Death Line Read Online Free Page A

I know he’s young, but he’s enthusiastic, bursting with ideas. Give him a fair
hearing. From what I’ve seen these past few weeks, this place needs a bit of new blood.”
    Powell’s knuckles went white. That score-line? Maybe a tad premature.

5
    “Somebody saw something. Somebody out there knows where the boy is.” DCI Knight ran his cool gaze over a tense squad packed tight into a too-cramped space. Through
the windows, an azure sky was at odds with the communal dark mood. With no small step let alone giant leap in the hunt for Josh, extra man- and womanpower had been drafted in. A bigger
incident-stroke-briefing room was currently being fitted out along the corridor to cope with the scale of the inquiry now codenamed Operation Swift. Everyone hoped it would live up to its
billing.
    Bev carried out a quick scan, head-counting, clocking faces: a fair few she’d not seen before. Among them, maybe, would be members of the eight-strong POLSA team plucked from stations
across the city. Wherever they worked the moveable feast of specialist trained officers tended to stick close, as in super-glued jam. Among new recruits were old hands: Powell, ankles crossed,
leant against a side wall sucking a lemon; Mac, seated alongside, surreptitiously wiped canteen fallout from his shirt front; DCs Darren New, Sumitra Gosh and Carol Pemberton sat at a desk near the
door. Propped against a printer was Jack-Mr-Nice-Guy-Not-Hainsworth, the incident room co-ordinator. New DC Danny Rees was on the front row, hanging on Lancelot’s every hackneyed word.
    Hackneyed. Bev pursed her lips. Was that fair? There were only so many ways to say what Knight was getting at. Police need witnesses. And in Josh’s case, the squad needed quality
intelligence now. As he paused to let the import sink in, Bev subtly scrutinised the new guy.
    Until yesterday, their paths had barely crossed, but with any Category A enquiry it was a given it’d be headed by a DCI. After perfunctory intros, he’d kicked off the brief by naming
Powell as deputy senior investigating officer which could explain the current citrus-sucking.
    Brushing a shaggy shade-of-Guinness fringe out of strikingly blue eyes, Bev wondered idly if the follically-challenged Knight shaved his head. Lot of blokes did, cutting their losses and hoping
the look was more macho. Not Knight. He was way too pretty to be a goon; the bald scalp only accentuated the chiselled bone structure, full lips, sexy eyes that were a tad bluer than grey. He was
fit and knew it. One of the reasons she didn’t fancy him.
    Had a certain amount of sympathy though, must be well hard for any gaffer to come to an enclave like Highgate and lead a squad that took no prisoners. She gave a wry smile. Well, no prisoners
far as bosses go. Bev knew the odd colleague was gunning for him, others would suck up like heavy duty Dysons. Which was worse? Close call, because behind the scenes they’d all hold back to
see if he was any cop. Only then would he be admitted to the pack. Human nature, wasn’t it?
    Sharp cookie like Knight would be aware of all this peripheral stuff. He also had to contend with the professional pressure of the current case. A missing child didn’t just give parents
nightmares. Not that you’d know it to look at Knight. Casual, hands in pockets, he stood in front of one of the whiteboards like some trendy university don.
    “The boy didn’t just disappear in a puff of smoke.” The smooth vowels would grate on some people round these parts. “We’re not in the Bermuda triangle – and I
don’t believe in little green men.” If he was waiting for a laugh it didn’t come.
    Ironically his head obscured the most important exhibit on the board: Josh’s photograph. Bev didn’t need to see it; the boy’s likeness was fixed in her mind’s eye. Like
most officers here she’d worked on missing minors inquiries before, but something about little Josh touched her heart. Last night’s trawl