Buried (DC Jack Warr #1) - Lynda La Plante Page 0,120

the photos on the wall was of Jack on Charlie’s shoulders, aged about 5. Charlie’s arms were raised, his huge builder’s hands lying gently on Jack’s thighs, holding him safe. His triceps and biceps ‒ even the muscles on top of his shoulders and down his sides ‒ stood out through his tight white T-shirt. The gentle giant.

Jack pulled open the spare bedroom door as the puffing and panting coming along the hallway got closer. Charlie was now a skinny grey man, with too much skin to cover his non-existent muscles. Jack felt a swell of emotion come from deep inside, but it wasn’t sadness, it was anger. How dare the man who’d held Jack high enough to touch the sky be leaning so heavily on two women because walking ten feet is too much for him? How dare this be happening to his dad when the world was full of bastards like Tony Fisher, who refuse to fucking die? How dare this hard-working, generous, gentle man be taken from people who needed him in their lives?

As if he could tell what his son was thinking, Charlie put his arm around Jack’s shoulder. The effort of lifting it made what was left of his bicep shake.

‘You were 5 in that pic. It was the first year we had you. I took you to work, showing you off. Been doing the same ever since.’

Jack put his arm around Charlie’s thin waist and pulled him close, allowing the old man to lean on him and rest where he stood. Jack’s mobile rang, disturbing the moment.

‘I’ll leave it, Dad,’ said Jack.

‘Answer it,’ Charlie insisted. ‘I’m so proud of everything you do, lad, and the thought of me holding you back would kill me quicker than any cancer. Do what makes you happy.’

*

Ridley was the kind of officer who understood that you have to go down a dozen dead-ends before you find a way through to the next stage of an investigation. But today, he sounded as close to defeated as Jack had ever heard; he made no bones about the fact that he’d called Jack in for a brainstorming session.

‘We’ve shifted tack to try and trace them beyond Düsseldorf. They’ve got to launder the money, so we’re looking into European countries where that’s most easily done. And they might have more than one new identity each, because the women who entered Germany in that coach certainly haven’t left across any official border. No luck yet on who might have made new passports for them.’

‘I may have an idea about that, sir,’ said Jack. ‘I’ll make a quick stop before I head in and see what I can find out.’

‘My best wishes to your dad,’ said Ridley. ‘And Jack – Superintendent Raeburn wants to see you in her office as soon as you arrive.’

Jack had put in for his sergeant’s exam not long back and he assumed that Raeburn wanted to see him about that. Ridley had told him that he was not going to approve Anik’s request for the same promotion, so Jack figured it was all pretty much in the bag. He felt no swell of excitement, no anticipation, no nerves, just a simple, practical need for a pay rise because of Penny and Charlie, and because of the baby.

He went back into the spare bedroom. Charlie was sitting on the bed by himself. He knew that what he was about to say wasn’t entirely true, but it was entirely necessary. Jack needed his dad to die knowing that his boy’s life was complete – even though it wasn’t yet.

‘Can you keep a secret, Dad?’ he asked.

And Jack told him about the impending promotion, the baby and the marriage proposal. Charlie cried, loud and proud, and Jack held him tighter than he’d ever done before in his life.

*

Eddie Rawlins was pleasantly surprised to see Jack on his doorstep.

‘Come in, come in,’ he said.

Neither man noticed, as the front door closed, a figure watching from across the road, in the shadow of a tree.

Eddie was already on the whisky. It seemed more like a habit, to numb the dullness of his life, than any attempt to get drunk. Jack got straight to the point.

‘Who would you go to for fake passports? Not me, you understand, Eddie ‒ you. Where would an old-timer like you go?’

‘You in trouble, son?’

‘I need to trace some people who’ve been around since your day. I don’t think they’d trust new blood ‒ I think they’d dig up an