Once he’d dropped the boys off at his mother-in-law’s house, Darren drove towards the scene of the shootings but couldn’t get anywhere near, so he headed to Sussex Police HQ.
He had no idea how to play this but was convinced Sam Parkin was setting him up. It was one thing to be asked to cover a run-of-the-mill press conference where the police would say nothing yet promise the world, but the question he’d been told to ask was suicide. Not only would it show their hand to every other news outlet but it would almost certainly detonate his marriage.
He parked in the Tesco car park, five minutes’ walk from HQ, to give himself thinking time and to get his act together. His mind drifted back to the hold Parkin had over him.
He was sure he hadn’t been involved in the dark practices others had gone to prison for, but could he be certain his fingerprints weren’t somewhere in the evidence trail? In those mad days of angry editors and impossible deadlines, he’d helped whoever asked. They all had. Could he have inadvertently handled some nugget obtained by nefarious means? He 84couldn’t take the chance and, when the dust settled, Jo would understand. Surely.
As he reached the top of the hill he could see that he’d left it late for a front row seat. Arc lights and cameras were already set up and the press pack was five deep and ten abreast. Maybe he could use the sheer numbers as an excuse not to get his question out. Would Sam accept that? Who was he kidding?
He recognised fewer than a handful of the waiting journalists. Hardly surprising given most of them looked about twelve and he rarely covered news events like this. He was grateful for the comparative anonymity that would bring, and the fact he could avoid inane small talk while they were waiting.
He pretended to message on his phone while prima-donna camera operators around him whinged about the failing light and whether they could get the spokesperson to stand against a neutral background.
Suddenly, the pack shuffled and surged, shutters clicked and voices called out questions they knew would never be answered.
Over the shoulder of a biker-jacketed woman in front of him, he glimpsed Jo as she strode out, clipboard in hand and rock-like expression across her face. He recognised the red-haired woman by her side as press officer Clarissa Heard. Jo liked her and she enjoyed a good reputation with the local media.
Darren wondered whether now was the time to slip away and take the consequences. He glanced round. Even if he wanted to, the latecomers had now boxed him in.
‘Thank you, thank you,’ Jo boomed in a voice Darren was more used to hearing calling the boys in for tea. ‘I have a short statement to give, after which I will take one or two questions. Please remember though, this is an active and fast-moving investigation and I won’t have that much to add beyond what I’m about to say.’ As ever, she was doing this from memory. They shared a pet hate of senior officers reading their carefully worded statements, giving the impression they wanted 85to distance themselves from the party line.
‘Today, shortly after five-thirty, two men were shot while travelling in a car on the Drove in Brighton. Police and paramedics arrived within five minutes but sadly both men were declared dead at the scene. Next of kin are being informed. Our initial hypothesis is that this was a targeted attack and there is no reason for people to be alarmed. That said, we would ask the public to remain vigilant and report anything suspicious to the police. We’d ask anyone who was in the area of the Drove between five-fifteen and five-forty-five today to contact us whether or not you think you’ve seen anything, particularly if you might have dashcam footage. Thank you.’
A cacophony of questions erupted, but Clarissa chose who’d get the floor. ‘Mike Parker.’
‘Thank you. Chief Superintendent, do you believe this is gang related?’
‘It’s too early to say,’ she replied, as they all knew she would.
‘Karen Pollard,’ Clarissa called out.
‘Mrs Howe, this is another horrific event on your watch. Is Brighton becoming a no-go area?’
‘Of course not, but I’m not going to speculate on what’s behind this.’
She parried a handful of similar questions with the same disdain and Darren thought he’d got away with it. He could just say he hadn’t been invited to speak. Then his mind flashed to images of Ciaran and Liam watching him being led away in handcuffs. Just as Jo was turning to walk away, he took a breath and called out.
‘Is there any truth in the rumours that one of the dead men was an undercover police officer working on a drugs operation?’
Jo spun back and, even from this distance, he could feel her rage. Clarissa called out, ‘Sorry, can you say who you are and where you are from?’
Jo hissed, ‘I know who he is and I’m not dignifying that with a reply,’ and then she stormed off. 86
Suddenly, Darren was surrounded by journalists demanding to know more. He forced his way through them, ignoring their pleas while trying to work out where the hell he would sleep tonight.
Having been too enraged to pick up his first three calls, Jo knew Gary Hedges wasn’t going to give up until he’d hunted her down. She needed time to process what had just happened, to work out a future and to cry. Ideally she would have sprinted out of Headquarters and up the hills that climbed above it. But that would have literally played into the easy stereotype of female leaders that some insisted on.
