Читать книгу: «The Recovery Assignment»

CHAPTER ONE

THE picture was a long way from being pretty.

Travelling too fast to negotiate the bend in the road, the late-model, four-wheel-drive’s left front wheel had left the tarmac and touched the loose shingle on the verge. A hard jerk to the right on the steering-wheel had over-corrected the error and the vehicle had begun to yaw, slipping sideways whilst still hurtling forward. The height and weight of the model had contributed to the disaster and the vehicle had tipped and then rolled. It had flipped once…twice…three times before slamming to a halt against a tree. The image was a violent one of a scarred landscape, twisted metal and potentially fatal injuries to those unfortunate enough to be inside the vehicle.

‘A local resident heard the impact and went to investigate.’ Senior Constable Owen Hawkins turned his gaze away from the image being projected onto the large screen. ‘He then dialled triple-one and alerted the emergency services.’

Representatives of two arms of those emergency services, fire and ambulance, were listening intently to Officer Hawkins.

‘The information given to the regional control centre was enough to activate the police department’s Serious Crash Squad, i.e. myself and my partner, Cam.’

Ex-partner. Hawk still couldn’t believe that such a tight team could have been ripped apart so easily. It hadn’t been entirely her fault, of course, but it was easy to assign blame when one’s life was getting mucked around with to this extent. Having someone other than his best mate to direct his frustration at had helped him cope over the last week or two, but right now it wasn’t going to aid his current brief of improving the liaison between the SCS and other emergency services.

‘What makes this a serious crash?’ Owen Hawkins threw the question into the group of a dozen or so fire officers and paramedics without targeting anyone in particular.

‘Vehicular rollover,’ a male paramedic offered.

‘Trapped occupants,’ a fire officer added.

‘High-speed impact.’ The suggestion came from the only female present in the room, and Hawk was forced to acknowledge her in the brief silence that followed.

‘How can you determine the speed?’ He hadn’t meant his tone to be quite so challenging. He didn’t have anything against female paramedics. He didn’t have anything against women in general. Hell, he liked women. It was just their capacity to turn lives upside down that he didn’t trust. He’d got his life just the way he wanted it, thanks very much, and now—thanks to one, no, two women, the wheels were falling off in a big way.

‘It’s a rural road,’ the woman responded. ‘With an open-road speed limit. The vehicle was also travelling downhill into the bend.’

‘Doesn’t mean he hadn’t slowed down.’ Hawk stared back at the rather mousy-looking, bespectacled paramedic. She had a sweet smile so he didn’t need to worry if he was coming across as being intimidating here: one of the men present would leap in to rescue her any second now.

To his surprise, however, the paramedic was not so easily silenced.

‘The vehicle has a deformity greater than half a metre. There is compartment intrusion of more than thirty centimetres thanks to that tree crushing the driver’s door. The front windscreen has a star pattern that was probably made by the driver’s head. I’d be very surprised if he survived. And if he hasn’t, that makes the potential for serious injury to his passenger that much higher. Any accident involving death or major injury is serious.’

‘Go, Laura!’ More than one fire officer was grinning broadly.

‘You’d better watch out,’ someone quipped. ‘She’ll be doing your job for you next, mate.’

Hawk’s smile failed to reach his eyes as he tilted his head to acknowledge both the impressive response to his challenge and the friendly warning. The fire officer couldn’t possibly realise that he had just reinforced Hawk’s simmering discontent by reminding him of what was due to happen tomorrow. He turned away, wishing he was back in his own office. Or out on the road, investigating a crash scene. Or following up a complicated line of enquiry. Anywhere he could distract himself from the unwelcome turns he was being forced to accept in his professional life. He pushed the button he held and another image appeared on the screen.

‘The driver was killed instantly,’ Hawk confirmed. ‘And the front-seat passenger sustained severe chest and spinal injuries. There doesn’t have to be a fatality before we’re called in to investigate, however. As Laura said, any crash involving major injuries is serious. If the death of anyone involved occurs within twenty-eight days of the incident, then it becomes a fatal crash investigation.’

He waved at the scene now projected on the wall. The road was cordoned off by bright orange plastic cones. Police cars flanked the area that contained the wrecked vehicle, three fire appliances and two ambulances. Numerous uniformed officers could be seen at work.

‘Who arrived on the scene first?’ Hawk queried.

‘Probably us,’ a fire officer responded. ‘We’re quick off the mark around here.’

‘Only if you’re awake.’ The male paramedic grinned. He glanced at Hawk. ‘It depends on current deployment of resources. Sometimes a tow truck can get to a scene before any emergency vehicles.’

