He's Back: DI Robyn Bailley, #3

By Alex Clare

Who can you trust to stand by you when things go wrong?

 

Waking up in hospital after an attack by a fleeing suspect Detective Inspector Robyn Bailley finds herself as just a body to be treated. Returning to work, it's all change at the police station now the centre of a national operation targeting drug smuggling and a body turns up on a building site. Six months into her transition and struggling to be taken seriously, Robyn has to reassert her identity, even if this means putting herself at risk.

I read this book in one sitting, proof of the holding nature of the narrative (Tressa, Amazon)

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alex Clare
• Release date: Aug 15, 2023
• ISBN: 9781739309527

Alex Clare

After twenty years as an office worker who jotted down stories on her commute, Alex Clare was made redundant. With impeccable timing, she then saw an article in her local paper for a writing group, meeting in the library. With a regular source of feedback and inspiration, she began work on her series of novels featuring DI Robyn Bailley, a trans woman detective inspector. Now working again, she’s back writing in her normal place on the morning train.

Book preview

This book is part of the Detective Inspector Robyn Bailley series

He’s Gone

She’s Fallen

He’s Back

First published 2022

This revised edition 2023

Published by Areto

© Alex Clare 2022

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblances to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978-1-7393095-2-7

To the G who remains and the G who is gone

Wishing you each the peace which works for you

The Meresbourne police team

DI Robyn Bailley – decided it was time, at forty-four, for the world to see her as she saw herself coming out as a trans woman. Hates references to her deadname, Roger but still ‘Dad’ to Becky.

DS Graham Catt – looking forward to retirement but hadn’t planned for his wife’s illness.

DC Lorraine Mount – ambitious, black, musical. The team’s representative on Operation Emerald, a cross-force initiative tackling drug smuggling.

DC Ravi Sharma – twenty-seven and on the fast track. A recent family tragedy has left him with a lot on his mind.

Acting DC Chloe Talbot – only five foot one and enjoys when people underestimate her.

Superintendent Fell – old school: his moustache is his hobby, though he also likes jazz.

Tracey, PA to Superintendent Fell – the one who really keeps the police station running.

Khalid Guler, Media Manager – rather smoother than Meresbourne is used to.

Inspector Matthew Pond – family man, in charge of Meresbourne’s uniform police team.

PC Donna Pound – single mother who feeds the stray cat which hangs around the police station.

PC Clyde Boothe – wants Meresbourne’s black kids to have a better childhood than he did.

PC Jeremy Doubleday – applied for the fast-track programme and didn’t get in.

Sergeant Phil Flagg – normally based in the Gaddesford station, likes things simple.

Sergeant Martha Weston-Howard – custody sergeant who takes no prisoners.

Dr Henrietta (Hetty) Brockwell, Scene of Crime Officer – church warden with views.

Dr Kelly Shepherd, Pathologist – Australian washed up in Meresbourne, normally wearing shorts.

WEDNESDAY

21 SEPTEMBER 2016

1

Another hour, Simon told himself, if the wind held up, he’d be clear of the shipping lanes and able to relax a little. Thames Toreador bucked as the last wake of a distant ferry slapped onto her bow. Laden, the ship wallowed through the waves but he was hopeful of making up time.

The forecast was for a steady force five wind which promised an easy trip with time to drop the load off and be tied up in Meresbourne harbour before dark.

What he saw in front of him didn’t match the weather forecast. Ahead, lines of rain joined the sky to the sea and, rather than staying constant, the wind speed seemed to be increasing.

Simon headed to the cabin for his waterproofs and found the still air almost too thick to breathe. With another layer on, he was now sweating and his life jacket scratched his neck, no matter how many times he pulled up the collar.

This was definitely going to be his last trip this season. Another couple of weeks and he wouldn’t be able to make the crossing in the available daylight. The boat lurched, his swollen, clumsy feet sliding on the damp deck. Clutching the rail, Simon waited until his breath was steady.

