Crossing the Line (Kerry Wilkinson) Read Free Page B

We’re trying to get the CCTV enhanced but it’s the same old story. After that, there’s nothing.
    We’re checking number plates just in case he had a car waiting but there’s nothing so far and I
    wouldn’t expect anything anyway – he knew where he was going. He could easily have changed his
    clothes and gone back to the centre. We’re checking the alleys in case any clothing has been
    abandoned but I’ve just got a load of people complaining about hunting through rubbish. Dispatch told
    me one of our lot found a pile of used condoms under a flower pot. Knowing the area, it could’ve
    been some sort of modern art thing but then it could just be a bunch of daisy-chaining teenagers. Either way, they’re pissed off.’
    ‘Is there actually any good news?’ Cole asked.
    ‘I wouldn’t call it that. We’ve been talking to the news channels to see if they captured our hoody
    on camera without making it too obvious that we’ve got nothing ourselves. We’ve given them the old
    “maintaining relations” line and slipped in that we could get a warrant – but if they had any footage of the guy, they’d be running it themselves. There’s nothing so far and we’re not expecting anything.’
    Jessica saw the little colour that was left in Cole’s face drain away as he rubbed the skin above his
    left eye until it began to flake. She guessed he was picturing the conversation he was going to have
    with the superintendent: no suspect, hardly any camera footage, no witnesses, one councillor in
    hospital – all in a daytime attack in the city centre as the Home Secretary watched on.
    It wasn’t one of Greater Manchester Police’s finer moments.
    ‘What exactly are the news channels saying?’
    Jessica peered over his shoulder towards the board, deliberately avoiding eye contact. ‘The usual
    – some ex-Met police guy was on, saying that security should have been tighter and that he didn’t
    believe something like that would happen in Westminster.’
    ‘They really think we’re all monkeys up here, don’t they?’
    ‘Well we do get paid peanuts . . .’
    Another hint of a worry line creased onto Cole’s forehead, a tram map of interconnecting concerns.
    Definitely not the time for jokes.
    Jessica continued quickly before he could reply. ‘They’re speculating it was a failed attack on the
    Home Secretary but we’ve got nothing to confirm that. In fact, the few vague witness statements we
    do have say our hoody didn’t go anywhere near the stage. Callaghan was standing in the front row
    with a few other councillors and the attacker dashed across the front of them before disappearing
    across the plaza.’
    ‘So was Callaghan the target?’
    ‘Perhaps. He was on the Internet last night publicising the appearance, so if someone did have it in
    for him, they’d know where he’d be.’
    The door at the back of the room banged open as a slightly dishevelled-looking PC stumbled
    through, arms wrapped around himself, hair limp and flat. ‘It’s bloody freezing out there,’ he said
    through chattering teeth. When he realised he wasn’t talking to a sympathetic audience, he pulled out a
    cardboard folder from inside his jacket. ‘I’ve been told to bring a few things up for you, Ma’am—’
    ‘It’s just Jess.’
    No matter how high she was promoted, Jessica didn’t think she could ever get used to being called
    anything other than her name. At a push, she could live with ‘Inspector’ and would even settle for ‘the
    gobby one’ if it meant not being called ‘Ma’am’ or ‘Guv’. Anything official made her feel even older
    than she was.
    ‘Right, er, Jess . . . we’ve managed to get a shot of the hoody from one of the hotel cameras facing the plaza. It was taken as he was crossing from the tram.’
    Jessica reached out to take the folder. ‘Have you got a face?’
    ‘Not exactly.’
    He wasn’t wrong. If she squinted, Jessica could just about make out the shape of the hooded
    figure’s