‘Bloody sharks,’ someone muttered. ‘Eavesdropping on our radio frequencies to tout for business.’

Hawk ignored the comment, though he could sympathise with the sentiment. ‘In this case, the police were first to arrive with a response time of four minutes and they were able to secure the scene. The first fire truck arrived at six minutes, closely followed by an ambulance. I arrived on scene eight minutes after the call was received.’

New images appeared more rapidly. Pictures of the vehicle and the debris scattered over a long stretch of tarmac. Heavy cutting equipment being used by fire officers to extricate the victims and paramedics working to stabilise the injured passenger.

‘It’s imperative that both the fire and ambulance services have unrestricted access to a crash scene. The preservation of life and safety for everyone involved takes immediate priority but this does make my job more complicated because it’s inevitable that a lot of evidence gets disturbed or destroyed.’

Hawk let his gaze travel right around the room. ‘That’s why I’m here. We’re all part of an overall team and the more we understand each other’s jobs, the more we can work to help rather than hinder each other.’

A senior fire officer nodded. ‘We have the advantage in being a peripheral city fire station. Having fire and ambulance working from the same base has made a real difference in how we work together.’

The male paramedic mirrored the nod. ‘We can tell these guys exactly what we need to get access to our patient or how we want the extrication done, and they’re in there securing the vehicle or cutting the right bit from the chassis. Saving time can save lives.’

‘Exactly. And if you know what we’re looking for and how we work, we can save time, do our jobs better and hopefully make a contribution to general road safety. So, what is it that we do?’

The projected image was now in written form. ‘There are three main threads to our investigations. The vehicle, the driver and the environment. It’s helpful if we can get to a scene quickly. That way we can document road factors like traffic and weather conditions. A lot of the debris is still in place and we can talk to any witnesses or uninjured people that may have been involved. The first things said at a scene are the most likely to be factual. Victims who do not wish to appear at fault may well construct a different story later.’

‘Should we be taking notes about anything said to us?’

‘That’s not part of your job,’ Hawk told the male paramedic. ‘And I wouldn’t expect you to do anything that could interfere with your own protocols, but if you remember something that comes up in an interview we might have later, that’s great. Same goes for impressions like the smell of alcohol or the mental state of those involved. You guys have a lot more experience than us in dealing with the kind of reactions people have to traumatic situations. If something seems odd to you, we’d like to know about it. On or off the record.’

‘We get advice about what to do at a potential murder scene,’ the paramedic, Laura, said. ‘Like disturbing evidence as little as possible. What can we do to minimise destroying any evidence the SCS needs?’

‘If you need to move something to assist a victim, do it,’ Hawk responded. ‘We’d just like to know about it. If you have to break windows, unlock doors or turn ignition keys off, do it but let us know.’

‘What about safety belts?’ a fire officer queried. ‘Is it OK to cut them?’

Hawk nodded. ‘In fact, it’s better to cut them and leave the clip in place than to unclip it and not have that recorded. That way, we can be sure that they were wearing a seat belt.’

‘Sometimes we’re moving vehicle parts that we’ve cut. Or cargo that’s come off a truck. Is that a problem?’

‘The more that gets changed, the less of a full picture we’re going to be able to put together,’ Hawk responded. ‘If we get told about the changes, we can factor them in.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Sometimes small things can make a huge difference. Like a pedestrian versus car scenario, for example. When a vehicle hits a person, they’ll often lose a pair of glasses or a hat or handbag or something. The point at which that object falls is often the best indication of the point of impact. Some well-meaning person might pick the item up to give it back to the victim or tidy up a scene and that can make it impossible to be sure exactly where the victim was standing. And that could make the difference between the accident being the fault of the victim or the driver.’

Hawk’s face was serious as he let his gaze rest on Laura. She stared back and Hawk had the uncomfortable feeling that he was being evaluated for more than the content of his talk. He could feel some of the warmth leach out of his tone. ‘Fatal accidents can become court cases for manslaughter. A car is just as much of a lethal weapon as a gun in the wrong hands. Even small pieces of evidence can become of vital importance.’

His audience was clearly impressed, with the exception of Laura who was looking as though he had just scored another black mark on some personal score sheet. Hawk shrugged mentally and moved on, his tone now impersonal as he changed the image on the screen again.

‘What specifically are we looking for from the environment?’ He ran through a series of close-up photographs of tyre marks on road surfaces. ‘These can all tell their own story,’ he commented. ‘A yaw mark is a skid in a large arc and you’ll see these distinctive cross-marked tread patterns or striations. An acceleration scuff will have scrape marks in the opposite direction to travel whereas braking will give you scuffing in the same direction as travel.

