Jo rubbed her eyes and popped a couple of paracetamol from the stash in her desk drawer. She knew what was coming her way as Op Eradicate Gold Commander. Contrary to the adage, shit travels uphill. Ever since she’d learnt of Lizzie Reed’s murder she knew every plan and decision would be subject to the most forensic of investigations, mainly by those whose understanding of operational planning was what they’d picked up from TV.
Having been at the centre of more crises in the last two years than many experienced in a whole career, Jo should have spent the day getting her notes in order before the vulture descended. Instead, she spent it with Lizzie’s parents. How you explained why a clever, funny, deeply compassionate young woman could go to work and never come back was beyond Jo. She hated that she could not give them the answers they demanded and deserved.
She glanced at her watch and couldn’t believe it was 4 p.m. already. Just an hour until the Gold Group – the high-level, arse-saving meeting which some chief officers used to bury or spread blame in the aftermath 38of critical incidents. In fairness, Assistant Chief Constable Leon Mills was a breath of fresh air and, despite him calling the meeting, Jo felt she could trust him. He’d phoned her shortly after the murder to check how she was and whether she had all she needed to manage the immediate fallout. It was during that call that he’d suggested they meet an hour before the main meeting so she could brief him privately.
She pulled into Police Headquarters at Lewes, then slammed her hand on the steering wheel. She’d only just remembered she’d promised to be home by 5 p.m. so she and Darren could continue their discussion from last night. She was still livid that he’d not told the snidey editor where to shove his job but hoped that they’d both have cooler heads this time round. She tapped his number on her phone and waited for the hands-free to click in.
‘Hi,’ said Darren. Frosty, but two can play at that game.
‘Hi. Look, you’ve probably seen what’s happening. I’ve no idea when I’ll be home so are you OK feeding the boys? Probably putting them to bed too.’
‘Yep. I worked that one out.’
‘Oh and Liam has got PE tomorrow, so can you make sure his kit’s clean?’
‘Already done.’
Jo left a silence, hoping Darren would fill it. As she spotted a parking place she gave in.
‘Look, I can’t help this. A young woman lost her life today and the buck stops with me. Give me a break.’
‘I’m not heartless but I’d love you to understand it from my point of view.’
Fuck’s sake, she mouthed. The gears crunched as she lined up to back into the space.
‘We’ll talk but not now. I’ve got to see Leon before the Gold Group. I’ll be home as soon as I can.’
‘Fine. See you later.’ The phone went dead. 39
‘Love you, too,’ said Jo to the silent handset. She hated that things were so glacial between them. Life, or rather the job she adored, kept chucking boulders in the way of her heartfelt intentions to get back to how things were before work became such a shit storm. God, she missed their date nights, days out with the boys, even running. Was she sleepwalking towards the same fate of most police relationships?
Five minutes later she was knocking on the ACC’s door. His velvet public-school voice summoned her in immediately and, as ever, he was out from his desk and shaking her hand when she’d barely cleared the threshold.
‘Jo, what a dreadful day for you and your team. I hope everyone is bearing up.’
‘Thank you, sir. We’re fine compared to Lizzie’s family and friends.’
‘Of course, of course. Anyway, thank you for popping in early. I just thought it would be helpful to understand and clear a few things up before the main show at five. That sound OK?’
Jo would have loved to say no, just to see what Leon would say. He was such a charmer, and so old-school for his age, that she wondered how he’d ever survived the violence and abuse that came with everyone’s early years in the police.
‘Sure.’
‘Good, good. Listen, I’ve taken the liberty of inviting Nicola Merrion, the CEO of Lifechoices, to join us. After all, Lizzie was one of theirs. She’ll be here in a moment. That OK?’
‘Of course, sir, but I thought you’d like me to update you on the operational matters.’
‘Nicola can hear that. No secrets in partnerships now, are there? Oh, where are my manners? Can I get you some refreshments?’
Jo waved her Chilly’s water bottle at him. ‘I’m fine, thanks.’ Why did this feel like the world’s most civilised ambush?
