Cut the deck, p.11
Cut The Deck, page 11
part #1 of DCI Cooper Series
He hummed again. “Okay. She was a little bitchy. That’s such a terrible way to describe it but I can’t think of a better way.”
“Bitchy in what way?” asked Tennessee.
“Well, she’d make fun of some kids if she didn’t approve of their clothes or hair. You know what I mean?”
“She was a bully?” asked Cooper, thinking about how Tina had almost sounded scared of Rachel Pearson. Shelly was beginning to sound the same.
“Sometimes,” replied Pete, his lip curling in disgust at himself for talking about his former student that way.
“Please think carefully,” urged Cooper. “Did she bully anyone the last time you saw her?”
He shrugged. “It’s a big class. Thirty-two unruly teenagers, one teacher and a load of shuttlecocks flying about. Sorry. If she did, I didn’t notice.”
* * *
Back in the warm serenity of her Tynemouth terrace, Cooper frowned at the empty casserole dish. She’d have to return it to Atkinson at some point. Social etiquette would dictate that she should cook something for him in return, but there was more chance of pigs flying over the Tyne Bridge than her subjecting someone she liked to her feeble excuse for cooking. She’d take him to a restaurant. She’d wait for this awful case to be out of the way and for her hair to grow into something resembling a cute pixie cut, then she’d ask him to join her for dinner.
Upstairs, Tina was still not speaking to either parent and loud music had been blasting from her room for hours. She’d hung up on Kenny and refused to open her bedroom door to Cooper. An offer of take away pizza couldn’t even tempt her out.
She doesn’t even like music, thought Cooper. She never listened to the radio and rarely watched music videos on YouTube. The only reason for Tina’s sudden interest in Slipknot was to annoy Cooper by making the house too loud for her to watch television.
It had been a productive day so Cooper smiled as she sat down on the sofa. The joke was on Tina. Little did her daughter know, Erica Cooper had been quite the metalhead in her youth. That’s how she’d met Kenny. Cooper hadn’t been able to see a damn thing from the back row of the Metallica concert but after a third beer she’d had the bright idea to crowd surf to the front. Hundreds of hands guided her towards the band and when she finally dropped she landed straight into Kenny’s arms. He’d been broad and strong and his aftershave had sent her into a blushing mess.
Cooper kicked off her shoes and bobbed her head back and forth to the music while she thought back to her younger years. It took her three songs before she realised she had eight missed calls from Chief Superintendent Howard Nixon.
- CHAPTER 19 -
Superintendent Howard Nixon’s voice was twenty decibels higher than usual. “Cooper,” he barked, “where the bloody hell have you been? Two kids never made it home from school.”
Cooper got straight to her feet and plugged a finger in her free ear to dull the music coming from Tina’s room. “From Tynemouth Comp?”
“Yes. Jasmine Lee, fifteen and Reuben Jones, sixteen.”
“Fucking hell.” Cooper’s heart was already racing. “But we have Bennett in the cells.”
“Calm down, Cooper. I need you focused. We know fine well the evidence against Bennett is sketchy at best. The killer might still be out there.”
“Or Bennett has an accomplice?”
“That’s a possibility. Now chances are these kids are fine. Just two kids arsing about and giving their parents the runabout, after some attention, you know.”
“We can’t take that chance, sir, not if the killer’s still on the loose. Not if there’s a chance he’s targeting the school.”
“Exactly, but we’re not going to panic. I’ve approved the chopper and it should be airborne within ten minutes.”
Cooper began to pull on her boots. “I need numbers, sir. As many uniforms as you can spare.”
“I’ll do what I can, Cooper. There’s been a major disturbance in town. A pub brawl’s spilled out onto the streets and knives have been drawn. It’s a blood bath. West Yorkshire and Cumbria have offered support but it’ll take an hour at least for their units to arrive—”
“Dogs?”
“Already prepped. Handlers are at the homes getting items of clothing so the dogs know the scent. They’ll then follow any trail from the school.” Nixon paused for breath. “Cooper, you know how I feel about relying on neighbouring forces. It’s embarrassing. It makes us look weak and ill prepared.”
