Time To Play KA Richardson (best thriller books to read .txt) 📖

Dive Team HQ, South Shields – 2 November

By the time Marlo arrived at the dive team’s headquarters, her appearance had changed completely. The dishevelled, ‘just got out of bed’ look had been banished and replaced with something more functional. Her hair was swept up in a tight bun, and her figure disguised with the loose folds of the nondescript black T-shirt and combat pants that made up her work uniform. The coffee had kicked in making her look like she’d been awake for hours.

She made her way down to the wet room at the base of the stairs. The room wasn’t actually wet, it had a waterproof coating all over the floor, and drains strategically placed around. When the team came back from a dive, this was where the equipment was stored and cleaned. It was also where the team would congregate.

True to form, the dive team sergeant, Colin Sharp, looked up as she entered.

‘Hey, Marlo. Since you’re first here, you’re lead diver. Check your gear. We’re taking the small RIB,’ he said, referring to one of the rigid inflatable boats used by the team for rescues. ‘It should be big enough. The body’s in the weir at Durham Cathedral. River’s high ’cos of the rain. Body’s probably snagged as the report from the cop on scene is that it’s not moving from the weir.’

‘Have we got a rendezvous point?’ asked Marlo, as she checked her mask and lines.

‘Yeah, the RVP is at the small car park next to the cathedral. DI Ali McKay is running point. The guy who handled that murder in Sunderland a few months ago, the one that got away?’

‘Oh great, so we’ve landed some tit who probably doesn’t know his arse from his elbow?’

‘Now that’s no way to talk about Mac,’ joked Doc, entering the room and receiving a punch to the arm from Mac in response. Mac and Doc were like chalk and cheese. Complete polar opposites, but they got on like a house on fire. Mac aptly nicknamed from a shortening of his surname, MacDonagh, and Doc after an incident involving the rescue of a dog from a pond while he was walking the beat. He’d given the dog mouth-to-nose resuscitation and the nickname Doc Dolittle was his reward.

All the team had nicknames. Marlo’s was Buck, a shortening of her own surname, though some cops would dispute that if asked. The sergeant was known as Sharpie. The only member of the team that didn’t have a nickname was Connor Maynard, the crew’s youngest member at only twenty-seven years old. He’d transferred into the force a couple of months before with full qualifications and breezed through his entrance interview. Once in, he’d been seconded to the dive team when a spot became available.

Sharpie stopped the comments about the DI with one look at Marlo. His mouth set in a line, he told Mac and Doc to go and prepare the RIB, before turning towards her.

‘Buck, you know what I’m going to say. You don’t even know the guy, and he outranks you. Bite your tongue.’

Marlo had the grace to blush slightly, knowing her mouth often spoke before her thoughts had caught up. ‘Sorry. I’ll rein it in. Won’t happen again.’

Sharpie nodded and went back to lining up the oxygen tanks ready for removal into the vehicle.

With all of them working together, they were briefed and ready to leave inside of half an hour.

Outskirts of Hetton-le-Hole – 2 November

Elvie was terrified. She and Nita had been herded out of the van and in through the front door of a house. They’d been shepherded upstairs to a tiny room, thrown inside and a key had been turned. There were two single beds and a lamp on a small table. The walls were bare, and the only other thing present was a tray containing a large jug of water and a plate with some dry sandwiches on.

Elvie had never really eaten bread. She knew what it was but was more used to the flat breads her Noni had made, or, of course, rice. But her hunger and thirst won over any doubts she had. She pushed her fear to one side, helped Nita to the bed, and slowly held a plastic cup to her friend’s lips.

‘Mabagal,’ she whispered as Nita tried to gulp the water. Nita nodded and slowed down as ordered. After Nita finished downing the water, Elvie handed her a piece of sandwich. Slowly Nita took a bite of the strange food and chewed. Cheese. She’d had that before. Nodding at Elvie, she took the sandwich and took another bite leaving her friend free to eat too.

From the language of the men at the car park, Elvie presumed they were either in the United Kingdom or America. For a moment, emotion clogged her throat as she silently thanked her Noni.

Noni had taught her to speak, read, and write English. When Noni had been young, she’d fallen head over heels in love with a British soldier, stationed at one of the nearby camps. The soldier had fallen for Noni too; his name had been William Grant. William and Noni had begun a relationship. He had wanted her to come and live with him in Suffolk, England. But Noni’s parents had been unhappy with the relationship. They had kept Noni inside and after a few weeks, William had had to leave to return with his platoon. Only days after he had left, Noni had discovered she was carrying his child, Elvie’s mother, Myrna. Luckily for Noni, her parents supported her throughout. They’d had no idea that Noni had kept in touch with William, who went on to marry and have his own children. The letters between the two continued until a few years ago they’d stopped coming. And when they stopped both Noni and her granddaughter presumed that William had passed away.

Elvie had