There was a tap on the door and the ACC’s PA poked her head in. ‘Ms Merrion’s here. Shall I show her in?’ 40
‘By all means,’ he said, then gave Jo a look which asked whether that was OK. Bit late.
A tall, athletic woman, dressed in a green New Balance hoodie and grey jogging leggings, walked in as if she owned the office. Jo had met her a few times and, at best, tolerated her. The ferocity that speared from her laser-blue eyes unsettled Jo. No prizes for guessing whose blood she was after.
‘Thanks for inviting me, Leon,’ she said, shaking the ACC’s hand, then just nodded at Jo.
‘Do take a seat. I was just saying to Jo—you do know each other, don’t you? Of course you do. Anyway, I said it would be helpful if we understood things before everyone else arrives.’
‘I quite agree,’ said Nicola. ‘To kick off, how did a member of my staff get stabbed to death in front of two police officers on a pre-planned operation? Any idea?’ She glared at Jo, who hoped Leon would chip in, but he just stared at her too.
‘Can I first say how deeply sorry I am, we all are, for Lizzie’s loss.’
Leon spluttered in agreement.
‘She was with two of the most experienced officers on the street policing team and was wearing a stab-proof vest with “Drugs Worker” on the front and back. It’s early days but from what I understand Sergeant Scott and PC Bannerjee were threatened by some men who turned up in a van and, while they were dealing with that, another man stabbed Lizzie in the neck. My officers did all they could to save her but I’m afraid … well, you know the rest.’
‘I’m fully aware of that,’ said Nicola. ‘What I want to know is, where was the back-up? We have a signed service-level agreement that on arrest days our workers accompany your officers to engage with users but there will always be uniformed back-up immediately available. Where was that?’
Jo looked at Leon, hoping he’d read the signs that this was not for the CEO’s ears. The ACC just smiled and waited.
She had no option but to plough on. ‘We didn’t have the number of officers we were expecting. One division had, er, they had another 41commitment so at the last minute their PSU, that’s a team of officers, didn’t come.’
Leon cut in. ‘That’s not altogether unusual. I’m sure Jo has recorded that unforeseen issue and has a clear decision in her policy book which sets out how she adjusted the operation.’ Jo’s mind flashed back to her very brief conversation with Bob before the briefing:
‘Can you do all seven warrants with just this lot?’
‘It’s tight. We need to do them all at once, otherwise word will get out and the sewers will be swimming in crack and heroin – but I’ll work something out.’
‘Righto, I’ll leave it with you.’
‘We did look at it,’ she muttered, hoping not to be drawn further on the point.
‘There you go. Tragic, but I’m sure we did all we could.’
Why the hell was he always so chipper?
‘So, here’s where we stand,’ said Nicola. ‘My staff are refusing to be part of Op Eradicate until this whole matter has been investigated and there are some cast-iron reassurances about their safety. They have a point.’
‘That’s a bit premature,’ said Jo. ‘We both know how many lives Eradicate has saved, how much crime it’s cut and how much money it’s saved the city. Three pounds saved for every pound invested.’
‘Spare me the lecture. I have a duty to my staff, not saving your career.’
‘That’s not fair. I’ve put my reputation on the line with this operation. Where else have the police challenged the war-on-drugs narrative with something more humane which treats addiction as the illness it is? I thought you of all people would understand.’ She nearly mentioned her sister, Caroline, but stopped herself just in time.
‘Now, let’s not get excited,’ said Leon. ‘The fact is that Nicola has lost a dear member of staff while she was in our care. We need to find out why and this might be the time to pause Eradicate while we take stock. After all, it’s not the most popular of our policing models.’ Jo looked at him in horror. How could he even consider that? Momentum was everything. 42
‘Who says policing has to be popular, so long as it works? “Protection of life and property.” That’s our job. That’s exactly what Eradicate does.’
‘Jo, we need to calm down a little. The Home Secretary has been on the phone to the chief this afternoon asking some very difficult questions about all this. She did her best to reassure the Right Honourable Lady but, suffice to say, this has brought some unwelcome interest in the force, and you. Anyway, I think we’re done here.’