Six choppy hours later, Simon found the buoy, bobbing between restless swells. The Meresbourne coast wasn’t visible through the murk and that was probably a good thing, given how long the transfer was likely to take. The boathook felt heavier than usual and once he’d pulled in the marker, he had to rest, the boat wallowing beneath him. After a few minutes, not feeling any better, he forced himself down to the cabin. Bracing himself, he tried to lift the mattress from the bed. It slid in his hands but at least exposed part of the frame underneath. He ran his finger along the join between two panels until he located the depression and inserted a bottle opener. Hearing a catch click, he opened a space big enough to slide his hand in and pull up the wooden lid.

Inside the compartment were long black bags, looking like sleeping seals. He knew each bag weighed about fifteen kilograms and he had seven to bring up to the deck. With the first dragged out to the floor, there was the palaver of remaking the bed. This was his rule, to make sure only one would be visible at any time. Gripping the bag, he staggered to the deck, like a dance with a dead partner. When he tried to drag up the chain attached to the buoy, the breath solidified in his lungs. Timing his lunges with the swells, he pushed the bag to the rail so he could click its carabiner to the chain and let it roll into the sea. One done. He counted to ten, summoning his strength and made his way to the cabin to fetch the next bag.

Getting the second bag out, the plastic slid in his grasp and he winced as his little finger caught in a strap and was forced back. The three steps up to the deck exhausted him and Simon was on his knees as he stretched for the chain. As the deck came up to meet him with the next swell, he heard a splash as the bag hit the water.

The call came in just before half-past two. In the poor conditions, it took the lifeboat nearly an hour to get to the Thames Toreador. After the coxswain scrambled the air sea rescue helicopter from Lydd, Simon was strapped into its hoist and winched up. As the roar of its engine subsided, one crew member knotted a tow line. ‘Do you think he’ll make it?’

The coxswain retested the fixing on the lifeboat. ‘Tow line secure. Dunno, depends how long he was out here for. OK to move?’

The knot was tugged, tugged again. ‘Secure.’

‘Roger.’ The coxswain raised her hand to start the tow. As the boats began to move she shouted over the rising wind ‘Guess we’ll find out when he’s back.’

* * *

The green Astra mounted the pavement. Lorraine’s car surged alongside trying to barge it out of the way. Glass went flying but the Astra was still coming, there was nothing else in its way. With the engine’s screaming in her ears, Robyn bundled the girl’s body over the low wall behind her. There was no pain when the car struck her, she couldn’t see anything apart from the green blur that filled her eyes. She felt her feet losing their solid contact with the ground as she was scooped up onto the bonnet, flung into the air and began falling, falling.

‘And he’s back with us.’

Robyn wasn’t sure whether her eyes were open or closed: all she could see were swirling lights and juddering flashes of green.

‘How are you doing there, Robin? We’ll be at the hospital very soon, you just hang in there, mate.’ She wasn’t sure where the voice was coming from, she had a feeling of floating, being above everything. And she was snug and cosy, like being in a bath on a cold day.

‘Pulse dropping. Let A&E know, resus on standby.’

A roaring, getting closer. The green was coming, blotting out everything else.

‘Robin, Robin, I’m sure you can hear me. I need you to stay with me. You’ve had a bit of a bang so you’re on your way to hospital to get checked out. I hear you were a bit of a superman out there, don’t go spoiling it now.’

There was somebody there, Robyn thought. She wondered who they were talking to.

2

Sound filled Robyn’s ears, green dribbled across her vision. A sudden bump, with a feeling of floating, then falling, falling. Her body jerked, prickling against something. There was a warm moment when she realised if she could hear and feel, she probably wasn’t dead. Without opening her eyes, she explored her body, sending thoughts down each limb, testing where sensation stopped. The process was difficult because her mind wouldn’t stay in focus. There was too much else going on: a rhythmic pumping somewhere to her left, a chattering, ticking noise in front of her. From somewhere came a low moan of pain, a rising note of appeal. Robyn’s instinct to help responded automatically, her muscles tensing to go to the person in need. Hot pain engulfed her body.

