She picks up my old clothes from the bed. My bottom lip trembles. I know I won’t see them again.
Chapter 18
Swann studied the images of the five individuals spread out on his desk. The Divisional Intelligence Unit had narrowed down Phil Hobbs’s contacts list to a few potential leads. Each came with its own unique set of circumstances. Elea would be desperate to hunt them down. He gathered up the images and added them to his briefing pack. Everything was online, but he was old-school and printed everything out.Paperless office, my backside, he thought. He’d seen a lot of change during his time working for the police, and not all of it was welcome. Standing at the door, he glanced at his team as he prepared to delve into the underbelly of the criminal world.
Elea sat hunched over her desk, too engrossed in the investigation to notice him observing her. She had written up her statement covering the seizure of the Velcro-strap shoes and had organised a police sketch artist to visit Sophie’s home. She rarely came back empty-handed when she was on a mission, but the shoes would remain a mystery until Sophie was willing to say more. They’d searched intel for the keywords “Velcro shoes,” but nothing had come up. That wouldn’t slow his team down. The tension in the room was palpable, its weight settling on Swann’s shoulders as he clutched the intel pack.
“All right, everyone.” Swann’s deep voice cut through the low hum of chatter. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.” Mugs clinked on Ness’s tray as she handed out coffees and teas. Swann caught Elea’s frown as she watched Ness bustle around the room, making sure everyone had a drink. He knew what Elea was thinking: that Ness was a detective, not a teas maid. But such acts of kindness helped keep team morale going, and the team sergeant made sure they took turns. Long hours and cancelled rest days took their toll. A mug of coffee or tea at the right time went a long way.
Swann began his briefing, attaching the mugshots to the board. He gave a stack of printed pages to Mitch to share out. It pained him to delegate, but Mitch was the DI now. Swann had enough high-level strategic work to keep him occupied. However, Elea wasn’t the only person with demons. She had no idea how much Liisa’s case still haunted Swann. But he was looking for a body, while Elea was searching for the living. He took a deep breath as a burning sensation rose in his chest. Years of eating at odd hours had given him the gift of acid reflux. Or was it the stress of having Elea on his radar again?
She sat, fully attentive as he shared the intel that he had received. He nodded to Mitch, instructing him to take over. He couldn’t bear to see the hope etched on Elea’s face. If this led to her daughter’s kidnapper, it would not end well. Was it easier to live in hope than to know that the person you loved most in the world was dead? Yes, it brought closure, but looking for Liisa was what got Elea out of bed in the morning. The woman was relentless.
“Fergus McCarthy.” Mitch pointed at a mugshot of a bearded man with deep-set eyes. “He was banged up six months ago for a string of violent assaults. Once a major player in the drugs scene until a rival gang took over his patch.”
Swann was well aware of McCarthy, having been instrumental in sending him down.
Mitch’s hand hovered over a picture of a gaunt pock-faced male. “Malcolm ‘Monzo’ Tanner. He dropped out of sight over a year ago. Rumour has it he’s still in the drugs trade, but no one knows where he is or what he’s doing.”
“Our third lead, Danny Blackwood.” Mitch referred to the image of a bald man with a thick neck. “He kicked the bucket three months ago—suspected overdose. He organised teenage dealers and recruited his own kids before the social got involved.”
The social.Swann groaned inwardly.Not “social services,” but “the social.”Mitch had grown up on the streets and lacked professional finesse. He could see why Elea was attracted to him. She had a soft spot for forbidden fruit. He focused his thoughts on Mitch’s words, pushing his personal feelings aside.
“Sienna Thompson.” Mitch pointed to the only female among the leads. A petite redhead, the young woman had deceptively soft features. “She’s married to our fifth lead, Anthony ‘Ant’ Thompson. Both known for violence offences and are still active in the drugs scene, though they haven’t been nicked in a while.”
Swann folded his arms across his chest. “Handle these suspects with care. There are ongoing operations involving Tanner and McCarthy and we can’t compromise them.”
“It’s a shame your handlers didn’t have eyes on them when Chelsea Hobbs was taken,” Elea muttered.
Swann wouldn’t justify the comment with a response.
“Jimmy Kemp is still inside,” Ness chimed in. “We could arrange for an interview, speak to him about his connections, but he’ll probably tell us where to go.”
“Not if there’s something in it for him,” Elea murmured under her breath. Swann knew of her tactics and wasn’t having any part of it.
“Malcolm Tanner will be harder to find,” Kelly spoke. She was perched on the edge of her table, mug in hand. “We could do a deep dive with our informants. See if anyone’s heard anything.”
“Speak to the CHIS handlers for that area first,” Mitch advised. “We don’t want to step on anyone’s toes.” The covert human intelligence sources often provided valuable information.
“Sienna and Ant Thompson are our best bet,” Elea said.
“All right,” Swann continued decisively. “We’ll start with the Thompsons and gather more intel about the others in the meantime. Keep me informed of any developments.” He reminded his sergeant to oversee the taskings and to delegate if anyone was falling behind.
“Yes, boss,” Ray said, rubbing his unshaven face. He shouldn’t have needed the reminder, but his heart didn’t seem to be in the role.
Swann had seen it many times before. It was called the “golden handcuffs” by people in his team. Officers who hated their jobs, but couldn’t afford to lose the pension if they left. So they stayed, working half-heartedly through each day, counting the hours until retirement came. Mitch would bring it up in his next performance review.
“I’d like to pay the Thompsons a visit.” Elea’s Finnish accent subtly coloured her words. “Today. There’s no point in surveillance. Too much time has passed.”
“I doubt surveillance would be on the table, to begin with,” Swann intervened.
“It should be. Chelsea’s still missing,” Elea reminded him.
“Leave it with me. It’s all in hand.” Swann rubbed the knot forming between his brows.
“You think Liisa’s dead, don’t you?” Elea stood.
Swann prickled as her words filled the room. This wasn’t just about his missing girls. She resented his past handling of Liisa’s case. He leaned towards his estranged wife, speaking softly into her ear. “This isn’t the time or the place.”