Jo had a thousand more things to say but Leon and Nicola Merrion were both on their feet and making for the door, the CEO scowling at her as she went.
It was just the wrong side of midnight when Jo finally pulled onto her driveway. Any eighteen-hour shift would leave her feeling battered but this one was among the worst she’d experienced. At least after previous marathons, home had been her sanctuary. Now, the glowing lounge light told her that she had one more battle to fight before she could catch a few hours of sleep.
She eased the key in the lock and the door open, careful not to wake Ciaran and Liam. She hoped that Darren had fallen asleep on the settee and she could put the inevitable off for another day.
‘Hi,’ came his voice from the door on the right.
Shit.
‘Hi. Sorry I’m late. You didn’t have to wait up.’
Darren stood, walked over to her and took her in his arms. ‘Of course I did,’ he said before he kissed her auburn hair. ‘You’ve had a hell of a day.’ He held her and his stubble on her face triggered a rush of feelings she’d not felt for months.
His natural empathy, one of the things that had attracted her to him when they met in Liberia, was back. Sometimes it was his most infuriating quality though, especially when her feistier side was rising up. At the end of tricky days, just when she wanted to rant, he’d have the right words, the warm hugs and the level head to put things into perspective. But 43what was between them now felt different.
She eased herself out of his embrace. ‘Let me get a glass of wine, then we have to talk.’
‘I’ll get it. You sit down.’
Jesus. Stop being so bloody reasonable.
Darren returned carrying two large glasses of what Jo hoped was Pinot Grigio. ‘I don’t want to row,’ he said as he handed one to her.
‘Me neither,’ she replied as she shuffled over to make room for him. ‘But we have to sort this out and better now than with the boys earwigging.’
‘It’s just a job, Jo. It’s one article which, if I write well and the readers like it, will lead to many more and that’s stability for us. Not to mention flexibility so I can cover when you pull shifts like this one.’ He paused. ‘And fulfilment for me.’
‘Are you saying you’re not happy?’
He paused again.
‘Darren?’
‘It’s just … Don’t get me wrong, I love you and the boys but since you took on this job’ – he nodded towards her chief superintendent epaulettes – ‘I’ve become … Oh God, this is going to sound Neanderthal. I’ve become a house-husband in all but name.’
Jo pulled back and glared at him. ‘What, like I was – in all but name – for three years? Is this a woman’s place then? Barefoot, pregnant and up to my elbows in dishwater? I thought you were different.’ She gulped her wine and turned away.
‘No, no, please listen. Of course I don’t begrudge you success. God knows you’ve earned it. And the way you’ve come through the last couple of years has been awe-inspiring, but I’ve been filling the gaps and I’m bored.’
‘Bored?’
‘Not with you or home. With work. This is a fabulous opportunity to get back into traditional investigative journalism and flex my brain cells again. To show that idiot Sam, and whoever is pulling his strings, that 44there is still a place in the industry for people like me.’
Jo stood and paced the room. She needed to choose her words carefully.
‘Darren, I understand that. I promise I do. I’ve been where you are and I know how it demolishes your self-esteem. All I’m saying is that you cannot write a flagship piece crucifying me. We are bloody married, for Christ’s sake.’
‘Who says it will crucify you? It could go the other way and be the golden opportunity to tell your side of the story.’
She sat back down, in the armchair opposite. ‘Oh come on. You know Sam will never accept that. He’s completely in the pocket of the owners, who have their own hateful agenda. You might as well send in your resignation than a piece supporting this lefty, soft-on-crime disgrace to the uniform. Tell him where to stick his job.’
‘It’s more complicated than that,’ Darren muttered.
‘How? We can survive for a while on my salary. No amount of money is worth sacrificing a marriage.’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘Of course it’s not, but just imagine the pressure we’ll be under if you’re forced to write a fascist piece about how drug laws should be tightened, addicts cold-turkeyed in prison and the police should get back to locking up anyone not like them. Just leave the newspaper.’
Darren jumped up, knocking his wine glass over in the process. ‘You have no fucking idea,’ he yelled as he stormed out.