20

Bev stared at the eyes in the flesh, as it were, while listening to Pembers describe the screen version. She and Mac had been lucky the dog hadn’t high-tailed off with what it probably saw as a meatball. Imagine if the media had got wind of that. She could see the headline now: Cops take their eye off the ball. Cops seek dog with one eye. Cops’ balls-up. Perish the bloody thought. Fortunately the mutt hadn’t managed to make a meal of it, but talk about a dog with a bone. They’d had to chuck chunks of wood at the bloody thing to drive it away. Now Bev was standing guard over the evidence, waiting for one of the forensics team to get over from the squat. Mac had moseyed off to try and find a bite to eat. She’d put in an order for ginger biscuits.

‘I thought it might come as a bit more of a shock, sarge.’ Pembers said.

‘Yeah, well it’s like this …’ Relating her end of the story, Bev paced round the trolley, keeping a close … watch on the surroundings. After a mental cringe, she swore to herself the first cop to crack an eye gag would get it in the … goolies. Thinking of which. ‘Has Powell put in an appearance yet?’ Her calls were still going through to his voice mail.

‘I think he’s in with the guv. Want me to check?’

‘Nah. No worries.’ She’d prefer Pembers not to address Truss as ‘guv’, though. There was only one governor to her way of thinking, and Byford’s size twelves were too big for anyone to fill. ‘Can I have a word with Raynes?’

‘She wanted to stretch her legs, have a change of scenery. I left her having a cuppa with Darren up in the canteen.’

Christ. Raynes would devour Dazza before breakfast. ‘Okay. Make sure she –’ Bev widened her eyes. Truss. Shit. She checked her watch. If Mac didn’t get a move on, she’d be cutting it fine to make it back for the boss’s meet.

‘Make sure she what, sarge?’

‘Doesn’t disappear.’

‘Fat chance. If you ask me she’s shit-scared.’

‘If you ask me,’ Bev cut a glance at the eyes, ‘she needs to be.’