Wincing, Robyn tried to force herself to relax. The keening of hurt came again and reflexively her body stiffened. This time, she was prepared for the pain but there was a new sensation, the pressure of something around her, soft, but firm enough to restrict her movement. There was a new noise, a tapping, getting louder before it stopped. The next burst of noise came from right next to her ear.

Trying to turn her head caused agony down Robyn’s spine. When the spasm had passed, she risked opening her eyes and was immediately dazzled. Above her, a shape, silhouetted by white.

‘Ah, you’re there, good.’

The voice was crisp, used to being obeyed. Robyn tried again to look, letting light leak in as she got used to the glare. There was a glow around the person’s head, giving them a halo and hiding their face in shadow. The figure was never still, bending and straightening, moving in and out of her field of vision. Without warning, her wrist was taken and held up, sending more complaints prickling along her skin. When her arm was put down, the figure bent closer, adjusting the pillows. Blinking to focus, Robyn made out the face of a woman with light black skin and streaks of grey in the tight curls of her hair.

‘Is there anything I can get you?’

Robyn couldn’t form words – the act of speaking was harder than she expected because her mouth seemed to have no moisture in it.

‘Do you want a drink? Of course.’ Out of her vision, there was the gentle gurgle of water. ‘Here’s the straw...can you? Good.’

Something pushed between her lips. The act of sucking brought new pains across her ribs, but the feel of the water in her mouth was delightful and she took more until the cup was removed.

‘Better?’ There were creases around the woman’s mouth in what looked like a broad smile. ‘Now, do you know where you are?’

‘Hospital?’ Robyn tried to move her lips as little as possible and the word came out as a hiss.

‘That’s right. You were brought in by ambulance. You had a nasty accident.’ Accident? Robyn tried to think. She remembered whatever she’d been doing had been really important but what it was, there was no clue. ‘I’ll let the doctor know you’re back with us.’

With one step, she was out of vision. Not wanting to risk her neck again, Robyn shut her eyes, hearing the nurse’s purposeful footsteps fading into the background noises of multiple rhythms, each at their own speed. A scream rose from close by, descending into a gurgle. More footsteps went past, someone whispered, then a swishing and the noises became more muffled.

‘Mr – ah – Bailley? Can you hear me? Just say yes.’

Robyn blinked. Something moved into her vision, a face. The noise she made didn’t sound much like a word but it seemed to satisfy the man. He looked very young, the skin around his eyes paler than his face, with a white band across the bridge of his nose.

‘I’m Doctor O’Rourke. Glad you’re back with us. How are you feeling?’

This needed more than a grunt. Robyn wanted space to work out what had happened to her before having to answer such questions. Like the nurse, the doctor was constantly in motion, flicking papers on a clipboard, adjusting his stethoscope.

‘Don’t worry, take your time. From what we’ve seen so far, it’s looking positive. No bones are broken, which is a good start. In the morning, we’ll need to run a few more tests, check your internal organs but I’d say you were lucky.’

She wanted to ask what had happened but the water seemed to have already evaporated from her mouth. ‘Time?’ It seemed important to know.

The doctor stopped for a second. ‘What time is it? It’s coming up to eight o’clock. You’ve been here – ah, about six hours from when the ambulance brought you in.’

Six hours – there was something there, something she should have done in those hours. She clenched her hands, feeling unfamiliar texture between her fingers and trying to apply the pressure to her mind at the same time. Out of the green came the face of a girl – no, a young woman. She’d been due to meet her daughter, they were going to work things out.

‘Becky.’ The rough sounds she made didn’t sound anything like what she was trying to say.

The doctor frowned. ‘Didn’t quite catch that, sorry. Are you in pain? Your medication may need topping up.’

‘Becky.’ She stopped, scraped her tongue across her lips. ‘My daughter.’

‘Ah, your daughters. Yes, they’re waiting for you. One’s been here since you arrived. Are you feeling up to seeing them?’

Robyn tried to nod – it was a mistake. She hissed something she hoped sounded like ‘Yes’.

