27
The call came through just after six in the evening, as Brodie was preparing to leave. His mobile buzzed against the desktop, the screen showing Detective Superintendent Breck’s name.
‘Brodie.’
‘We’ve got the warrant.’ Breck’s voice was clipped, businesslike. ‘Fiscal’s office pushed it through as an emergency authorisation. We’re going in tonight – the warehouse in Perth. I want you there.’
Brodie was already on his feet, reaching for his jacket. ‘When?’
‘Staging area is the Perth station. I’ve got local uniforms meeting us there. The sooner we get there, the better. In case the Mitchells are there again. This goes by the book, Liam. If the Mitchells or anyone else is on-site, we take no chances.’
‘Understood. I’m bringing McKenzie and Reid.’
‘Fine. But move your arse, Liam. I’ll see you up there.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He ended the call. It had sounded like Breck was already in his car. The older man was probably getting a head start. Brodieknew his superior officer drove like a madman, as if he was having a blackout and the spirit of his dead granny had taken the wheel. Breck’s car came with mandatory sick bags.
Brodie dialled Art’s mobile.
‘Boss?’
‘Get Cameron and meet me at Perth station in thirty minutes. We’ve got the warrant for the warehouse.’
The relaxation vanished from Art’s voice instantly. ‘On our way.’
Brodie grabbed his jacket and the case files, scanning the incident room as he moved. Lucy was still at her desk, working through witness statements from the Claire Nisbet case, her concentration absolute. She looked up as he approached.
‘What’s happening?’
‘Warehouse raid. Perth. We’re going in tonight.’ He hesitated, then added, ‘You should come. You’re part of this team now.’
Lucy’s eyes widened slightly, but she nodded and stood, reaching for her own jacket. ‘Let me grab my gear.’
‘We leave right now. In case the bastards are planning to go there again.’
‘Let’s go.’
The drive to Perth took thirty minutes, Brodie pushing the Volvo harder than he normally would, the urgency of the warrant sitting heavy on his shoulders. Lucy sat beside him, quiet, reviewing the file on Barry, Thomas and the Mitchell funeral home on her tablet.
‘Sir,’ she said as they headed up the motorway. ‘If we do find evidence in the warehouse – bodies, preservation equipment, whatever – what’s the legal position with the Mitchells? Can we charge them?’
‘Depends what we find and whether we can prove they knewwhat it was being used for.’ Brodie overtook a lorry, pulling back into the left lane.
Perth station was bustling when they arrived, the car park filled with marked and unmarked vehicles. Brodie didn’t recognise anybody but he nodded to a few anyway. Art and Cameron were already there, talking with a group of Uniforms near the main entrance.
‘You all ready?’ Brodie asked, just as Breck came marching out of the station.
The Uniforms nodded that they were all ready to go.
They moved out of the station car park in a coordinated line, heading west towards the farm.
It was on the outskirts of Perth, a manky old place that had seen better days.
The warehouse sat at the end of a dirt track, isolated from its neighbours. A chain-link fence surrounded the property, and there were no lights visible in the building itself. Two vehicles were parked outside – a black Transit van with no markings on the side and a dark blue BMW that Art recognised as Barry Mitchell’s car.
‘Looks like someone’s home,’ Art murmured.
