Page 101 of Her Last Breath

He didn’t reply, instead rising to gather Jane’s cup and make another tea. She welcomed the respite, her knees shaking under the table.

Eventually, he sat back down and cupped his fresh brew. Jane did the same, taking a scalding sip again. It was a habit she had picked up from her mother, she realised.

‘I’m sure you’ll find the rest of the cash somewhere,’ he said slowly. ‘Maybe Burrows stuffed it down some stripper’s crotch or gave it to the local homeless shelter. And why would I pay Alice? What would someone like her have to offer me?’

‘Alice helped you solve the killing of Daisy Price, plus a number of other crimes that were taking place around the streets where she lived. St Agnes was notorious before little Daisy’s death, police didn’t venture there. Now, it might not be the best place to live, but it’s a hell of lot better, safer, than it was.’

He stared at her coldly.

‘Why are we having this conversation, ma’am?’

‘Because there is over eighty thousand pounds of public money that you need to account for. And because no matter how much you helped me apprehend Colin Wilson, I hate corrupt officers. Loathe them, in fact. So, tell me again, DS Johnson: where is the money you claimed from Burnley Police?’

He rubbed his face and sighed.

‘Yes, fine. Alice was also an informant. Not a regular one, but she had her uses.’

‘You paid her how much?’

‘A couple of hundred every now and then.’

‘And were there others?’

‘Yes.’

‘Enough to warrant two grands worth of intel? Because that’s what the IOPC are going to ask you.’

She shook her head when he didn’t reply, disappointed more than anything else.

‘Why did you do it?’

He stayed silent. Jane’s phone buzzed and she saw it was a message from Dr Lydia.

The initial report highlighting our concerns into the death of Bill Hargreaves went to your department, along with the post-mortem findings.

Jane wasn’t entirely surprised, visualising what had probably happened. The report and note of concern had come into the section, probably to DS Johnson directly as acting DI. It was another piece of evidence of how he worked. The suicide of dull Bill Hargreaves was beneath him, not sexy enough to follow through. Just like Alice and Mark. Was he so unaffected by the deaths of people he had come across professionally that he let them go unchallenged?

That didn’t sit well with Jane. It didn’t make sense. Raising her eyes to look at her deputy, still so calm and unaffected, Jane’s mind started to head in a completely different direction. One that gave DS Dave Johnson a far more sinister reason to suppress the report on Bill Hargreaves and to determine the deaths of Alice Rogers and Mark Burrows as suicide.

Chapter 70

Jane didn’t know if the hammering sound was in her chest or head. It felt like minutes as she re-read Dr Lydia’s message, glancing at DS Johnson, who was looking at her benignly.

‘Can I use your toilet?’ she asked innocently.

‘Guest one is out there,’ he said, pointing back to the entrance hallway.

Jane put the toilet seat down, the thoughts in her head forming dangerous shapes. DS Johnson knew about the anomalies in Bill’s death. She recalled the report, the details Dr Lydia had given her. Any police officer worth their salt would know to at least investigate. But Dave Johnson shut it down.

Mark was on his payroll, she was convinced Alice was too. Bill had been paying for his pricey engine parts somehow. Was he an informant too?

The haulage firms going out of business, was that just another ruse of DS Johnson’s? Intel he bribed out of a vulnerable man to construct a case against the smugglers and traffickers? Or was there more to it? Was he using that intel to then get a payback from the haulage firm bosses? Letting them fold when they were no longer worth anything to him?

No, he wouldn’t risk that, surely? They would break his legs, those sorts of guys. Unless they were banged up and unable to?

The small guest loo was making her feel claustrophobic, the automatic air freshener cloying at the back of her throat. She felt lightheaded as she stood up, flushed the toilet. Turning on the taps, Jane splashed cold water on her face. The bathroom mirror told her she looked like shit.

What was she thinking? This was the man that had come to her aid in her confrontation with Colin Wilson. Unbidden, the image of DS Johnson crouched over Colin’s bent and cracked body came into her mind. The pooled blood, the glassy eyes.