“There’s no shame in asking for help, sir.”
“I beg to differ. Commissioner Begum’s breathing down CC Davison’s neck and he, in turn, is breathing down my neck. Davison’s requested a meeting with me tomorrow. We need to find those kids tonight, Cooper, or someone’s head’ll be on the chopping block and it won’t be mine. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal.” Cooper checked her watch. “We should notify the media. We’ve missed the six o’clock news but I want those kids’ faces all over the local press’s social media and I want the news channels ready to run an appeal on the ten o’clock if we haven’t found them by then. I want everyone north of Durham and south of the border out looking.”
Nixon coughed. “I’ll get the guys in the press office onto it but they’ll want a press conference. You know the tabloids will want a face to go with the story and you’re the SIO.”
“There’s no time for that.” Cooper grabbed her keys. “If they want me, they can come find me. I’m joining the search.”
“Cooper—”
It is you who will have to make a choice. Was this what Charity Mae had warned her about? Cooper was not interested in playing the media darling to appease her boss, even if it would be a sign of strength for the department. She could drum up more publicity by speaking to the press but she preferred to be more hands on. Surely her time was better spent doing what she does best.
“Sir, I live in Tynemouth, I grew up in Tynemouth. These are my streets. These people are my people and if there are two kids missing I’m going be out there helping to find them. Potts can handle the press. Now, where’s my team?”
There was a moment of silence from Nixon. Cooper assumed he was biting his tongue after his DCI cut him off. She heard a sigh, and then, “Daniel’s with Martin. They’ve just left the Lee household in Cullercoats and are on their way to the Jones’s on King Edward’s Road. Keaton and Sutherland are briefing a search party on Front Street.”
“I’ll meet them there,” Cooper said before hanging up. She spun on her heels. Her instinct as a member of the force was to get out there as soon as possible, her instinct as a mother was to protect her child. She stormed upstairs and walked into Tina’s room without knocking and pulled the stereo’s plug from the wall.
“Hey!”
“Hey nothing,” snapped Cooper.
Tina was sat crossed legged on her bed with textbooks fanned out around her. Her hair was a mess and she’d clearly been crying, but Cooper would have to put the parenting on hold.
“Listen. Two kids from your school have gone missing. It’ll be on the news soon enough. I need to join the search—”
Tina sat up and straightened her posture. Her brows knitted together and her eyes scanned back and forth over Cooper’s face. “Can I help?”
“No. Absolutely not. I need you to make a choice and make it quick. I can drop you at your dad’s or you can lock the doors from the inside and promise to not let anyone in other than me.”
Tina wiped her eyes and left a trail of mascara across her face. “I’ll stay here… If you’re sure I can’t help.”
Cooper wrapped her daughter up in a bear hug and spoke into her birds-nest-hair. “I’m sure. I love you so much, Tina.”
She released her and quickly checked the latches on all the upstairs windows and motioned for Tina to follow her downstairs where she double-locked the backdoor and checked the kitchen window.
“Here,” said Cooper, handing Tina a paring knife, “take this. Lock the door behind me and secure the chain and bolts. I want you to text me every fifteen minutes, no exceptions. Do you understand me?”
Tina nodded. Her face had tightened and she suddenly looked five years older. “Yes, I do. But, Mum, the knife…”
“Just in case,” Cooper said. She gave Tina a meaningful look. “If you need to use it, don’t hold back. Okay?”
Tina swallowed and let the thought mull around her mind for a moment. “Okay,” she replied in less than a whisper.
“Every fifteen minutes?”
“Every fifteen minutes.”
Cooper closed the front door behind her and waited until she heard all the locks click into place before running in the direction of Front Street. As she ran, she pulled her phone out and called Kenny. The call went straight to voicemail.