‘Gouge marks, like this…’ Hawk pointed to the crescent shape carved into tarmac ‘…indicate the point of contact during a vehicle rollover. The mark occurs as the wheel rim hits the road. In this one—’ the crescent mark had a perfect circle close by ‘—the circle has been made by the central hub of the wheel during the final rollover.’

The next picture looked as though someone had emptied a rubbish container along a stretch of road. Papers, beer cans, broken glass, items of clothing and children’s toys were strewn over a surprisingly large area.

‘Debris scatter indicates the direction of travel of a vehicle and, potentially, its speed,’ Hawk told them.

He reached into a cardboard carton at his feet a few minutes later. The presentation was going smoothly and he was looking forward to finishing. He really wasn’t in the mood for liaison duties and that in itself was annoying. This kind of job had been a favourite when he and Cam had made it a joint effort. They could kick back and enjoy a semi-social occasion with their colleagues from complementary emergency services. There’d be jokes and laughter and maybe a beer or two at a local pub afterwards. If Laura had been scowling suspiciously at Cam he would have charmed her into appreciation pretty fast and it would have given the partners a moment of shared amusement later.

But those days were gone. As far as Hawk was concerned he was going solo now. He might be about to have a new partner foisted on him but that didn’t change anything. Cam was irreplaceable. They had worked—and played—as two halves of a whole. No one was going to step into that position easily. The notion that a female officer could replace what he’d had with Cam was about as likely as hell freezing over.

The item Hawk was now handing out to the group was an example of the kind of evidence they collected from the vehicles involved in a serious crash.

‘Look at the speedometer,’ he instructed. ‘Sometimes, with a high-energy impact, the speedo will become locked at the speed at which the vehicle was travelling. This one didn’t but if you look closely you might notice something.’

The dial was being carefully scrutinised by none other than Laura. ‘There’s a little mark,’ she observed. ‘At 190 kph.’

Hawk nodded. ‘A needle tap,’ he confirmed. ‘And another accurate indication of the vehicle’s speed.’

A collective whistle came from the group.

‘Didn’t come from your car, did it, Cliff?’ a fire officer called. ‘That time we were at the pub and you realised you’d forgotten your wedding anniversary and had three minutes to get home?’

‘Nah.’ Cliff shook his head ruefully. ‘I was late, man. Took me a month to get out of the dog box.’

‘And another week to get back in.’ A tall, blond fireman, who looked like an ex-surfer, was grinning broadly. ‘That’s marriage for you.’

Hawk joined in the laughter despite, or perhaps because of, Laura’s faintly disapproving expression. He agreed with the sentiment wholeheartedly, anyway. Not that he had anything against female companionship. He never left too long a gap between his relationships, but he had it all worked out now and he knew precisely when it was time to call it quits. The first hint that the relationship was interfering with his own life or work was an alarm bell he never ignored.

Why the hell hadn’t Cam recognised those signals? They’d talked about it often enough. They’d watched their friends and colleagues move in and out of serious relationships. The fact that they’d both been burnt in the past had made them an ideal team to help pick up the emotional pieces when it all went to custard—as it invariably did. They had congratulated themselves on keeping their own lives in order in that department. They’d had it all. Great careers, a partnership that had only increased in strength over the years they had been together, an ability to attract female companionship whenever they’d felt the need and, more importantly, the wisdom to hear those alarm bells and act on them.

Hawk had tried to warn him that time he’d called off a night at the rifle range to take Cassie out.

‘She’s interfering, mate,’ he’d said sadly. ‘If you don’t watch out you’ll be up to your eyeballs in nappies and mortgages.’

And Cam had laughed. ‘Just wait.’ He’d grinned. ‘One of these days you’ll fall in love again and then you’ll change your tune.’

‘You’ve been “in love” before, too. You know as well as I do that it never lasts.’

‘This is different,’ Cam had insisted. ‘This is the real thing, Hawk.’

As if. Hawk had learnt the hard way that falling in love was an illusion. Just out-of-control hormones, and Hawk never let himself lose control of anything to that extent any more. Hadn’t done for years now. No. The hormones wore off and there you were, saddled with responsibilities that changed your life. They ruined spontaneity, kept you poor and made you settle for security instead of excitement.

He’d seen people cut their careers off at the knees in order to stay put and cruise. Their energy got sucked into dealing with those responsibilities and often it wasn’t until they escaped that ambition resurfaced. They got distracted, slowed down and occasionally even broken. It wasn’t going to happen to Owen Hawkins.

