Chapter One; Too close to the truth
Rose Callaghan clutched the mobile phone in her trembling hand, breathless she pressed it to her ear as the cold wind whistling around her causing her already dishevelled hair to whip around her face. The snow fell harder and thicker, already sticking to the ground at her feet. She took a deep breath trying to gain her composure as the call she'd made was answered.
"999 which service do you require?"
"This ...This is Detective ... Detective Inspector Rose Callaghan" she uttered "I need ... Oh, dear God I need assistance ... Ambulance I need an Ambulance ... Officer down"
"Can you repeat Ma'am" the panicked call handler requested.
"Officer down ..." her tears broke her voice "Immediate assistance... I think he's ...Oh dear God I think he's dead."
**********
~ Six Hours Earlier ~
Callaghan wrapped the interview, terminating the near forty-five-minute session at 10:14am she had noted.
Jack Hughes sat across the table from her, still protesting his innocence, still feigning indifference to every scrap of evidence they'd put to him.
The latest physical evidence being a dark green hooded sweatshirt which still sat on the desk between them in the protective cover of an evidence bag. The same dark green hoodie that had been discovered amongst Henrietta Harding's possession in her bedroom when Officers had searched her home for clues as to her potential whereabouts, clues to her movements. None of her family had recognised the garment as belonging to her. While there was no indication of how the garment had come to be in her room several factors suggested the top wasn't hers, it was not in keeping with any of Henrietta's fashion or style and by its size alone, as Callaghan had assumed, would have swamped her petite frame.
Jack Hughes has recognised the garment. Jack Hughes in another admission had professed to it bring his; vehemently claiming to have no knowledge however of how his item of clothing came into the possession let alone the bedroom of the missing daughter of the Member of Parliament. Jacks' admission only confirmed what they knew given hair and DNA samples they'd already retrieved from the sportswear, all positively identified as Jacks.
Henrietta's parents were as easy to be expected by this stage in proceedings growing impatient at the lack of progress being made, the lack of updates, their daughter having been missing for 5 days now. Mark Harding's snarling aggression as Callaghan had sat opposite him in the kitchen of the family's Town House had been apparent and equally intimidating. His persona suggested a dark anger which lay beneath the paper-thin public persona the MP was at pains to portray. "I don't care for you...I don't care for your agenda... I will go public ... I will find my daughter," he'd barked across an oak kitchen table at her and Parsons only twenty-four hours earlier. Undeniably she could obviously understand his standpoint, his frustration, his fear, with Jack Hughes in custody refusing to choke up assistance their hopes of finding her safely dwindled with each second let alone minute. Hughes had so far not yielded in their constant requests and near demands to let them know where she was, the latest made only minutes ago. They couldn't afford for Mark Harding to go public, given what she knew off the record about Jack Hughes then Callaghan was certain, if only in her own mind of his association.
It was therefore important that without wishing to show weakness that she had relied on the known personal friendship between Mark Harding and Superintendent Derek Haver. The Super hadn't agreed with her strategy but had agreed they were in too deep now to alter their course of action with immediate effect. He'd given her an ultimatum of 24hrs to gain damning evidence. Sixteen hours of which had already passed.
"You're not acting alone are you Jack?"
Callaghan knew that the statement come question was now off the record with the interview terminated. She knew this, Detective Sayeed Malik who was deputising for Steve Parsons in the interview knew this, the Lawyer Entwistle would know this his hand already on Jack's forearm, not the first time she'd witnessed their now familiar silent communication this morning alone. Even Jack Hughes would know this, but she was looking for a reaction as she stared into his eyes. Something Logan Hughes had suggested, a conclusion they'd never ruled out themselves but like many other things never been able to prove. Every line of thought given Jack's lack of cooperation came back to the suggestion that Jack Hughes wasn't in this alone, he had an accomplice or potentially he was even the accomplice.
"Must be someone you're scared of ... or someone you care about."
She was hoping to be smart.
Jack shook his head, but she saw his eyes glimpse to right briefly drawing on a vision, a memory, a person.
"I hope they're worth it."
She didn't pause she didn't even look back as she exited the interview room, allowing Malik to deal with the formalities.
The strike of her cream heels echoed down the hallway as she strode back to her desk. She needed a coffee; she might be in need of a miracle. This case refusing to unravel for her. She held in her possession a murder weapon, but she knew without compromising the investigation she couldn't simply produce the weapon from nowhere.
"Where's Parsons?" She near barked at the assembled team in the Investigating Office. Drawing blank expressions and shakes of heads.
Slipping her phone from the inside pocket of her tailored navy suit she switched it from silent, the screen illuminated showing four missed calls and two voicemails. Stabbing finger to her phone screen she pressed the phone to her ear. Listening intently to the most recent of the answerphone messages.
Phone still in hand she grabbed her black wool over coat and slipped it over her shoulders, through the windows she could see flakes of snow in the air as she headed through the investigation office.
"I'm heading to North Channel Docks," she announced aloud, nobody seemed to pay her attention.
*************
Parsons watched her as she stepped out of her newly issued black Mercedes C Class.
"Nice wheels," he offered.
"Why have you dragged me down here?" Callaghan stated time was desperately pressing she couldn't afford distractions. His envious look though spoke volumes. Parsons was jealous of the vehicle. Not surprising when she looked over to the beat-up looking Ford Mondeo Estate, he had driven here in.
"I think you'll be very interested in what I've discovered."
"What?" She stated drawing the coat around her and buttoning it too the neck against the bitter temperature. The early snow flurry had amounted to nothing, but the freezing wind whipped through the warehouses around them. Slipping her hands into her pockets she pulled on fitted black leather gloves.
"Just follow me" Parsons stated with a measured tone. He was teasing this out for whatever reason. Callaghan followed, wondering how he was braving the cold in just a thin grey suit over his usual white shirt and blue tie combination. Following him as he pulled open the door to the storage container he approached before disappearing inside of the large slightly rusting blue metal container. Illuminating a torch, he turned towards her as she entered, a smell she couldn't quite place immediately filling her nostrils. Callaghan turned her face away from the dazzling glare of the torch; immediately spotting the light switch to her right. Flicking it the room dimly illuminates with two bulbs hung from the ceiling of the container. She refrained from passing comment on the lack of detective work used to find something as simple as a light switch. Parsons was good at his job but with a propensity to miss the bloody obvious at times she considered.