“Kenny. It’s Erica. I might be wrong about that suspect. Two kids from the comp have gone missing and I’m joining the search party. Tina’s at home, the house is secure and she has strict instructions to only answer the door to me. Can you call her every half hour? Text me when you get this. Oh, and don’t go round there unless she asks you to, you might get stabbed.”
Cooper found Sutherland and Keaton outside Marshall’s fish and chip shop. A row of men and women in reflective gear were fanning out across the street, torch lights sweeping back and forth. Front Street was the centre of Tynemouth village. At its western end a village green sported a statue of Queen Victoria and at its eastern end, you’d find the North Sea. In between, the street played host to wine shops, pubs, bars, seafood restaurants and quaint B&Bs.
“What’s the score?” Cooper asked, clutching her chest. She hadn’t expected to need to run twice in one day. Sutherland watched the search party split in two, half heading north onto Hotspur Street and half heading south through an alleyway between two bars. He guided Cooper inside the fish and chip shop where the warmth from the heaters and the friers helped restore feeling to her extremities and they took a seat at one of the tables near the door.
He opened his notes. “Jang-Mi Lee - known as Jasmine -and Reuben Jones stayed late at school for something called culture club.”
“Yes,” said Cooper with a nod. “Artsy stuff?”
“Aye,” confirmed Sutherland. He slid two photographs across the formica tabletop. “The club finished at four thirty and the teachers who run the club walked the students to the front gates. From there they were in sight of the officers stationed at the front of the school. Some of them were met by parents, others walked off. The officers at the school this afternoon were Andrews and Kowalski, they haven’t reported anything unusual.”
Cooper looked down at the photographs. Jasmine Lee was of far-eastern descent, with poker-straight black hair, a heart-shaped face and ears - that unfortunately - could rival Prince Charles’s. Reuben Jones was a slim boy with pale skin, grey eyes and a trendy sculpted hairstyle that Oliver Martin would approve of.
“Jasmine and Reuben left on foot?” Cooper asked.
“Yes, with a Freya White,” said Sutherland. “Jasmine suggested fish and chips so the three of them cleared it with their parents and came here. I’ve already spoken to the staff and they confirm the three arrived here at around four forty. Freya tells us that Jasmin and Reuben were courting and she felt like a third wheel.”
Keaton rolled her eyes. “Courting? All right, grandad.”
“Less of your cheek,” he retorted. “Courting, dating, gannin’ oot, an item, whatever you call it. They were a couple. Anyhoo, this Freya lass was feeling awkward ‘cause Jasmine and Reuben spent more time snogging than talking to her so she left.”
Keaton had tipped a small pile of salt onto the table and was using her fingers to swirl it around. “No one says snogging anymore either.”
Sutherland scowled but remained on task. “Freya got home at ten past five. They’d all agreed to be home by six and when Jasmine didn’t show by six twenty her mother called her but her phone was turned off or out of battery. Same for Reuben’s parents. His phone’s off as well. They got hold of Freya at six thirty and by seven they’d called the police.”
Cooper checked her watch; it was gone eight. “What time did Jasmine and Reuben leave here?” she asked.
Keaton broke free from her daydream. “Best estimate they could give us was half five.”
“And no one’s seen them since?”
Keaton shook her head. “Not that we’ve been able to ascertain. We have people checking with everyone who went to the culture club - a lot of them are out looking - and we’ve shown their pictures to all the businesses on Front Street.”
At that moment a canine unit entered Marshall’s. An older woman with platinum hair shouted from behind the counter, “Sorry love, no dogs allowed apart from guide… Oh.”
She blushed realising the dogs were here on business and not pleasure.
One dog sniffed the air and the other had his nose glued to the ground. They headed straight to the third table on the right and let out yelp-like barks. It was amazing; over the smell of vinegar and batter the dogs could still pick out Jasmine and Reuben’s scents. A handler fed them both a treat and they turned back out the shop and headed west up Front Street.
“I take it, that’s where the kids were sat?” asked Cooper.
Sutherland nodded. “Aye. Let’s hope they find those kids safe and sound.”
