Condemned, R.C. Bridgestock [most romantic novels TXT] 📗

for the Dixons because of this, we presume for some sort of retribution. Hussain was by no means an angel. A drug dealer who carried a weapon. His weapon has not been recovered. His was the body we discovered behind the fireplace at Crownest and he had been fatally shot in the head. The weapon causing this fatality was discovered taped under the bonnet of the Dixons’ motorhome. We know the rest. Brad Dixon says in interview it was Raglan who pulled the trigger, not him, and then all of them, including James Thomas hid his body. He tells us also that Raglan is addicted to cocaine, and that he launders money in connection to drugs and property through the estate agency. Dixon states that he paid no rent for Crownest because he kept Raglan supplied with his preferred drug, as that was the deal. After what happened with Hussain, Dixon sold the car to someone he doesn’t wish to tell us about, and threw Hussain’s gun into the sea. He claims the piece was an imitation, which intelligence suggests is highly unlikely. That’s it so far, in a nutshell. Our aim tomorrow is to arrest both remaining targets, Thomas and Raglan, and search their homes, and other related premieres, to secure evidence against them both prior to subsequent interviews.

Exhausted, but fitful, sleep didn’t come easy that night for Charley.

At six-fifteen the following morning, the convoy set off. When they left the confines of the vault of the police station, which doubled-up as a garage where some of the vehicles had been parked overnight, it was pitch black outside. Charley could tell the team were excited at the prospect of closing the case. The arrest stage was the icing on the cake to any investigation.

Charley headed to the Control Room so she could listen in to both arrests simultaneously, and be available for any enquiries or decisions that needed to be made quickly. It also gave an overview as to what was happening at each address.

‘Penny for them?’ said Tattie when Charley sat down next to her. She handed her a mug of coffee.

‘I hate being here, and not there in the thick of it,’ she said. Charley was aware that her own adrenalin levels were as high as that of the team. ‘I love to see the reaction on their faces when they’re surprised by an officer waking them up.’

‘Well, look on the bright side, they’ll all be wearing body cams so you can watch it later,’ said Tattie, nonchalantly.

There were three boxes of biscuits piled up on the chair to her side. Tattie gave one to Charley. ‘Here, have this,’ she said.

Charley chuckled. ‘Oh, no, I couldn’t. I know there is someone more important that you’d like to give them to.’

Tattie shook her head. ‘No, there isn’t. I overheard Ben and Terry talking last night…’ Her voice lowered to a whisper. ‘Did you know Tim is divorcing his fourth wife?’ She shuffled her crossed arms under her ample bosom. ‘He’ll be looking for someone to look after him, but that’s not me. It’s the last time I’ll be baking him biscuits; I’m not about to become his fifth!’

Charley tittered despite her anxiety. ‘Obviously he’s one of life’s charmers, Tattie.’

‘He’ll be doing it without my biscuits; I’ve got the measure of him. I know what rules him and it’s not his head, or stomach!’

The teams were now on the road heading to the addresses of their separate targets. Charley stood and walked backwards and forwards, waiting for one of the team on the ground to break the silence.

‘Target One, James Thomas, arrested,’ came the welcome news over the radio.

Chapter 39

The minutes seemed like hours to Charley since she’d heard of the first arrest over the dedicated radio channel. She wanted to know and hear more. It was like wearing a blindfold. She schooled herself to be patient and fought to remain calm. She thought of previous raids to distract herself during the lull in action: the sound of colleagues, wearing boots with steel-toed caps rushing up the stairs in front and behind her, pounded in her head, and at the same time threatened to deafen her, ‘On the floor! On the floor! Let me see your hands! Get down!’ came the shouts of her colleagues. Charley knew the drill well. She tried hard to shake her head clear, and tried to concentrate on the present, when suddenly the radio silence broke.

‘Target Two, Raglan, under arrest, and being removed from the premises, ma’am.’

Further information was passed to the Control Room. ‘He appears to be under the influence of drugs. Team Two deployed, with keys, for work premises on the high street, the estate agency.’

Charley imagined the scene. Those arrested being escorted to the waiting marked police vehicles to be transported to the cells, the hand of the police officer being placed on top of the prisoners’ heads as they climbed carefully, with their hands cuffed behind their backs, into the rear of the car. ‘Mind your head, we don’t want you to hurt yourself, do we?’ she would say.

As the prisoners left, Charley could visualise the search teams going in to the designated site, each one of the specialist team chomping at the bit to start emptying drawers and cupboards, searching for anything that could connect the prisoner to the crime, to help secure a conviction. At the thought, Charley’s fists clenched around the handle of her empty mug so tightly that her knuckles turned white. It was a waiting game for her, a waiting game to see what was recovered from the premises.

Charley walked down the police station steps alone. From one floor to the next, she didn’t see a soul, until she reached the basement level and the custody suite. At the secure gated access, she called for the door release, and waited patiently for the CCTV camera pointing at the door to be checked. On entry she was met by single line of closed