Syn (The Merseyside Crime Series Book 2)

She chuckled. ‘Trailer found empty and should’ve been full of white goods. The cab? My experience tells me it’ll be on its way through Europe by now. Then we’ve a missing person, young woman, if twenty-eight is still considered young. Seeing the boss in ten.’
Detective Inspector April Decent read through the files for the fourth time. She added the name Carla Sharpe to a white board positioned on the wall to her right before tagging in the date and the time she was last seen. She glanced at the clock on the far wall. April had been with the Merseyside Force for just short of five months. Although there was an initial fear and concern that she had made the wrong career choice, she soon discovered her team was equally as efficient as the one she had been part of in Yorkshire. She had formed a particularly strong bond with Skeeter, her sergeant in Serious Crime. Here was a colleague she could rely on and the more she discovered about her, both professionally and personally, the more impressed she was. At that moment she heard the tap on her door.
‘Come in.’
Skeeter popped her head round the door and pushed it open before bending to collect the second mug of coffee from the floor.
‘Brought coffee.’ She raised her eyebrows.
April pointed to the chair. ‘Spitting feathers and ready for one. Thanks. I believe we’ve traced the stolen goods from the trading estate?’
‘Routine stop on the M6 south. Two vans. However, the trailer’s long gone. Passed the details to Tony who tells me Michael will chase up the loose ends when he’s in later. He’ll do all the boring bits, the links with the continent and the border force.’
DC Michael Peet always worked the late shift. It had become a habit that he relished. The station was quiet then and there was more quality time to put the cases into perspective. He could think, apply logic. If it were a puzzle, a conundrum, then he was the man with whom to leave it. His ambition had always been to enter law. He had the academic and mental agility to be a barrister but his partner, falling pregnant in their second year at university, put a stop to that. Originally, it was to be a temporary suspension of ambition but Murphy’s Law was swiftly applied and he found himself with a second and then a third child. As luck would have it, he was now more content than at any previous time in his career. His entry to the force had been to him a retrograde step but those above him in the force had swiftly seen his true potential. He had a clear and full understanding of the law; he was unpretentious and wrestled challenges with determination. Importantly, he was not one to concede. His love for the job was evident.

Chapter 3
His hand worked quickly, scribbling the details of the items of clothing into the note pad, paying particular attention to the colours. To be successful, he had to be precise in all respects to give the overall impression that nothing had changed. The fluorescent coat was easy and even the goggles he could find at any DIY store. They could be re-used should the need arise. Blue trousers and wellington boots, it seemed too easy. The clothing should not be new and if it were, it would be purchased outside the area. He would buy at different times at different shops. He took four more photographs using the zoom to highlight the details. He had no need to leave the car and certainly it would be careless to walk too near. The measurement of height and general size was less important. They were what they were, and he could not change that. Last on the list were three CDs – he would find these at a charity shop. Choosing their titles would make for an interesting game.
A tractor droned some distance away as he looked out across the newly planted field to spot the offending article. There was something relaxing about agricultural toil, something honest. The birds, white against the grey sky, seemed to dance behind the piper. The smell of newly ploughed soil permeated the car and he took a moment to savour the peace before turning to concentrate on the booklet he had retrieved from the glovebox. His fingers flicked over the pages one at a time. Each held a photograph. There were five. The candid images were slightly blurred, screen captures from the video he had taken, but they were clear enough. They had, after all, returned repeatedly night after night in his dream. They were as familiar as family. He remembered each with a certain clarity. Three were male, two were female. What tied each to the next? Each one had been captured staring at the camera but it was clear from their expression that they were unaware that they had been snapped. This was all part of the game.
The dashboard clock showed 6.56am. It was time to leave. He had work to do.
Tracking the man had been easy. Watching the group’s familiarity with one of the bar staff had been convincing enough and once they had left; he had managed a quiet word. Pretending he knew their faces yet being unable to recall their names had brought the answers he needed: Cameron Jennings and Bill Rodgers. He could visualise both but Bill’s features filled his mind. He was the one of the pair who would wait. It was Cameron, the person on the outside of the group, the shorter of the two, he wanted to focus on for now. Facebook was the next call and sure enough with that one search he had the group. They were all friends. Finding the place of work for one came as an additional bonus; he had not expected to be so lucky. A female too, Carla Sharpe, was the perfect way to begin.
He could not remember seeing