“If anyone can, the dogs can.” Cooper stood. “But that being said, let’s get out of here and help. Where are the volunteers?”
Keaton opened her phone. “They’re in groups of about ten to fifteen and spread out over Tynemouth as well as Shields and Cullercoats,” she said, referencing the town to the south and the village to the north. “They’re using hashtag find Jasmine and Reuben on Twitter to organise themselves. Let me see, ah yes, here we are. A group just finished combing Longsands beach and are moving onto King Edward’s Bay. Another group are zigzagging up and down the back lanes around Preston Grange. They have a WhatsApp group too, they’ve added me, so I’ll know straight away if anything comes up.”
Cooper was impressed. “What about the teachers?”
“The three who taught the club are with a bunch of other staff members and were scouring the Fish Quay last I heard.”
“Right, let’s start with them. Then I want to meet Freya.”
* * *
The Fish Quay on the north shore of the river Tyne was the industrial hub of North Shields; a proud fishing town that was famous for its crab shacks and smokehouses. Cooper, Sutherland and Keaton jogged down Ropery Stairs - 120 steep steps that connected the old lower and upper towns - and found the search party spread out over the quay.
Cooper discreetly checked her phone and was relieved to find three messages from Tina. The most recent read, I’m fine, or I would be if Dad stopped calling.
Brian Hutchins was on his knees shining a torch under parked cars. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here,” he said when he spotted Cooper and company. His glasses were perched on his head and he was wrapped up as if ready to trek to the North Pole. He shook Cooper’s hand and introduced himself to Sutherland and Keaton. “I can’t believe it. I just can’t.” His voice trembled and he drew the attention of two other teachers who came over to flank him on either side.
“I’m Phillip Dunn, this is Catherine Grainger,” said a short man in a flat cap. Catherine Grainger had wild, red curls and was as small and thin as Cooper.
“I feel awful,” said the slight redhead. “Just awful. We should never have let them walk home. It’s all our fault.”
“Don’t say that,” said Brian, a hand coming to rest on his colleague’s shoulder.
Phillip agreed. “We walked them to the gates, Catherine. The police were there. We can’t very well drive them home ourselves, you know the rules.”
“Yes…” she sniffed and began to wring her hands together, “but the rules shouldn’t apply now, these are special circumstances.”
“Child protection rules are in place for a reason,” started Brian, but Catherine cut him off.
“Well, they haven’t done a very good job tonight, have they? The rules haven’t kept them safe tonight. Oh lord, what if something’s happened? What if they’ve been killed?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Cooper, though she felt the same way. Her gut was churning round and round and filling her with the overwhelming feeling that they were already too late. “Please take a moment and then talk me through this afternoon. Tell me about Jasmine, Reuben and Freya.”
Cooper waited a few seconds whilst the troubled teachers gathered their thoughts. Around her, other staff members were checking behind bins, shining their torches over the side of the dock to look into the fishing boats, and were popping in and out of the establishments that lined the quay. As someone entered an Italian restaurant the smell of garlic temporarily overpowered the scent of the river and a surge of laughter erupted from a pub named the Salty Sea Dog. All around them people were going about their business and enjoying their evening, unaware that something diabolical could be happening at this very moment.
“Let’s walk and talk,” suggested Keaton, an idea which seemed to please Brian, Phillip and Catherine. It helped them feel useful.
Brian turned his torch back on and scanned the ground. “We were sculpting in class this afternoon.”
“I remember you telling me,” said Cooper, taking a second to count how many people were in the search party, there must have been at least twenty-five of them.
“They did well, the whole group I mean, they seemed to enjoy it,” he continued.
“Well, Freya enjoyed it,” said Phillip Dunn. “She was very keen on culture club. Jasmine was, I mean is, her best friend. They’re inseparable. Reuben isn’t exactly a natural at music or art. I think he feels he’s a bit on the cool side to be there. He comes to the club because Jasmine does, and Jasmine comes because Freya does. You get the idea.”
Sutherland and Cooper gave each other a look. As parents of secondary school pupils, they most certainly did understand.