‘Let me get the nurse over to sort out some more medication and we can bring them through.’ He breezed away, a squeak on each retreating step.

Now her vision was clearing, Robyn could see up towards a grey-painted ceiling. With the movement available to her, she eased her head to the right and her vision filled again with green from a bunched curtain behind the bedside cabinet. There was a jug of water beside her but she couldn’t think how to reach it. Her next breath was full of a stiff, harsh smell, a battle of clean and unclean. It was familiar: she’d been somewhere similar recently. A young woman, bleeding, running until she couldn’t run any more, the smell of deodorant overwhelmed by terrified sweat. Under the covers, Robyn shivered.

‘Are you all right there?’ The nurse was back and her voice was deep and soothing. ‘Doctor O’Rourke mentioned you might need some more pain relief before you see your daughters.’ She reached forward and clicked something overhead: when she leaned closer her badge came into focus – Lalique. ‘There, you should start to feel better shortly. And we’ll just give you a little lift.’ Again, she pressed something, answered by a whirr and vibration.

The hit of pain as Robyn’s shoulders were lifted was short-lived and once she was sitting up, she felt less helpless.

‘Now, is there anything else?’

‘Water?’ Her mouth mangled the word. Robyn caught Lalique’s eye before looking to the side.

‘What did you say? Oh, yes.’ The nurse refilled the cup and held the straw to her lips. This time, Robyn held the water in her mouth as long as she could, making sure it reached every part before swallowing.

With a minimum of movement, the cup was refilled but Lalique put it back on the inaccessible side table. ‘Now, ready for your daughters?’

The nurse was gone before Robyn could point out she only had one daughter. From her more upright position, she could see further along the ward and the sights and noises rushed in together. At the far end, a booth had the curtains closed – another high scream rose from inside. Across from her, a wheelchair had been pushed close up to a bed where all she could see amongst multiple blankets was two old hands clasped together.

‘Dad.’

Robyn shifted her head towards her daughter’s voice, ignoring the new pains.

Becky stopped a step from the bed, rocking back and forward on her toes. Her long hair was scraped into a severe ponytail; the flicks emphasised her restlessness. ‘Oh, Dad, are you alright?’

Her eyes moist, Robyn was reminded of Becky when she was seven or eight, wanting a hug but not being sure whether a big girl would ask for one. Becky’s hand found her shoulder and rested there.

‘Hello...’ No, useless, she couldn’t hear herself. She licked her lips and tried again. ‘Hello, sweetheart.’

‘Hi, Dad.’ Leaving her hand resting on Robyn’s shoulder, Becky settled herself on the side of the bed. ‘You’re a hero.’

Her weight constricted the sheets so they were too tight against Robyn’s skin. Any thought of telling Becky to move vanished in the joy of the warm touch on her shoulder. For the first time, there seemed to be nothing but acceptance from her daughter.

‘Chloe’s been here with me, waiting. She told me everything, how you saved someone.’ Becky angled her head to one side. ‘She wouldn’t come in, said I should see you first.’

‘Nurse thought you were sisters.’ It was an ambitious sentence to attempt but Robyn was desperate to be part of the conversation.

‘Say again, Dad?’ Becky bent forward, increasing the pressure on Robyn’s ribs to a point where she thought she would cry out.

‘No sitting on the beds, thank you.’ From the other side of the ward, Lalique’s words carried authority.

‘Oh, OK.’ Becky stood up and pulled up one of the hard, plastic chairs. She laid a hand on Robyn’s arm but the angle was awkward and she took it away again. ‘How do you feel?’

‘Sore.’ The thought had come to say ‘fine’ but Robyn had decided she’d suppressed her feelings enough over the nineteen years of Becky’s life and, from now on, she would be honest about things.

‘I’m not surprised. A car drove into you!’ Becky’s eyes were wide. ‘Some nutter tried to run down his girlfriend and because you got her out of the way, they hit you instead.’

