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Shona picked up the VHS radio handset, tuned it to Dumfries Police Area Control Room channel and identified herself. But before she could get an update there was a gasp from onlookers as the man slipped further towards the dark water. It was running at upwards of 6 knots with the turning tide.
Tommy gunned the engine and prepared to move in. Shona scrambled into position in the bow, ready with flotation devices and a grab pole. Suddenly the middle-aged man in the scuffed jacket shook off the police officer’s restraining arm and clambered over the parapet. A moment later he reached down to the man, who after only a second’s hesitation grabbed his wrist. The constable on the bridge leaned forward and took hold of the jumper’s jacket collar. Together they hauled him up. Shona had a last glimpse of an anguished face, dark skinned and unshaven, caught in the beam of their search lamp, before he disappeared to safety over the red sandstone parapet.
‘Another one for the mental health team,’ commented Tommy, when they were stood down by the coastguard and eventually turned for home. ‘It never ends, does it?
’
Shona checked her watch. It would be after midnight when they got back. She had to be up at three. ‘Aye, Tommy,’ she said. ‘Sometimes it feels that way.’
Chapter 9
At five the next morning, Shona and DC Kate Irving parked up in the Newington area of Annan, a market town fifteen miles from Dumfries and eight miles from the English border. The two specials waited by their van as the detectives double-checked the details on the warrant. One of the uniformed officers held a scarlet-painted door ram, in case the occupants were reluctant to open up.
Shona’s eyes felt gritty and her arm muscles ached from last night’s bumpy trip on the Solway Firth. The streets of 1960s grey, pebble-dashed terraces were quiet, but it wouldn’t be long before the police presence was noted. ‘I’d like a chance with the red key,’ Kate said, giving the door ram its nickname. ‘I’ve not used it since training.’
‘Okay,’ Shona agreed. She liked her officers to maintain their skills. Kate gathered her fine, fair hair, securing it with a hair band, slipped on the gloves and, weighing the device in her hands, adjusted her grip. ‘Everyone ready?’ Shona nodded to the uniformed officers. ‘Let’s go.’ They rounded the corner and approached the house. The curtains were drawn but a light showed in an upstairs room.
Kate gave the battering ram an experimental swing, then paused to rip open the Velcro tabs on her stab vest, freeing up the movement of her willowy frame and toned shoulders.
Shona put out a hand to stop her. ‘I had a colleague, DC Anya Carey, who did that. Know where she is now?’
Kate shook her head uncertainly. ‘No, ma’am.’
‘City of London Cemetery. There was a guy behind the door with a knife.’ Shona remembered the metallic smell of arterial blood, the way it clung to the rims of her nails and grooves in the palms of her hands even when she scrubbed it.
‘These vests aren’t really designed for women,’ grumbled Kate, readjusting the straps compressing her breasts beneath the thick Kevlar layer.
‘It was a lot worse before Nike invented a decent sports bra,’ replied Shona dryly. When she was satisfied Kate was ready, she tapped the special constable on the shoulder. ‘Right, off you go.’
‘Police. Open up.’ He pounded on the door. ‘Last chance. Open up, or your door’s going in.’ He put his ear against the white UPVC, listening for movement, then shook his head.
The door gave way on Kate’s third swing. The specials were first through, shouting for occupants to come out with their hands in plain sight. From somewhere upstairs came the wail of a small child and a woman’s raised voice. There was movement in the kitchen. The officers grabbed a skinny man in jeans and bare feet as he struggled with the locks on the back door. Kate identified him as the suspect, Billy ‘Hammy’ Hamilton, and cautioned him.
Shona took the stairs two at a time, pausing on the dirty pink carpet of the upstairs landing to draw her baton. ‘Police. Show your hands,’ she commanded, pushing open the three doors that confronted her. The two bedrooms were empty. In the bathroom she found a thin woman sitting on the edge of the cracked bath cradling her daughter. Both faces were streaked with tears.
‘He told me he wasnae doing that stuff any more,’ she sobbed, pulling a balled tissue from the pocket of a stained blue bathrobe.
Shona stowed the baton in her belt and called Kate. They identified themselves, then took the women’s name and details and helped the pair downstairs. Shona carried the sticky toddler, who eyed her with frank curiosity. The little girl touched Shona’s pearl stud earring, then brought her hand up to her own ear. A tiny gold loop sat in the reddened flesh and Shona guessed she’d recently had them pierced. ‘Pretty,’ she said, and the child smiled.
As they entered the over-furnished living room, the woman let out a tirade of abuse, flying at the cringing, handcuffed Hammy. Kate hauled her off and she collapsed onto the sofa crying. The child looked uncertainly from her mother to Shona. ‘Is there a neighbour we can call, Jax?’ Shona said. ‘We’ll need to search the house and it might be better if you and Keana were somewhere quieter.’
‘That’s kind.’ Jax sniffed, teasing a strand of mousy hair round her finger. ‘But it’s too early to get my neighbours out of bed. I’ll stay. Just get that bastard out of my sight.’ She took her daughter from Shona and glared at Hammy, who stood, head down, by the living room door.
Shona told the uniformed officers to take their suspect back to Loreburn Street for processing. Jax and her daughter sat together eyeing the police officers as they began to pull out drawers and cupboards. Kate searched a plastic toybox, placing it next to the little girl when she’d finished, but the child made no move to pick up her dolls.
They found a small bag of heroin taped beneath the kitchen counter and a thin roll of twenty-pound notes held by an elastic band in a cereal packet. ‘What’s this, Jax?’ Shona said, walking back into the knocked-through living and dining room, holding the packages up in her gloved hand.
The woman shrugged and lit a cigarette. ‘Don’t know.’ She nodded at the money. ‘Hammy never gave me that for housekeeping, that’s for sure. Bastard.’
Shona stood for a moment in the dining room, then turned to Kate. ‘Does this room seem… odd to you? The dimensions? It’s quite narrow compared to the front room, and dark. My kitchen wall’s that colour. Taupe, isn’t it?’ She turned ninety degrees and pointed to the opposite wall. ‘That wall’s more like, limestone, wouldn’t you say.’
‘Housing association did it, before we moved in,’ said Jax, getting up from the sofa.
‘Yeah, not a great paint job,’ said Kate, catching Shona’s line of thought. ‘I’ll just pop outside for a minute.’
‘Where’s she off to?’ asked Jax as Kate stepped out of the back door.
‘Sit down please,’ said Shona calmly. ‘DC Irving just needs to check something.’
