Page 58 of Slack Tide Kill

Sally barely felt hungry, but she knew the residual adrenaline was suppressing her appetite. She hadn't eaten since the steak bake, and her body needed fuel. "Good. Thanks."

Liam booked them in, Sally took a photo of the suspect list, then she collected her plastic bag of wet running gear and headed out of the room. The bullpen was quiet but for a small group of officers at one desk, looking at photographs of the victim.

The boy on the beach.

Sally walked over and the group looked up. Three men and two women, their faces swimming before her. She recognized Chakrati, Hawlin, and some others whose names she didn't know.

"DI Gemmell?"

"That's me, ma'am," said one of the men, bobbing to his feet. He was older, late 30s in an expensive suit, and tall, with thin, unruly blond hair. He offered his hand. "Stephen Gemmell."

"Sally Rogers and Liam O'Connell," Sally said, shaking his hand. "Has there been any news from forensics, or the victim's ID?"

Gemmell shook his head. "Nothing yet, ma'am."

Sally looked at the other officers, their faces blurring before her. "You're locals, or out of Dover?"

"I'm out of Eastbourne," said Gemmell. "Just transferred in recently. PCs Chakrati and Hawlin are local, but you probably know that. DS Flaherty and Sergeant Simms are in from Dover."

Flaherty was a tall, slender woman with limpid green eyes and blond hair. Simms was a solid block, the build of a linebacker with ridged cauliflower ears.

"Any suspects yet?"

"Just Gabriel Rook. The whole county's on alert for the rest of his crew. There's not much else."

Sally looked at Liam, and he shrugged.

"We've got a prelim list up in the training suite," she said. "All names linked to the Rooks in some way. Can you start working through them? No calls, just background. You mostly need ages and careers. Our profile suggests the killer's a man in his late 50s, involved in some kind of emergency work or land management."

"Ah…" Gemmell said awkwardly. "Ma'am, the DCI's asked us expressly not to work with you."

Sally smiled. "Of course she has. Look, take the whiteboard out of our room and just work it like it's yours. Or spend the night looking at these photos." She gestured at the table. "Your call."

She walked away. Liam lingered for a moment, introducing himself and shaking hands. He only caught up to her at the uniform locker, as she collected another spare set of kit.

"You've got nothing with you?" he asked.

"Nothing but mud."

They stepped out of the station into the cold drizzle of an early spring night. The air was cold and smelled of the sea. The press numbers had dwindled by now, with no sign of Tania Brown, but a half dozen media vans remained, engines idling.

Liam led them away from the station and through the quiet, darkened town. A few pubs were open, but quiet, light spilling out in golden halos. Soon they reached Mermaid Street. It was cobbled and steep, flanked by timber-framed houses that leaned toward each other overhead like old men sharing a secret.

It was pretty, as advertised. Quaint.

Their hotel was a converted pub, low-ceilinged, with uneven floors and walls the color of old cream. A young woman checked them in without asking any questions. Liam took his small travel suitcase to his room. Sally had nothing to drop but the spare uniform and wet bag, so just took a seat in the restaurant.

It was dim and peaceful, with a fire in the hearth and a balmy warmth in the air. There were a handful of other guests, with candles on the tables, and a menu written on a blackboard. Sally studied the choices, half-listening to the twang of a tourist's Midwest accent nearby, commenting on the ruggedness of the stone walls.

Liam returned and sat. Sally ordered fish pie. Liam ordered sausages and mash, then looked at the wine list for slightly too long before putting it down and asking for water.

They ate mostly in silence. The food was good; thick, rich, hot, and Sally worked through it steadily, refueling rather than really tasting. Across the table Liam cut his food into small pieces and moved them around. His water glass was drained and refilled twice. He kept glancing toward the bar.

"You ever tried AA?" Sally asked quietly.

He looked up. "What?"

"AA. That paramedic, Logan. He's a sponsor."