Heated Beat 02 - Lucky Man by Garrett Leigh

rung at 5:00 a.m., summoning him to the mortuary. Waking Finn so early had proved no easy feat, and Danny still wasn’t convinced he’d understood why Danny had left him in bed.
    Left him naked in bed….
    Danny suppressed a shiver that had nothing to do with the frosty morning air, fished his phone from his pocket, and tapped out a message: Sorry I snuck out on u. Work. Ring u latr
    He didn’t expect a response anytime soon. It was still only just past seven, and Finn had been out of it when Danny had left him. He was a little startled when his phone flashed before he could drop it back in his pocket.
    Thought I’d dreamt you.
    Danny frowned. The comment would be benign from anyone else, but from Finn….
    His phone buzzed again before the thought got away from him.
    In the studio till late. Mite not hear phone. Ring u when I’m done.
    Danny’s heart gave a little flutter. Somehow Finn always made a simple phone call something to look forward to.
    He pocketed the phone and wove his way through the early morning traffic. He reached his desk at 8:00 a.m. and hardly had time for a cuppa before the DCI came looking for him.
    “My office, Danny.”
    Good morning to you too. Danny abandoned his tea, followed the DCI into his office, and shut the door. Most of CID would know about the latest dead girl by now, but he doubted anyone had seen the memo from Manchester, and he wanted to keep it that way until he’d established a cause of death for both women.
    The DCI poured himself a coffee from the well-stocked machine in the corner. He offered Danny a mug as an afterthought.
    Danny waved it away. Coffee made him jumpy. “I’ve brought the pathologist’s preliminary notes back with me. Not much to go on. They put a rush on the toxicology tests, but the level of junk in her is consistent with a long-term addict.”
    “COD? Rape? Defense wounds?”
    “Cause of death is inconclusive,” Danny said, and then he repeated the briefing he’d received from the pathologist.
    The DCI said nothing for a moment, and then he sighed. “And no ID either. What happens to these people that they can just disappear and no one notices?”
    Danny didn’t answer. It felt a little late for the DCI to begin empathizing with the toms on his patch. “I’m going to canvas some squats today. See if anyone’s missing a mate. I’ll head out tonight too.”
    “Good idea. Take Lanes. If this turns into something, you’ll need someone decent with you.”
    Danny nodded. Jen Lanes was a good detective, and he’d worked with her before. “Was there anything else?”
    “Actually, yes.” The DCI opened a drawer and retrieved an issue of the Manchester Evening News . He tapped his finger on the main headline: “Street Girls Vanish.” “The press knows something’s up in Manchester. None of their missing persons have turned up dead yet, but if the media links them to ours, we’re going to have a circus on our hands.”
    Danny agreed. He’d worked high-profile cases before—one of the cons of working Vice—and they were a nightmare. “One of ours could turn out to be theirs, though. We should touch base, at least.”
    “Okay. Do it. Samms is the bloke running their investigation. He’s a bit of a bastard, but gets the job done. I’ll forward you his contact details. In the meantime we need to hold a press conference here. Lay some foundations. You in?”
    A press conference? Fuck that shit. “All due respect, guv, but I won’t blend in out there if my face is all over the telly.”
    It was a genuine excuse Danny had used before, but the DCI wasn’t fooled. “Bloody camera-shy youngsters. Think that lot don’t get bored with my ugly mug all the time?”
    Danny shrugged and escaped the office to round up Jen Lanes. It was going to be a long day, and the sooner they got started, the better.
     
     
    DC J EN Lanes circled the small cordoned off area for a second time, then came to a stop by Danny and looked up the embankment. “No sign