Not in a million years.

‘Take a look at these bulbs.’ Hawk pulled another item from the box and stepped towards the fire officers as the laughter faded. ‘When a light’s on and the filament is hot at point of impact, you’ll get that kind of distortion. Great physical evidence.’

The tall, blond fireman was still smiling as he reached out to take the bulb. A corner of Hawk’s mouth curved slightly. He could bet the fireman wasn’t married. He looked far too happy. And Hawk hadn’t missed the way Laura’s gaze had veered at the sound of his laughter. She did have a lovely smile and she looked…homely was the best word Hawk could come up with. Comfortable, maybe. Honest, anyway. She wasn’t the type to adopt a flashy image and pretend she wanted nothing more than a good time, only to start sinking emotional claws into her male companion. Manipulating unsuspecting guys into losing control and then taking over their lives and futures.

‘The position of the switches must be important.’

‘Sorry?’ Hawk was jerked back from the now familiar, but definitely unfair, line of thought. He couldn’t blame Cassie. It had been Cam’s choice and he had jumped more than willingly.

‘For the lights and so forth,’ the fire officer expanded. ‘We should keep that in mind when we’re crawling around inside cars. We probably turn things off by leaning on them without even noticing.’

‘You don’t even have to lean to turn things off, Stick,’ someone quipped. ‘Isn’t that right, Laura?’

Laura laughed but flushed slightly.

‘Stick?’ Hawk raised an eyebrow at the solid figure now handling the row of light bulbs mounted on the narrow wooden board.

‘He got hit with an ugly one,’ his companion explained.

‘Oh.’ Had Laura rejected an advance, maybe? Not that he was remotely interested but at least a relationship between people working from the same base was reasonable. Hell, even living in the same country seemed reasonable now. If Cam had to allow his brains to get addled by a woman to that extent, why did he have to choose one that lived on the other side of the world? And why didn’t she move permanently to New Zealand instead of expecting Cam to follow her home to the States like some lovesick puppy?

Hawk knew why. It was all part of the manipulation that came so naturally to the female of the species. It wasn’t evil. They probably didn’t even know they were doing it half the time, but the effect was the same. It was a take-over bid. The undermining of a man’s independence and self-esteem. They got you right where they wanted you…and then what? ‘Sorry, buddy, but I’ve changed my mind.’ Or, ‘I’ve found someone better than you.’

Cassie had better not treat Cam that badly. Sure, she had looked as besotted as Cam but she’d been married before, and that hadn’t lasted long, had it? Cam had been married before as well. They should both have known better. Still, the fact that Cam was being uprooted to such an extent might even be the saving of his mate. He’d realise what he was giving up, get over the infatuation and come back. The desertion of his career and the principles on relationships they had espoused so enthusiastically in recent years was probably only temporary.

And that gave him the perfect excuse not to allow any fill-in partner to interfere or gain too much of a foothold in his department. She was going to be totally unsuitable and Cam would be welcomed back in a month or two. Hawk just had to grit his teeth and put up with it. He could do that. In fact, now that he was confident it was only temporary, it didn’t seem that bad any more.

Hawk finished his session by fielding questions.

‘How much time do you guys have to spend in court?’

‘Quite a bit,’ Hawk responded. ‘Some cases can drag on if someone’s lost their licence or their livelihood by being blamed for an accident. Or if an insurance company won’t pay up or a family is determined to clear someone’s name.’

‘Who does the detective work?’

‘We can end up doing quite a lot of it,’ Hawk said. ‘We visit the scene and mark evidence and take photographs and measurements. We oversee the vehicle inspection and call in any experts we might need for an opinion on, say, tyres or mechanical faults. And we conduct interviews.’

‘Who with?’

‘The driver or passengers. We might liaise with the hospital initially until we can talk to them. We talk to families and friends, witnesses and often a lot of other people. A GP might be interviewed if the driver had a medical condition. A mechanic could be asked for input if the vehicle had had any recent repairs. We’ll often talk to members of the fire and ambulance services, especially if we’re having any problems reconstructing a scene. That’s where noting things that were moved or damaged during the incident becomes important. As do your unbiased views of what you saw. We respect your roles and value your input.’

Hawk smiled. His mood was lifting steadily now and a glance at his watch told him it was time to head home. A new watch would be clocking in at Inglewood station at 6 p.m. and he could see the first arrivals manoeuvring in the car park outside. A session in the pub with some of these guys could be just what he needed. It didn’t have to be a male-only session either. He didn’t mind at all if Laura came along. She was clearly a popular member of this group. One of the boys, probably, and no threat to anyone, either professionally or personally. Hawk could only hope that his new temporary partner would be from the same career-oriented mould with little interest in accentuating her femininity.

