‘Gav? We’re going to need backup, so get yourself over to Sharp and bring back a team to help us.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to get a bit closer, and get Mr Webster to show me where this dinghy is.’
‘Sarge, with all due respect, it’d be better to wait. You can’t go on your own.’
She lowered her voice. ‘I’m not letting him get away. I’ll keep my distance. Go – you’ll be less than ten minutes, right?’
He nodded, his face miserable. ‘I still don’t like it, Sarge.’
‘We’re wasting time talking about it. Go!’
She watched as Gavin turned and began to jog away, his gait awkward on the sand, and then turned to Webster.
‘Show me.’
‘It’s over here,’ said Webster. ‘This way.’
For an older man, Webster set a steady pace across the beach away from the lights of the border agency vehicle and into the gloom beyond.
‘Slow down,’ Kay hissed.
‘Sorry,’ said Webster. ‘I guess I’m used to walking along here. I forget you’re not local.’
Kay gestured to him to continue, the roar of the surf obliterating any other noise around her.
As the row of groyne posts came into view, she reached out and placed her hand on Webster’s shoulder.
‘Wait.’
To her right, she could make out the outline of Webster’s cottage across the track from the beach. No lights shone in the windows, and she wondered how often the man found that sleep eluded him and chose to walk the beach at night instead.
‘I can’t see a dinghy.’
He put a finger to his lips. ‘It’s just the other side of the groyne posts,’ he said. ‘And, keep your voice down. Sound travels better near water.’
Kay frowned, unable to believe that anything could be heard over the noise of the wind and surf that was currently battling her ears.
She felt the weight of her mobile phone, safe in its pocket in her stab vest, and wondered whether it was worth the risk to switch it on and send Sharp a text message to let him know that she was within striking distance of the boat that Webster said he had seen. She discarded the thought almost immediately, knowing that if Demiri escaped because he’d seen the light from her mobile phone, she’d never hear the end of it from either Harrison or his superiors.
Gavin was nowhere to be seen.
She felt Webster slip from her grasp.
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you where it is.’
She stumbled after Webster, spray from the surf blinding her temporarily as the wind tugged at her hair.
Webster dropped into a crouch as they drew closer to the groyne posts and beckoned to her.
Silently, she followed him, wondering where Gavin was, but determined that Demiri wouldn’t get away.
She checked over her shoulder again, but still no-one followed in her wake. Turning back, she emitted a surprised cry.
Webster was nowhere in sight.
‘Mr Webster?’
She pushed her hair out of her eyes, then slipped an elastic band off her wrist and tied it back. The old man was nowhere to be seen in the darkness, and her heart skipped a beat.
She edged around the groyne posts, fully expecting to see another dinghy laden with women who had risked everything to cross the English Channel.
Her breath caught in her throat, confusion seizing her.
The beach was empty. She straightened, her thoughts tumbling over one another as she tried to comprehend what was going on. She sensed movement behind her, and spun on her heel a moment before a fist slammed into her face.
As she lay gasping on the soft sand, she raised a shaking hand to her bleeding lip, before a shadow stood over her.
‘Hello, Detective Hunter,’ said Jozef Demiri. ‘I’ve been waiting for you.’
Chapter Fifty-One
Gavin’s boots pummelled the sand, his breath fogging in front of his face as he ran towards the floodlit scene at the far end of the beach.
Already, he regretted leaving Kay behind, but she was his senior officer and her tone had suggested she wasn’t in the mood to debate with him.
He paused, his chest heaving, and glanced over his shoulder.
Kay and Webster were nowhere to be seen, their figures lost to the darkness.
He swore, then took off again, cursing the loose surface under his feet. Although at home by the sea and an avid surfer at any opportunity, he was used to running across it in bare feet, not regulatory lace up boots. The leather uppers and sturdy rubber soles weighed him down, making his footsteps sluggish.
As he drew closer, his eyes scanned the crowd for one of his colleagues.
Two uniformed officers were helping the bedraggled women from the dinghy.
The women were no older than early twenties, their bodies emaciated, the terrified expressions belying their confusion at being arrested instead of escaping to the better life Demiri and his men had no doubt promised.
‘Out of the way.’
An older uniformed officer brushed past him, his hand on a woman’s elbow as he guided her towards one of the waiting vehicles now parked on the track above the beach. As they pushed past, the woman threw a pleading look at Gavin, but he shook his head.
He had to find Sharp, or one of the others, and fast.
He craned his neck over the crowd surrounding the tiny vessel, and finally caught sight of Carys talking to Barnes and their DI as she helped one of the other women out of the boat, keeping hold of her hand while she stumbled onto the sand.
Gavin elbowed his way through the crowd, earning several dirty looks and exclamations of annoyance.
He didn’t care.
‘Sharp! Sir!’ he called as he drew closer.
His voice carried away by the wind and chatter around him, he reached the stern of the dinghy and realised he couldn’t get any closer.
The crowd was too big.
He stuck his forefinger and thumb into his mouth and blew a whistle so loud, the man next to him visibly jumped.
Ignoring his glare, Gavin took advantage of the brief,
