Case One
Authors: Chris Ould
VICTIM: TEENAGE FEMALE, 14 YEARS OLD.
UNCONSCIOUS.
HEAD INJURY.
LACERATION TO ARM.
STRUCK BY LORRY.
Why was Ashleigh Jarvis running so fast that she didn't see the lorry? Why was she so scared? And,
why
was she barefoot on a cold winter's evening?
It's Holly Blades' first case and she wants to know the truth. But how much is she willing to risk to get at the
real
facts�
Readers' reviews at Usborne.com
“With well-developed characters and a shocking twist at its climax,
Case One
will leave teens breathless for the next book.”
“fast-paced, unpredictable and enjoyable from beginning to end”
“This book is a brash, fearless, suspense-ridden crime fiction novel ⦠Can't wait for the next!”
“I cannot wait to sink my teeth into the next one after having devoured this gutsy, electric, hypnotic book. Lovers of teen crime will find their new obsession.”
CHRIS OULD has written more than eighty hours of television drama, including episodes of
Casualty
and over forty hours of the hugely-successful UK police drama
The Bill
, winning a BAFTA for one episode. Chris lives in Dorset with his wife and son. This is his debut YA novel.
CONTENTS
Sneak preview of
The Killing Street
AUTHOR'S NOTE
The characters and events in this novel are fictitious. However, the law and police procedures â with the exception of the TPO training scheme â have been kept as close to reality as possible.
GLOSSARY
a body: a person or officer
a brief: a solicitor
CCTV: closed-circuit television
CID: Criminal Investigation Department
civvies: civilians â members of the public. Also, civilian clothing
CPS: Crown Prosecution Service
CSE: Crime Scene Examiner
DC: Detective Constable (plain clothes)
Delta Mike: call sign for all officers and vehicles attached to Morningstar Road station
Delta Mike Five: call sign for IRV
DI: Detective Inspector
DS: Detective Sergeant
FME: Forensic Medical Examiner
FSS: Forensic Science Services
IBO: Integrated Borough Operations
IC1: white person
IC3: African/Afro-Caribbean person
index (number): car registration number
intel: intelligence information
IRV: Instant Response Vehicle
ITU: Intensive Therapy Unit
NFA: No Further Action to be taken or required
OR: Own Recognisance â independent working
PC: Police Constable (“uniform”)
PM: paramedic
PR: Personal Radio
refs: refreshments â a meal break
reg: a regular officer, i.e. a fully trained, full-time PC or above
RTC: Road Traffic Collision
Section House: residential accommodation for police officers
TPO: Trainee Police Officer
turn: a shift, e.g. early turn, late turn
POLICE RANKS
(IN ASCENDING ORDER)
Uniform
Trainee Police Officer
Police Constable
Sergeant
Inspector
Chief Inspector
CID
Detective Constable
Detective Sergeant
Detective Inspector
Detective Chief Inspector
HOME OFFICE PRESS RELEASE:
“The Trainee Police Officer programme is a pilot scheme which will enable the Police Service to enrol and train new recruits from the age of sixteen. Training will last two years, combining Academy study with Street Duty placement at selected operational stations.
On completion of the initial two-year training course, Trainee Police Officers will serve an additional year as Probationer PCs before joining their selected station as regular officers.
We anticipate that the TPO programme will enable the Police Service to more actively engage with younger elements of the community, as well as provide a fast-track entry to the Service for recruits demonstrating outstanding ability.
The TPO programme will be conducted on a trial basis in England and Wales and applicants will be chosen by selective interview. It is anticipated that the first intake of TPOs will number fifty, divided between three areas of the country: the South-west, North-east and the Midlands.”
ENDS
FRIDAY
1
In the evening darkness it was hard to tell that Ashleigh Jarvis was crying as she hurried blindly across the uneven paving stones of the precinct. Her long dark hair straggled across her face and hid the tears. The racking sobs that welled up from her chest came silently, hard and choking.
But even if you couldn't tell that she was crying, you might have thought there was something odd about the way she moved. She hugged her arms tightly round her body, making her movements clumsy and off balance; but if you'd looked you'd probably have thought that it was just because she was cold. There was a chilly wind and her thin polyester cardigan clearly wasn't enough to retain any heat.
So, if you'd noticed Ashleigh Jarvis at all, you'd probably have seen just another silly fourteen year old who'd gone out without a coat â just trying to keep warm as she hurried to her destination. No one could really have known she was crying, or that she was hugging herself because it was the only way she knew to keep herself from collapsing in broken pieces on the ground.
No one did look at Ashleigh though â not closely; not with anything more than a passing glance. So no one stopped her to ask if she was okay. No one registered the fact that she was leaving bare footprints whenever she trod on dry flagstones after wet ones, and no one thought she wouldn't pause when she reached the kerb at the side of the road. In fact, no one really noticed her at all â not until they heard the skidding of tyres on tarmac and the surprisingly loud thud that came almost simultaneously.
No one saw the impact, not even Ashleigh Jarvis. She knew nothing about it. The driver of the lorry saw her stumble into the road, but with only two or three metres between them she was immediately lost from sight below the level of his windscreen, and by then it was too late.
Even by standing on the brakes the driver was unable to stop the truck for another twenty metres, and by that time Ashleigh Jarvis was lying bleeding and unconscious in the gutter behind him.
She was no longer hugging herself though, and perhaps that's why she looked as if she had finally fallen apart.
On the other side of the Cadogan Estate Charlie Atkins had his fleece zipped right up to the neck so that it covered his collar and tie. There was nothing he could do to hide the suit trousers and polished shoes below the fleece though; and nothing he could ever say to convince his father that choir practice didn't need Sunday-best clothes. All he could hope was that the darkness would hide what he was wearing if he passed any of the Kaddy Boys on the ten-minute walk to the church.
As yet he hadn't seen anyone, so perhaps this time it would be okay. But even though he was off the estate, he was still alert â so when he heard the sudden thud and the crack of the shop window fracturing beside him he jumped and instinctively stepped sideways, away.
Even as he did so there was another dull thud, and when Charlie looked he could see that both impacts had been caused by a figure in a hoodie wielding a heavy ball-peen hammer inside the shop. The glass was starred in two places, with longer cracks radiating out from these points, but the window's refusal to shatter was clearly annoying the person on the other side of the glass because he was already bringing the hammer back for a third blow.
This time he put so much effort into the swing that his hood slipped back on his head and, a split second before the glass fractured again, Charlie saw the face of Tyler Smith, contorted with effort and concentration.
Wide-eyed, Charlie was transfixed by the weirdness of the scene. As he stared he became aware of other figures inside the minimart â at least two â and of a general noise of breaking and shouting coming from the open door. For a second he wondered if it was a robbery, but if it was, why was Tyler Smith trying to break the window from the
inside
?
Charlie was still trying to make sense of all this when he realised that Tyler's gaze was now locked on him through the crazed glass. The older boy was mouthing something unintelligible, but for Charlie the threatening gesture of his fist was clear enough â he didn't want to be standing there when Tyler Smith came out of the shop. Quickly, Charlie swung away from the window and started to run.
Two or three minutes later, breathless and heart pounding, he vaulted up the church steps two at a time and fumbled in through the door as the organ swelled and voices rose in a few bars of “Everything I Need”.