Caught in the Web by Emmy Ellis (classic english novels .TXT) 📕

about cases not being solved fast enough. The DCI had forgotten what it was like to be in the thick of things, all the jigsaw pieces scattered, some missing, everyone scrabbling to make the full picture.

After making the request for two uniforms in plain clothing with an unmarked car to sit it out in the street, Burgess turned to Shaw. “This is fucking weird, the lot of it.”

“You’re telling me. Aren’t you worried he knows who you are? Should you be staying at my place until this is all over?”

Burgess grimaced. “What, and have the mess of your gaff irritating the shit out of me as well as the case? No, thank you—but cheers for the offer.”

“I’ll stay at yours then.” Shaw gave that look of his that dared Burgess to argue the toss.

That Shaw wanted to be with him round the clock, to make sure he didn’t come to harm, was admirable. A proper good mate, Shaw was.

“I can just about manage that—if you clean up after yourself.” Burgess succeeded in giving a smile and a short laugh.

Weird how he was stuck in a beyond strange situation and could still find it in him to see the funny side of things. Years of practice, he supposed. Years of looking for the brightest side in the darkest of circumstances. Now he thought about it, things had been black since he’d been ten years old really. And to think that the arrival of those coppers telling his mother that her husband was dead had come to this years later…

Yeah, Burgess could admit he’d joined the police force with a different kind of force inside him, compelling him to find killers and bring them to justice. To find his father’s murderer and see him locked behind bars. Yet another cliché to add to the long list. But he was glad now that he’d joined up. If the recent events had played out while Burgess was an accountant or working in construction or whatever, he’d have felt just as useless as he had back then, unable to do a bloody thing to make things better. At least now he was in the thick of the investigation and knew exactly how the case was progressing. He wouldn’t have to ask what the fuck was being done to find the creepy shit who’d frightened his mother.

The question burning inside his mind, though, was who had killed his father? Was his death connected to the murders sixteen years ago and the recent ones? He needed to get back to the station and look up those files. Start putting two and two together.

The uniforms were taking a sodding age to arrive. It pissed him off something chronic.

“We can’t just sit here,” he said, tetchiness sparking his nerve endings. “You ring in for updates on house-to-house going on at the canal, see if anyone spotted anything. I’ll give Marla a buzz.”

Burgess got out of the car. Both of them talking inside the vehicle would piss him off even more. He needed to concentrate without Shaw’s voice bothering him. Needed some fresh air.

Leaning his arse against the door, he dialled Marla, scanning up and down the street. Nothing but houses and empty gardens. “Got anything for me?”

“Why did I know you’d be ringing me instead of letting me just get on with things, Burge?”

“Because I always bug you.”

“You do, but I love you anyway. It’s looking the same as Anita Curtis at the moment. King came in just now, by the way, saying my puppy told him he had to take on the other bodies waiting to for a postmortem so I could concentrate on the canal man, plus go over Anita for a second time. Something I should know? Because having King in the vicinity…my skin’s crawling.”

Trusting Marla implicitly, Burgess rattled off the latest information. “I know I don’t need to say it, but keep it to yourself. I haven’t had a chance to inform the team yet.”

“Bloody hell. Are you all right?”

He shrugged as though she could see him. “It’s a killer who needs to be found, simple as that. And Mum’ll be fine at the hotel. Bit of a break for her, even though she’ll be worrying. But if the recent murders are linked to the other two from years ago—and, come on, they have to be—then we won’t have another body to deal with. Only two were committed back then, according to Mum. So unless I find out differently, you can breathe a sigh of relief that the tramp bloke is the last one.”

“But to find out you have a brother—to find out this way. And your poor mother…”

He imagined sympathy on Marla’s face, how, if they were talking in person, she’d have wrapped him up in a hug and stroked his back. He was suddenly glad this conversation was taking place over the phone. He couldn’t deal with compassion. Had to stay strong. Focused.

“I know, Mar, but life is fucking weird, as we’re well aware.”

“You’ll let me know if you need to meet up at The Pig tonight, won’t you?”

“Will do, but I need to speak to the surveillance coppers who have just turned up. I’ll catch you soon.”

He ended the call and walked over to the red Fiat that had been parked between two other cars over the road from his mother’s. After speaking to the policemen inside, having given them explicit instructions to be vigilant, not take a cheeky nap, and to ring him the second they spotted anyone acting suspiciously, he returned to his car. Revved the engine. Drove away from his childhood home with Shaw telling him the house-to-house by the canal had turned up jack shit and they were in the same position as they’d been earlier with regards to the male victim’s death.

Burgess didn’t answer, his head too full of bullshit swimming