The Death Messenger (Matthew Ryan Book 2)(56)

‘I’d be a damned sight finer sat in O’Neil’s warm car.’

‘Want my jacket? I’m toasty.’

‘You can’t be.’

He made a funny face. ‘I have my thermals on.’

‘You’re such a wuss.’

‘No, just practical.’

‘Give them your coat then.’ Grace pointed through the window. ‘They’ll catch their death out there in this rain. Can you believe the risks they take in order to make ends meet?’ She was angry and didn’t wait for an answer. ‘Few make enough to get by, let alone have a decent life. Every one of them will have been attacked at some point or another. Fuck knows how many unreported rapes there are among them.’ She shook her head, her focus on the road. ‘Look at the girl on the left. She’s barely a teenager.’

Ryan followed her gaze to a skinny waif-like figure shivering on the pavement. Years ago, she’d have been working in a vibrant fishing industry, engaged in the manufacture of traditional crafts or engineering locally, much of it long gone. Despite regeneration of the area, leisure and tourism had failed to fill the gap. With youth unemployment up and wages down, kids were struggling to survive.

At ten past midnight, Grace checked her watch, mumbling under her breath, shifted her weight from one foot to the other. ‘I’m busting for a pee,’ she said.

‘Find a dark corner. I won’t peek, I promise. And try not to break your neck.’

‘Sorry, Ryan, needs must.’

Her pants were hardly down when Newman’s voice cut in: ‘Vehicle heading west.’

Grace swore. ‘Tell the bastard I can’t stop mid-stream—’

Newman’s voice hit the airwaves. ‘Repeat, Unit One. I didn’t get that.’

Ryan grinned. ‘That’s received, Unit Two. Stand by.’

A vehicle pulled up as Grace joined Ryan at the window, adjusting her strides where she’d pulled them up quickly.

‘Better?’ he asked.

‘Much.’

The two detectives held their collective breath as the guy inside the car wound his window down and spoke to Gloria through it, her hesitancy raising their antennae. Anticipating that Stevie might show up in a different vehicle, Ryan had primed the girl to light up and throw her cigarette towards her punter should the right one arrive. She was already smoking, the fag presently in her hand. When she didn’t approach the car, the driver got out, walked round the vehicle and moved towards her in a threatening manner.

They had words.

When the conversation didn’t go his way, the man grabbed Gloria by the arm, pulling her towards his car by her hair. She timed it perfectly, sparks flying off the end of her cigarette as it glanced off his vehicle.

‘That’s a Go, Go, Go!’ Ryan said into his radio.

Nearest the door, Grace was out of the building first, sprinting like a gazelle across the road, as fit as someone half her age. Gloria glanced left as Newman ran towards her from the opposite direction. Spotting him, her punter made a run for it, hitting Grace so hard she fell and hit the wet tarmac, where she lay motionless in a puddle as Gloria’s soggy cigarette floated by.

As Newman went to her aid, the running man glanced over his shoulder to see if he was being followed. It was a mistake. Ryan took him out, a rugby tackle that sent them both crashing to the ground. Ryan managed to grab hold of him, dragging him to his feet, cuffing him before he could make good his escape.

‘Detective Sergeant Matthew Ryan, Northumbria Police. What’s your name?’

‘Why? I’ve done nowt wrong.’

‘Name!’

‘Steven Francis Watson.’

Ryan cautioned the suspect. ‘Stand still! You’re going nowhere; I’m arresting you on suspicion of murder and assault. Consider yourself nicked.’

The impact of that statement made Watson stagger slightly. His eyes fled to the lock-up as if he understood why they were there. He was shitting himself as he raised his hands.

‘No, look, I had nothing to do with what went on in there, I swear.’

O’Neil screamed to a halt in her vehicle. She got out, leaving the door wide open, her focus on Grace, who was being helped to her feet by Newman. ‘Grace, are you OK? Do you need a medic?’

‘No!’ Grace rubbed her head, still dazed.

O’Neil nodded to Ryan. ‘Get him in the car, I’ll meet you at base.’

‘No, wait!’ the prisoner protested. ‘I’ll tell you everything.’

‘You’ll have ample opportunity to do that at the station,’ Ryan said.

The man struggled to reach O’Neil as she turned away from him, elbowing Ryan in the process. ‘Get the fuck off me!’

‘Don’t make this difficult,’ Ryan gave a tug on the cuffs, incapacitating his prisoner.

‘Ow!’ he yelled. ‘I’m sorry, I was scared.’ His eyes shot to Grace. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push you over.’

‘Tell it to the judge, Mr Watson.’ Grace was shivering violently and soaking wet. ‘Get in the car! We’re going for a drive.’

‘I’ll drive,’ Newman said.

Grace gave him hard eyes, warning him to back off.

‘Let Frank drive. You’ve had a bang on the head.’ O’Neil threw the keys at Newman.