Page 63 of Slack Tide Kill

"Is that bruise on your throat from DCI Mayhew?" Brown called after her. "I heard you're on the brink."

Sally pushed into the lobby. The officer on desk duty was Simms and he waved her through. "They've already begun."

The air in the corridor hummed. The bullpen was bright and full, every seat taken by uniformed officers. Sally slid in and pressed to the wall. Mayhew stood at the front before a whiteboard loaded with photographs of the victim; many from the beach but others from an earlier time.

In a suit and loosened tie at some kind of themed party. Floppy-haired in a family photograph, younger. In school uniform with a yellow crest on the blazer pocket. His eyes shone bright.

All next to his mutilated corpse on the beach. Sally's stomach twisted.

"–reported missing this morning by his mother, Barbara Harrow," Mayhew said, "from the family home in Playden. 19 years old, just starting an apprenticeship as an electrician. We know he left work with one Lenny Campbell, his mentor, at approx. 4 p.m. on Sunday from Hastings. They were rewiring the old Jerwood Gallery; we have the work dockets to back that up, and we have Mr. Campbell and the victim on the gallery's CCTV, both upon entry and exit." She cleared her throat. "According to Mr. Campbell, the victim said he was going to the Black Hind pub in Winchelsea to meet friends."

Mayhew paused and looked out over the officers. "I have spoken with Mrs. Harrow this morning. She assumed her son was out with friends and stayed over at one of their houses. It's not unusual. But a second night was, so she rang us. Now, she has no idea where her son went or who he might have met up with. So Sunday afternoon is the last we have until the victim turns up on Dungeness."

She paused, letting that settle. Now the boy on the beach had a name. He was a real person to be grieved by family and friends, for whom the real pain was just beginning. It might never end. All Sally could do was bring justice.

JASON HARROW, read the name across the top of the whiteboard.

Jason.

"Our priority now is to hammer out his final hours." Mayhew flipped a page on a chart. "Teams are being assigned interviews and door knocks. Some in Hastings, some in and around the Black Hind, some with his colleagues, his family, trying to track down his friends. We'll do everything we can to build a complete picture."

She laid the chart down and gazed out. "This was a young man just starting a promising career. A local man. We need to do right by him." She stared, as if defying anyone to argue with her. None spoke. "Any questions, raise them with your team leader or DI Gemmell. And remember, the press are all over this. They will try to bait you. Do not let them. Leave all of that for me and Press Liaison. Your job is to gather the evidence, follow the trail and catch this killer. Thank you and dismissed."

The room filled with movement and noise as the officers stood. Sally pushed her way through. There was no sign of Liam yet. Mayhew was talking to Gemmell, and Sally shoved through.

"DCI, DI," she said.

"This doesn't concern you, Rogers," Mayhew said sharply, pointing to the side. "Wait."

"It all concerns me, DCI," Sally answered. "It concerns me you didn't tell me that the woman who found the body, Nancy Cagen, was the aunt of the original victim."

Gemmell's head swiveled to Mayhew. "Is that true, DCI?"

Mayhew's expression hardened. "It's all in the case notes, which have been made available. I haven't got time to spoon feed you every detail, Rogers."

"Cagen thinks Reg Rook killed her nephew," Sally went on, "30 years ago. Now we've got one Rook in custody and three on the run, and you still think it's spoon feeding to talk about this?"

Mayhew's lip curled. "That's actually what I was speaking with DI Gemmell about. We've seen movement on a credit card associated with Silas Rook. It's possible all three brothers boarded a sleeper ferry out of Dover late last night. The DI here's going to coordinate with French police to track them down. The Rooks have several rental properties in southern France, so we're setting up sting operations. Now does that satisfy you, or do you want to hear what we all had for breakfast, too?"

"I want to hear what the mother said," Sally volleyed back. "You spoke to her."

Mayhew's cheeks flushed a faint red. DI Gemmell raised both hands. "DCI, I can go get started."

"So go," Mayhew snarled.

Gemmell backed away. Mayhew stared a moment longer, then picked up her chart, slipped the top sheet free and shoved it against Sally's chest.

Sally took it. "What's this?"

"Associates of the victim."

Sally didn't look at it. "Tell me about the mother."

Mayhew watched Sally. The sharpness in her eyes softened by a degree. "She's destroyed."

"Of course."

"She's a single mother." Mayhew's voice stayed flat, though the words seemed to be costing her something. "Works at a call center in Hastings. She said she usually heard her son come in most evenings, but not that night." She paused. "She said he was saving up."