As Becky said each word, it was as if a piece slotted into a mental jigsaw. Now a picture came into focus: a green shape barrelling towards her and the split second in which to make a choice. It wasn’t something she wanted to relive with Becky around. ‘Nurse thought you were sisters. You and Chloe.’ She hoped it wasn’t too obvious she was changing the subject.

‘Sisters? Ha! I don’t think we look similar, do you?’ Becky’s smile faded. ‘She’s been brilliant, keeping calm the whole time.’

Robyn searched for something to say which seemed worth the effort. ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’

‘Da-a-ad. Don’t be daft.’ Becky leaned forward, chin almost on the bed. ‘I was out and when I got back, there was a police car waiting at your place. The officer told me you were in the hospital and drove me here.’

‘Are you going to be all right on your own?’ It was a stupid question – Becky had been at Uni for a year, she was used to living away from home.

‘I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me. Just glad you’re OK. The doctor said nothing was broken. I thought you looked pale but he said maybe a green gown isn’t really your colour.’

The attempt at humour made Robyn want to reach for her daughter, hug her but all she could manage was a shuffle of one hand across the sheets. They sat, Becky’s fingers twined loosely through hers, arranged to avoid the large needle taped in place across the back of her hand.

Their bubble of silence felt comfortable until Becky shifted and stood up. ‘You know, I should get Chloe. She’s been here all this time.’

Alone for a moment, Robyn breathed out, eyes closing until images pushed into her mind: a car charging closer. Her eyes snapped back open.

‘Here’s Dad.’

Without turning her head, Robyn could only see a glimpse of Acting DC Chloe Talbot. It might have been the hospital lights, but her normally pale skin had a blueish tinge giving the woman a ghostly look.

‘Hello, Guv. Glad to have you back.’

Robyn tried to smile, feeling her dry lips protest.

In response to a wave from Becky, Chloe sat down on another chair. ‘I’m afraid I don’t have any more news on Bartholomew – ’

‘Is that the bastard who did this?’ Becky’s jaw was set in a hard line.

‘Yeah. Everyone wants to be the one to catch him, Guv, you can imagine.’ The eagerness in Chloe reminded Robyn of herself at the start of her police career – you’d joined to fight evil and you never doubted good should always triumph. That idealism seemed a very long time ago.

‘And when you get him, he’ll be charged?’ There was steel in Becky’s voice.

Chloe nodded. ‘Definitely. This will be attempted murder, to add to the other things he’s done.’

‘Bastard.’ Becky shook her head.

Robyn tried a deeper breath, feeling the pressure against her ribs. She could just leave the two of them to talk.

‘How are you doing there, ladies?’ Lalique appeared at the end of the bed. ‘Now because your father is going to be with us for a couple of days, I’m thinking you two could get some clothes for him?’

‘Oh, we’re not sisters.’ Becky almost giggled. ‘Chloe’s a cop, Dad’s colleague.’

Robyn couldn’t see the look the nurse gave Becky, but she could see Chloe’s face tighten as if she was about to say something.

‘Well, there you go. Either way, your father will need some pyjamas and things to read.’ There was no pause to Lalique’s movement as she did something with the hanging tubes. ‘And I was thinking there’s a lucky man with two such pretty daughters.’

3

‘No.’ No one seemed to have heard what Robyn said because no one was looking at her. If Becky took after her mother, there was about to be a blast of fury over the woman’s casual sexism.

‘But she’s – ’ Chloe’s words were cut off by Becky’s laughter.

‘I bet you say that to all the patients. How long do you think Dad will be in for?’

‘Let me get the doctor. He’ll tell you what’s what.’ With a final pat to a pillow, Lalique left.

Turning back to Robyn, Becky grinned. ‘What she said – can you imagine how Mum would’ve reacted?’ Her attention shifted to Chloe. ‘Mum’s a Professor of Women’s Studies and she’d definitely call out the sexism of calling a woman pretty.’ Becky laughed again, sitting back. ‘Except of course, the person who said it was black, so Mum would worry it was a cultural trope and you shouldn’t appropriate those. And so she’d have tied herself in