Instead, she headed for her favourite bolthole at HQ: the Operations Department. During the day there was enough buzz to make it feel like a proper police station, and by night it was blissfully deserted.
The phone buzzed again.
‘Yes.’
‘Are you where I think you are?’ said Gary.
‘Probably.’
‘Just stay there.’
She thought about slipping out of the fire door but that would be childish. A far door squeaked then closed just as the motion-sensor lights floodlit the corridor. A few seconds later, Gary appeared in the open doorway. ‘I bet your boys wipe the floor with you at hide and seek,’ he said.
‘I’m not in the mood, Gary,’ she mumbled.
He raised his hands in surrender. ‘I heard what happened,’ he said, as he took a seat on the other side of the desk.
‘I mean, what the fuck?’
Gary shrugged, then said, ‘People are wondering if you told Darren about the UC.’
‘How fucking dare you. Who the fuck do you think you are?’
Gary stood his ground. ‘Hey, hey. I’m not saying I think that, but you need to know the gossip. I thought it was better you hear it from me than 87from snide comments in the corridors.’
Three deep breaths later, Jo said, ‘Of course I didn’t. Why would I? We don’t talk about stuff like that. He knows about the operation but I never go into details.’
‘Before you throw that laptop at me, I’m being devil’s advocate here. If you didn’t tell him, how did he know?’
‘Don’t you think I’ve been asking the same question ever since I heard his weaselly voice pipe up?’
‘Have you asked him?’
They exchanged a look then stayed quiet as the door to the corridor opened and closed again. Footsteps came closer, then the faint hiss of inaudible radio chatter took over.
A firearms officer walked past the door, then back and poked her head in. ‘Evening, ma’am, sir. Everything OK?’
‘Fine thanks, Nahida,’ said Gary.
She nodded and walked on. Waiting for the far door to open and close, they stayed silent. Once Jo was happy there were no potential eavesdroppers, she replied, ‘Of course I haven’t. I can’t imagine a time when I’ll ever have a civil conversation with him again.’
Gary leant forward. ‘I know you’re angry – Christ, I would be, but take a moment. I don’t know Darren as well as you …’
‘I’d hope not.’
‘But he’s not the sort of person to drop a bomb on you like that for no good reason.’
‘Any decent husband wouldn’t do it at all.’
Her phone buzzed on the desk. She picked it up and showed Gary the display: Darren Mobile.
‘Answer it.’
‘Why are you whispering? He can’t hear you until I press “accept”,’ she said, cracking a smile for the first time since she’d stormed away from the press conference.
‘That’s better,’ said Gary as the call rang out. ‘You’ve got to speak to 88him. I’ll leave you to it. Oh, and whatever you do, don’t look at any news apps.’ He stood and walked to the door. ‘Good luck and let me know how it goes.’
The beauty was completely lost on Darren as he stared across the Downs from Ditchling Beacon. How would he explain this to Jo? Would she even pick up his calls? With his career on a thread and his marriage sunk, were it not for the boys he’d seriously contemplate taking the ultimate alternative. He weighed up which would be the quickest and least painful way to end it all. Just thinking about that made him realise he still had a grain of fight left in him.
His ringing phone snapped him back to the present. Jo.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said, as he picked up.
‘Where are you?’
‘In the car, trying to work things out.’
‘Where are the boys?’ It felt like she was grilling him as a suspect.
‘At your mum’s. Look, I can explain. I had no choice.’
Silence, then, ‘There are always choices, Darren, and you took the wrong one. Have you seen the news? Bollock all about the shooting, just the fact that the reporter who asked about an undercover officer happens to be my fucking husband. And the picture of me storming off; that’s the cherry on the icing on the fucking cake.’
‘You shouldn’t read those things.’
‘Says the journalist. What the hell were you playing at?’
‘Can we do this face to face?’
‘No, let’s do it now.’
His mind whirred for the right words. ‘Look, I’m being blackmailed, of sorts.’
‘That’s like being a bit pregnant. You either are or you aren’t.’
Darren tried to gather the right words. ‘I’m not sure but I may have been involved in something years ago and, if it comes out, I could end up in prison.’ 89
‘Prison? What the hell have you done?’
‘That’s why I need to explain in person. I’m not sure what they have on me.’
‘Who?’
‘The newspaper for starters, but maybe others.’
Darren listened expectantly for some hint of understanding. The silence was killing him.
Finally, ‘I can’t deal with this shit now. We’ll talk later but it better be fucking good if you have any desire for our marriage coming out of this intact.’ The silence as she ended the call crushed Darren and he choked on his sobs.