With a bit of luck she might even be built like the back of a brick outhouse and have a slight problem with facial hair. Hawk picked up the board of light bulbs and fitted them inside the box with a sigh. No, that thought was even more unappealing than having to contend with a willowy Barbie clone who couldn’t possibly inspire any professional respect. He just didn’t want to work with a female, dammit!

He didn’t want to work with another guy either. His previous partner had been a guy. Perfectly competent as far as the job went but the lack of anything in common on a personal level had kept them purely colleagues. And even that had fallen apart when he’d discovered what a jerk the guy had been in his private life. Nobody could abuse and abandon a wife and kids in favour of an affair with a bimbo half his age and remain acceptable on any level.

No. He didn’t want a new partner—of either gender. He wanted Cam back. His mate. Someone he could bounce ideas around with and know that the input from both sides carried equal weight in terms of experience and intelligence. Someone who understood the attraction of blondes, both willowy and curvaceous, and would empathise with the kind of hassles that took periodical sorting out when the current choice needed replacing. Someone who could smash a squash ball, fire a gun or down a few pints in front of a rugby game when time out was needed.

Hawk’s response to the thanks from various members of his audience was a trifle perfunctory. The Cam he knew was gone. His mates—possibly even his career—had been dumped in favour of a short, bouncy redhead who never drank beer, hated guns and couldn’t understand the rules of rugby.

‘The talk was great. I learned a lot.’

‘You’re welcome.’ Hawk looked up from shutting down the projector and nodded at Laura. ‘The more we know about how each other works, the more we can help each other.’

‘Maybe you should come out on the road with us sometime, then.’

His glance was more deliberate this time but he relaxed when he decided this wasn’t some kind of a come-on. Laura looked like a nice person but she was definitely not his type. She was several inches too short, way too…solid and her hair was dead mouse. He could work with someone like her, though. She looked intelligent. Or was that just the impression the spectacles bestowed? Hawk was annoyed at himself at even making such a judgement. He had been doing it for days now, with every stranger he met—especially women. What would she be like to work with? What would his new partner be like? It wasn’t that he was nervous about it. It was the sheer inconvenience of having to go through that learning curve. Trying to adapt to someone else’s methods and having the job done far less efficiently because mindsets were too disparate. That was what bothered him most about trying to work with a female officer. How could they possibly be on the same wavelength, the way he and Cam had been? Hawk’s foul mood settled over him again like a wet blanket.

‘Good idea,’ he said dismissively. ‘But impractical. With a two-person unit we’re basically on call on a permanent basis, and I’m currently working on my own anyway.’

‘You’re based at the Grisham Road station, aren’t you? Covering the north and east sectors?’

‘That’s correct.’ Hawk was almost packed up now. The flow of men around them was increasing as the shift changed. He was ready to leave and no one had suggested a quick drink. Unless that was what Laura was leading up to. Hawk’s gaze flicked over the paramedic almost involuntarily. No chance—especially in his current mood. Glancing back to her face, Hawk was surprised to see the hint of a smile. If the message had been received, the interpretation certainly hadn’t caused her any distress.

‘Maybe the pressure will come off a bit when you get a new partner.’

The upward movement of Hawk’s dark eyebrows was also involuntary. ‘How do you know I’m getting a new partner?’

‘You said you were working on your own…currently.’

‘Hmm.’ Hawk picked up his box and moved towards the door, acknowledging farewells as he went. Annoyingly, Laura was following him to the car park.

‘I also happen to know your new partner.’

That stopped him. Hawk dumped the box on the front passenger seat of the squad car and turned. Laura was smiling more broadly now.

‘Charlotte and I did our paramedic training together. She’s my best friend. In fact, she should be unpacking the rest of her gear at my house right now. She’s moving in with me until she gets settled back in Wellington…and her new job.’

‘She’d better not get too settled.’ The remark popped out before he could help it.

‘Oh?’

Hawk had the chance to retract, or at least explain, the unfriendly comment but he didn’t want to. He wasn’t about to lay out any welcome mat.

‘My partner has only taken a three-month leave of absence. I’m expecting him back.’

‘Three months is quite a while. You may find you like working with Charlie.’

‘Oh?’ The sound reflected Laura’s previously dubious tone. Charlie? Anyone called ‘Charlie’ probably was built like a brick outhouse.

‘She’s very good at her job. She’s just been awarded a medal of commendation.’