mine.’ He glanced back at Flynn and the body at his feet and swore.
From that point in the night, after Henry had made ‘the’ phone call — the treble-nine — and had to deal with a succession of fairly unhelpful people before he ended up losing it and bawling down the line, he and Flynn just allowed things to happen.
The first police to arrive on the scene came in the shape of a double-crewed traffic car, two very experienced cops experienced in dealing with serious situations, protecting scenes (usually just car crashes) and handling victims and witnesses. They soon had the road closed, a big accident investigation van on the way (with mobile scene lighting), diversions in place; next came the paramedics, who tended to Henry and Flynn and realized there was nothing they could do for the other man, who by that time had been dragged out of the stream and laid to rest on the bank, his head grotesquely askew.
More uniforms arrived from Lancaster and scene management was taken over by the local inspector for the time being.
DI Barlow turned up with a DC in tow… and then decisions had to be made about what best to do with Henry and Flynn.
Both certainly needed medical treatment — again. Flynn’s gashed head bled openly and profusely and needed stitching properly.
Henry took a step back so as not to influence anything. He just helped and waited for the decisions to be made, which came from Barlow as he was the most senior detective on the scene until others arrived and there was a lot of responsibility resting on his shoulders. He took Henry to one side.
Henry was wrapped in a blanket from the back of the traffic car, as was Flynn. He told Barlow what had happened and why it ended up as it did… and weight was added to his retelling of events when a PNC check revealed that the Range Rover was in fact stolen and was on false plates.
‘Look,’ Barlow said, strained, ‘I don’t disbelieve a single word, Henry, but the fact remains there’s a dead man down there.’ He pointed to the stream. ‘And he’s been killed in a fight.’
‘Self-defence,’ Henry said. ‘I was part of it.’
‘I know, I know…’
‘But?’
‘What would you do?’
‘Go through the motions. Put us through the meat grinder. No choice,’ Henry said. ‘No matter who is involved.’
Barlow nodded, looked relieved. ‘I want to keep you and Mr Flynn separate.’
Henry’s mouth twitched sardonically. ‘So we can’t get our stories straight?’
‘Something like that… you know the score,’ Barlow said. ‘That in mind I’m going to get you taken to A amp;E in a cop car, and Flynn in an ambulance, then keep you apart at the hospital. Once you’ve been treated, I’ll have you brought to Lancaster nick separately.’
‘Under arrest?’
‘What do you think, Henry? Please don’t make this any harder than it has to be.’
‘I won’t. I’d do the same.’
Barlow looked at Henry closely. ‘What’s this all about?’ he asked.
‘Dunno just yet.’
‘Yeah, right,’ Barlow sneered.
Henry glanced over at Flynn, who was in the back of the ambulance being treated once again by the pretty lady paramedic who had dabbed his wounds following the explosion on the canal boat, looking deep into his eyes as she tended him.
It was a long, tiring night. The two men were kept apart, as Barlow said, and given forensic suits to replace their own clothing. They were booked respectfully into the custody system and placed in cells at opposite ends of the complex so they couldn’t shout to each other.
Neither elected to speak to a solicitor.
They were interviewed under caution and on tape, a process that took most of the rest of the night. By dawn it was clear that their recollections tallied, almost word for word.
Following this they were released from custody without bail.
‘Yeah, that was great fun,’ Henry said to Flynn. Flynn merely arched his eyebrows. They were outside the police station in the chilly dawn with Alison. ‘This won’t go anywhere,’ he assured Flynn. ‘The CPS will see what has happened.
‘Two deaths in two days,’ Flynn stated and pouted. ‘Doesn’t look good for me.’
‘Just a bad run of luck.’
‘A run of bad luck is when your car doesn’t start then a light bulb goes.’
‘Let’s just get some sleep,’ Henry suggested, ‘then reconvene and start digging and find out what this is all about.’
‘Yeah, good idea… but I won’t burden you tonight,’ Flynn said.
‘What do you mean? You’re very welcome to stay at the Owl, you know that,’ Alison said sharply.
‘I need some TLC,’ Flynn grinned and touched his still weeping wound.
‘I used to be a nurse.’
‘I know — but you’ve already got a very demanding patient.’ He nodded at the battered little Citroen that was pulling up on the road outside the police station. Henry peered at the driver and saw it was the paramedic who had treated Flynn.
‘Ahh,’ Henry said knowingly.
‘Apparently she has a flat down on St George’s Quay.’
‘Nice position.’
‘Yeah — overlooking the River Lune.’
‘Yeah,’ Henry said, his memory jarring at the mention of the river.
‘So — thanks anyway,’ Flynn said to Alison, ‘but needs must. I’ll get my head down for an hour or two,’ his eyebrows rose and fell in a ‘wink-wink’ way, ‘then I really need to go and open the shop in Glasson. I haven’t done a great job there, so far… and that’s where I’ll be if the cops want me.’
‘Don’t frighten the customers.’ Henry extended his right hand and the two men shook. Alison kissed Flynn on the cheek and he walked across to the car as the paramedic leaned over and opened the passenger door for him. Flynn dropped into the seat and the car sped off.
Henry and Alison watched it turn right onto the main road, then Henry emitted a long sigh. He turned to Alison, saw the worry on her face and steeled himself for what he was about to say.
‘I know there’s never a right time and place for this, but if you want out, I won’t blame you.’
Astonished, she said, ‘Out of what, exactly?’
‘Us… me, you… you know.’
‘Why are you saying that?’
‘All this shit, all this worry. The job. Coppering, y’know. It rules my life, always has and always will as long as I’m in it. And that’s a big mistake, one of many I made with Kate. I don’t want to make it again.’
‘Well don’t then.’ Her voice was like granite.
There was silence between them. Both swallowed drily.
‘Trouble is, I love you,’ Henry admitted.
Alison’s face quivered, her bottom lip tightening. ‘And I love you — so that’s settled then. Being a cop may rule your life, but that’s not what living’s about. That’s about us, you and me, and what we make of what we’ve got and what we’ll have in the future. And I don’t know about you, buddy,’ she poked him in the chest, ‘but I’m bloody well looking forward to it!’
As much as he could, in spite of the swollen face and all the additional cuts and scrapes, Henry’s face softened. ‘Me too,’ he admitted.
Alison shrugged an ‘I told you so’ shrug.
‘And I need my bed.’
St George’s Quay was only minutes away from Lancaster nick, at the bottom of the city, by the River Lune.
The lady paramedic, whose name was Liz, drove Flynn down and parked in a reserved bay behind an old
