Chapter 48

Chapter 48

The atmosphere was hushed and tense. Fighting off the tiredness that threatened to overwhelm her, Charlie stared straight ahead, her eyes scanning the horizon, ignoring the truculent presence next to her. Perhaps it was foolish to insist that Jennings accompany her once again this morning, knowing how mistrustful he was of the whole enterprise, how little faith he had in her personally. Yet he had been part of the team that had lost their prime suspect and she was damned if she was going to reward her graceless colleague by liberating him to return to the Freemantle shooting. He was stuck with her now.

Jennings remained hunched in the passenger seat, his body angled away from her, his eyes glued to the street. He would insist he was just being diligent, searching for the fugitive, but Charlie knew he was sulking, determined to make their time together as uncomfortable as possible. Charlie tried to ignore him, as he was ultimately harming no one but himself, yet as the minutes crawled by without incident, Charlie felt her irritation growing. It was one thing to be stuck with a truculent colleague, it was another thing to be locked together in a fruitless endeavour.

They had been searching for Ryan Marwood since first light, one of four crews currently scouring the streets for the missing fugitive. At first, Charlie had been terrified that Marwood had fled the family home in order to offend once more, but the discovery late last night of his abandoned Renault Movano van in thick woodland near the city pound suggested to her that he was now intent on escape, putting as much distance between himself and his past offending as possible. This was an equally alarming prospect. If he made it beyond their jurisdiction, there was no telling how long it might take to bring Marwood to justice. The imperative now was to find him – and fast.

Frustrated, Charlie snatched up the radio, finally breaking the silence.

‘DC Reid, come in, over?'

‘Hearing you loud and clear, over,' came the disembodied reply.

‘Any sign of movement at the Marwood home?' Charlie continued, more in hope than expectation.

‘Nothing doing. Got people in the house, in the garden, out front. He won't be coming back here if he knows what's good for him, over.'

Signing off, Charlie swiftly contacted the other teams, who were positioned at the train station and ferry ports, but they too had nothing to report. What was Marwood up to? What was his plan? He was high and dry, with little in the way of resources or allies, even his own mother having now turned against him. Would he hunker down, try to disappear from view, until the manhunt eased? Or would he make a break for it today, now ?

Charlie strongly suspected the latter. Southampton was an unforgiving city and he could certainly not count on a warm welcome amongst its growing homeless population or its criminal underbelly. In those communities, well-known offenders, those who might attract a heavy police presence, were shunned. Once word got out that the police were seeking him, with beat officers combing the streets, life would get even harder for Marwood, any sharp-eyed rogue worth his salt appreciating the potential for gain by betraying him to the authorities. No, if he was smart, Ryan Marwood would get out of town as fast as he could.

Travelling by conventional means would lay him open to arrest, so surely he would try to sneak away from the city, unseen and unheralded? He could hitch his way out along one of the main arteries, hence why they'd doubled traffic patrols on the major roads. He could jump aboard one of the many freight trains that passed through the city, which was why CID had been deployed to various sites along the line. Or he could use the ports, either to hop on board a ship bound for sunnier climes or to secrete himself on a cargo lorry heading to London. DC McAndrew was currently portside with a couple of colleagues, leaving Charlie and Jennings as the sole remaining members of the unit driving the lonely back streets that flanked the Western Docks.

Theory was one thing, however, reality something else entirely. It was already pushing eleven o'clock; they'd been driving the city streets for over four hours now and the only excitement they'd seen so far was a seagull stealing a hipster's breakfast burrito. Jennings had enjoyed that – he was not part of the woke generation, enjoying any misfortune that befell a bloke with a top knot – but the amusement value of this was long since exhausted, her colleague looking as grumpy and hopeless as Charlie.

‘We'll give it another thirty minutes. If he hasn't shown himself by then, we'll head back to base, review our strategy.'

Jennings nodded slowly but said nothing, as if even that modest movement was too much trouble for him. Shaking her head, Charlie resumed her task, keeping a close eye on the pedestrians making their way to and from the docks. But the human traffic seemed utterly unremarkable – a vaping dockworker, a hooded low-life, a Big Issue seller, a couple of sex workers making their way home.

‘There!'

The word exploded from Jennings' mouth, making Charlie jump. Slowing the car instantly, she turned to her colleague.

‘What?'

‘The guy in the dark trackies, the hoodie. I'm sure that's what Marwood was wearing last night.'

Bringing the car to a halt, Charlie stared at the retreating figure in the rearview. She had dismissed the figure as a druggie heading home after a wild night, but now, as she watched his progress, she noted how fast the hooded figure was travelling and how he kept darting furtive looks around him.

‘Got to be worth a look …' she muttered, swinging the car round in one fluid move.

They glided along the street towards the retreating figure. He had a head start on them, but they soon made up the distance, shadowing his progress on the opposite side of the street. The figure paid them no heed, however, keeping his eyes to the floor, marching onward.

‘Give the siren a blast, see what he does …'

Without hesitation, Jennings obliged, giving a short, sharp burst. The sound bounced off the dock's brick perimeter, startling everyone present. But no one looked up more sharply than the figure in the blue tracksuit, turning his face to the offending vehicle. Immediately, Charlie clocked his haunted expression, his anguished alarm, those familiar features.

It was Ryan Marwood.