Free Dying Eyes by Ryan Casey Page A

trying to say is that you’d better find out as much about this kid as you can, before the parents come in here and bloody kill him, or before he decides he’s had enough and takes off. Well, what are you waiting for?”
    Brian and Cassy scrambled to their feet on cue as the rest of the officers, tired-eyed, remained slouched in their chairs.
    “Carter, any word from forensics on Nicola’s body?”
    DC Carter, a bulky man with a face like a bulldog, shook his head. “No word. Forensics staff is down to the minimum. Can only do one thing at a time.”
    “And the CCTV?” Brian asked. “Pennison?”
    DC Pennison shrugged and held out his hands. “Council CCTV doesn’t cover the crime scene. A complete blind spot, which is very handy for a seedy area like Foster Road.”
    Typical. Forensics was taking its time, and CCTV was a dead end. Two leads down the pan, all thanks to inadequate council budgeting. “Right. We’ll go speak to Daniel. The rest of you, make sure the system is up to date, and check in on Scott and the Watsons. We need to make sure that lad doesn’t think he’s got away with things too easy, in case he does anything silly again. Get on the phone‌–‌I want an official statement from the boy, okay? A few of you get back down to Foster Road and expand the house calls. We need every single house in that surrounding area accounted for. Price will split you into groups. Understood?”
    Pennison and Carter nodded as Peters continued to key into the laptop. Brian and Cassy walked to the door.
    “Oh, McDone?” Price said.
    Brian turned back to face him. “Yes?”
    “Get a shower. You fucking stink .”

Chapter Nine
    Danny Stocks wasn’t alone.
    One of the duty solicitors, Jonny Marsden, moved up to the desk and held out a hand to Cassy and Brian. He was short and plump, with a ring of hair above his ears and a pair of wonky glasses gripping his shiny head. Danny, his hair matted and greasy, stared into the distance. Brian pulled a chair out for Cassy then one for himself before opening up his diary and getting comfortable. He clicked the record button on the tape recorder as Danny scratched at his arms.
    “DS McDone and DS Emerson interviewing Mr. Daniel Stocks as an exceptional witness in the Nicola Watson case.”
    Danny blinked.
    “Also present is duty solicitor Jonny Marsden, who is representing Mr. Stocks.” Brian nodded and smiled in Marsden’s direction, who returned a nod out of politeness. Fucking sap.
    “Mr. Stocks, firstly, I should make you aware of your rights. You‌–‌”
    “He’s very aware of his rights,” Jonny snapped. “He knows very well he doesn’t have to be here so soon after his incident. And he knows very well that he can leave whenever he wants.”
    Brian attempted a smile. These duty solicitors always had to stick their noses in where they weren’t wanted, regardless of whether it was in the case’s best interests or not. All they cared about was their paycheck. “Thank you, Mr. Marsden. Mr. Stocks, can I call you Daniel?”
    He looked at Brian. “Danny.” His voice sounded weak.
    “Danny. As you’re aware, you’re being treated as a witness in the Nicola Watson case, hence the need for recording. We have reason to believe you were the last person to see her alive. First of all, and I hope you’ll excuse me if I’m blunt, but I don’t particularly care. Why the big show yesterday?”
    Danny opened his mouth, but Marsden leaned forward and interrupted. “Mr. Stocks would appreciate a bit of sympathy on his behalf. He is still in a fragile state of mind after recent events, and your aggressive line of questioning, especially targeted at a witness, is only going to upset matters.” Marsden’s raspy, forced-posh voice indicated he was probably from Blackburn, really. Stupid bastard.
    Danny, looking between Brian and Cassy, sat back into his seat and closed his mouth.
    “Why did you do a runner yesterday, Danny?” Brian asked.
    Danny reached for a