I’ve rung their mobiles and dad’s gym but there was no answer.”
“Look Hunter do you think you might be reading into this more than you should be?”
He pursed his lips. “I thought that myself, but it was the way both the superintendent and the DCI reacted when I tried to probe about mum and dad’s incident. She gave me all the confidentiality crap. You know cops don’t do that with other cops.”
“She might just be a stickler for procedure Hunter. She’s from another force, she doesn’t know you from Adam.”
“No there was something in the way she answered me. She was bullshitting.”
“Well you can’t do anything about it can you? You’re going to have to wait until your dad tells you himself.”
He closed his eyes again.
I’m going to get to the bottom of this if it is the last thing I do.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
DAY TWENTY TWO: 14th September.
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By seven-thirty am the incident room at Barnwell police station had become badly overcrowded with Murder Squad detectives, Task Force Search Team members, Scenes of Crime Officers and Forensic specialists all squeezing into any space they could find. There was standing room only.
A large scale street map and a blown-up, colour, aerial photo of the Hassans store, taken by the Force helicopter, together with a hand drawn layout of the property; both store and ground floor flat, dominated one of the white boards at the front of the room.
Hunter led the briefing; he was orchestrating the raid. He handed around photocopies of the operational plan setting out the purpose of that morning’s sortie and then quickly got into his preamble. He summarised the investigation to date and then outlined everyone’s tasks. Although the team had the Hassans as TIE’s; Trace, Interview, Eliminate, they had not been able to identify the attack site where Samia had been killed. That was the crux of the day’s task ahead and the purpose of the warrant and he deliberated over his final words; he wanted no stone left unturned.
Shortly after eight am as the Police and Forensic teams were heading out of the station’s yard, daylight had just broken through a heavy grey sky. The day ahead looked promising.
Hunter and Grace were leading the convoy and in less than quarter of an hour they were hitting the outskirts of Hoyland. Hunter eased off the accelerator, but only a fraction and he took the turning into the side road at the side of the convenience store quicker than normal, braking sharply to avoid a parked car close to the junction. He mumbled an apology to Grace as the car rocked to a halt. He felt wired. A highly charged tingling sensation surged through him. He was always like this on raids: a flash from his Drug Squad days momentarily took over his thoughts and just as quickly disappeared as he took in the sight of the Hassans convenience store.