Chapters (65)
- Cover
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Chapter 27
- Chapter 28
- Chapter 29
- Chapter 30
- Chapter 31
- Chapter 32
- Chapter 33
- Chapter 34
- Chapter 35
- Chapter 36
- Chapter 37
- Chapter 38
- Chapter 39
- Chapter 40
- Chapter 41
- Chapter 42
- Chapter 43
- Chapter 44
- Chapter 45
- Chapter 46
- Chapter 47
- Chapter 48
- Chapter 49
- Chapter 50
- Chapter 51
- Chapter 52
- Chapter 53
- Chapter 54
- Chapter 55
- Chapter 56
- Chapter 57
- Chapter 58
- Chapter 59
- Chapter 60
- Acknowledgements
- Canelo Crime
- About the Author
- Also by Rachel Lynch
‘ID?’ She knew what was coming. Will had left the office to buy his lunch.
‘One was well known on the estate for being a bit of a heavy bastard at times. His name is PC Brook.’
‘And DS Phillips was paired with Brook.’
Rob didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to. Kelly could see in his eyes that any shred of trust he’d had for their colleague was evaporating.
‘Have you checked to see if it’s on HOLMES?’ she asked.
‘It’s not.’
Emma interrupted them. ‘I see we’re famous, boss.’ She nodded to the seventy-two-inch flat-screen TV on the wall. Rob reached for the remote to turn up the volume. It was an interview on Sky with the Shadow Home Secretary, a character always on the lookout for ways to sully the government.
‘We’ve made our position clear time and time again: this government refuses to address the real issues facing the British public. People don’t want to hear bickering and ego-jostling over Brexit: they want to see knife crime reduced, they want to know that their NHS is safe, they want the politicians to do what they were elected to do!’
The politician was animated and forceful and it was a powerful display. The ineffectiveness of current leaders had left vast swathes of vacuous opportunities in modern politics, and MPs like this one had stepped up to fill them. She was tipped to become leader within five years, and then prime minister soon after. A strapline scrolled along the bottom of the screen: Barricades in Cumbrian city against knife crime. In smaller letters, the two murders were described for those new to the crisis.
Kelly was so engrossed in the news unfolding that she was unaware of the crowd gathering behind her. Admin staff, uniforms and security guards alike stood and watched the TV report.
The screen divided in two and the Mayor of London took the right-hand side, giving her opinion on how best to tackle the growing spate of fatal stabbings now spilling out of London and into the provinces. It was like a sickness, infecting everything in its path. The office was transfixed. No one made a sound.
When the interviews were finished: ‘We believe that the government continues to fail the people of this country by channelling unnecessary money into the pockets of their own, and neglecting the clear wishes of the voters: to tackle, head on, the desperate fight on our streets of kids knifing one another to death…’
‘London has led by example and knife crime is under control—’
‘That is erroneous, disingenuous and, frankly, dangerous…’ the shadow minister butted in.
The spat turned into a full-on fight and the interviewer struggled to keep the two women calm.