The Loriton estate wasn’t somewhere many officers would go to single-crewed. And it wasn’t somewhere Jack Culverhouse would have normally fancied going at all, no matter how many people he was with. It was the sort of area where police weren’t welcome. Many of the residents on the estate had had run-ins with the law in the past. Others felt the system in general had let them down, giving them a deep distrust of authority.
There were a few people out and about — a middle-aged woman walking a dog, two men in jeans and t-shirts, a group of children on bikes. Nothing to give him too much cause for concern, but even so he didn’t want to be hanging around here for too long.
He slowed down as he reached the rough location he presumed Ethan Turner’s house to be. He looked over and confirmed the house number, before driving a little further up the road and pulling over.
He sat in his car for a few moments, realising he hadn’t planned any of this. What was he doing? What did he expect to achieve? It went without saying that his ultimate goal was for Emily to be safe and kept far away from potential criminality. His interest in that was twofold: he wanted to protect his daughter and his career. It wouldn’t cause an automatic issue in his job if Emily had links to criminals. But it would be more fuel for the fire as far as people like Martin Cummings and Malcolm Pope were concerned.
But what could he do about it? If the force of the law couldn’t stop someone carrying out criminal activities, what hope did he have on his own? What was he going to do? Knock on his door and ask him to be a good boy? He couldn’t ask Emily to stop seeing Ethan. There’s no way she’d understand. The smart option would be to give Ethan enough rope to hang himself with and be there for Emily when it all fell apart.
A large part of him, he had to admit, wanted to walk up to Ethan Turner’s house, knock on his door, wait for him to answer and punch him in the face. It’d do nothing beneficial, but it’d make him feel a whole lot better. And it’d probably result in him losing both his daughter and his job — the two things he had come here to protect.
As he mulled it all over in his mind, his attention was drawn to movement in his wing mirror. He saw two people coming out of what he believed to be Ethan Turner’s house. One was a lad of around seventeen or so. He guessed the other was around three or four years older, knowing how difficult it was to age teenagers. Take Emily, for example. He knew exactly how old she was, yet she looked and acted a good few years older. It was likely that either one of these lads could be Ethan Turner.
He watched as they crossed the road and got into a red Vauxhall Astra. A few seconds later, the car started to move and drove past Jack, reached the end of the road and turned left. As it did so, Jack started his car and sped to the end of the road, turning left and trying to get the red Astra back in his sights as soon as possible.
There was another car between them. That was good. It meant he was less likely to be seen, but could still keep the car in his sight. They came to a roundabout, and the Astra took the second exit. The car between them carried on round the roundabout. Jack followed the Astra, keeping a respectable distance and trying to observe the car without looking too obvious.
He knew this road linked the Loriton and Sholebroke estates. Neither of them were particularly desirable places to live. It wasn’t an area he was familiar with. Knowing an area like the back of your hand had its advantages in policing. Right now, Jack was at a serious disadvantage in that regard.
A couple of minutes later, the Astra indicated and pulled over outside a public park. Jack continued driving and took the next right. He parked up outside a row of shops, got out of his car and locked it. He jogged back to the junction and headed towards the park, just in time to see the two lads enter the kids’ play area. Two other men — both a bit older — were stood in there, leaning against a climbing frame. Jack watched as the two lads from the Loriton estate approached them. They seemed to all know each other, judging by the bizarre ‘street’ handshakes they were doing.
He was nowhere near close enough to hear what the lads were saying. He didn’t want to risk getting any closer and spooking them. Even so, he’d been around long enough to know damn well what was going on. One of the older lads glanced around, seeming to be casing the area for witnesses. He dipped a hand into his pocket and handed something over to one of the Loriton boys. Jack couldn’t see what it was, but he thought he saw one of the Loriton boys hand something else back the other way. To Jack, it looked like a classic drugs deal. He watched as they did the handshakes again, before the Loriton boys started to make their way back towards the car.
As they passed through the entrance gate to the park, Jack walked up to meet them.
‘Ethan Turner?’ he called out, not sure which one was him. That uncertainty was soon resolved, though, as one of the boys looked up at him immediately. Culverhouse couldn’t hide his anger and resentment any longer. ‘I want to have a word with you,’ he said, walking closer towards him.
‘Shit! Run!’ the other lad yelled, before both turned to sprint in the direction of the car. Just as Jack started to go after them, the boy he’d identified as Ethan tripped. He skidded along the pavement on his side, groaning in pain. Jack was on him in moments. He looked up just in time to see the other lad have to make a decision over whether to help him or continue his escape. Fortunately for Jack, he chose the latter, and sped off in his car, back towards the Loriton estate. The two older lads in the park had also started to run away from him, up towards the top end of the park. Jack was grateful for the element of surprise. Even if they’d realised he was a police officer, there could be dozens of them behind him for all they knew.
‘Nice friends you’ve got there, Ethan. Loyal,’ Jack said as he pushed his knee further into Ethan Turner’s back and dialled the number of the station. ‘Maybe you might like to meet mine instead.'