Broadchurch: Across the Pond

Chapter 4

TW: discussions of death and murder

The adjoining door miraculously closed itself sometime before morning. Ellie banged on it shortly after sunrise, yelling at Alec to get moving. She could have texted him, but then she wouldn't have had the satisfaction of hearing him grumble, "Oh, for fuck's sake" as he dragged himself out of bed.

When building the morning's schedule, neither of them took the Los Angeles traffic into account, which added an hour to the commute. Alec and Ellie were astonished with the sheer number of cars and people. Their cab driver didn't seem to care, whistling along to Bollywood music and tapping on the steering wheel. He accepted their credit card without comment, and left the shell-shocked pair outside a massive police station. 

"How do people live here?" Ellie asked, already starting to sweat in the constant sunlight. "It's all—smog, and noise, and bloody cars."

Alec shook his head. "I dunno. Remind me of this next time I say I hate Broadchurch."

"Oh, I will."

He strode inside without another word, leaving Ellie to trail in his wake as usual. He walked right up to the desk sergeant and flashed his badge. "DI Alec Hardy and DS Ellie Miller, here for Detective Sanchez."

"Oh, you're the Brits!" the sergeant exclaimed. She made a ten-second phone call. "He'll be right down."

"I get the feeling we're going to be known as 'the Brits' for the whole time we're here," Ellie remarked under her breath.

"I've been called worse," Alec said dismissively.

"I'm sure you have."

Detective Sanchez bounded down the stairs and shook their hands jovially. "Alec, Ellie, pleasure to meet you!"

"Detective Hardy," Alec corrected.

Ellie tried to offset his grumpy approach. "You can call me Ellie."

"You can call me Sanchez," Sanchez told them, oblivious to said grumpiness. "Let's get you upstairs and settled in. You're sharing an office."

"Oh, shit," Ellie muttered. She and Alec yelled at each other enough as it was; being cooped up together would undoubtedly make things worse. At least she wouldn't have to put up with the constant shouts of" MILLAH!" every time he had a thought.

They took the stairs the second floor, Alec breathing rather harder than Ellie expected. He caught her staring and gave her a look that clearly said, Don't start, Miller. She let it go—for now.

People stared openly as Sanchez led the visitors through what he called—for no apparent reason—the bullpen. He nattered cheerfully the whole way, pointing out the break room, vending machines, and a half-dozen other things. Finally, he ushered them into their office. It was a decent size, at least, with floor to ceiling windows. The desks were back to back, and Ellie could already imagine her and Alec crashing their swivel chairs into each other.

"Here you go!" Sanchez said, still cheerful. "Take today to go through everything, and tomorrow we'll buckle down."

Alec locked the door behind him. "Loudmouthed bastard, I thought he'd never shut up."

"I'm gonna kill you for this," Ellie said.

"I might kill myself before it's all over." He looked out the window, peering downward. "D'you think we're high up enough to die if I jump?"

"You let me know." Ellie set down her work bag. "Might as well get going."

With a sigh, Alec sat at the desk he'd apparently claimed as his own. "You take the computer files, I'll take the paper files. Let's see who has  anervous breakdown first."

"Three separate crime scenes, one of which is six months old and closed. The second one is four months old, and washed away by a storm. The third is two months old, and still under investigation." Alec tossed his glasses on his desk. "Dear God, what have we gotten ourselves into?"

"A right bloody mess, is what we've gotten into." Ellie kneaded her forehead. "We've been at this three hours, and I'm already getting a migraine. Have you got any aspirin?"

"What, haven't you got a pharmacy in that suitcase of a purse?"

"Would it kill you to just say no?"

"Might." Alec gave another heavy sigh. "I thought this would be a learning experience, but I can see by these bloody files that I'm wrong. I don't know if they're incompetent or just don't know any better."

"Just because they do things differently doesn't mean they're incompetent."

"Look at that." He shoved a paper at her. "They lost a suspect. Not just evidence, a whole fucking person. Went on holiday to Mexico and they never saw him again."

Ellie shook her head. "Looking, we'll get nowhere staring at this shit. Let's get going properly."

Exchanging papers and pictures, they began discussing the first victim, Dawn Underwood. Twenty-two-year-old, female, bludgeoned to death and left on a beach. No signs of sexual or domestic violence, just her head bashed in by what CSI theorized was a brick or cinder block. Her phone was missing and turned off. Its last location was a bar across town. Family and friends had already been interviewed; the transcripts were in the file. The police had no suspects or motive. To make everything worse, her body was embalmed and buried, with the crime scene dismantled and open.

"I've had dreams about this kind of case," Ellie remarked. "Usually in the same dream where I'm being chased by a Yeti."

"Is there any CCTV footage for the bar her phone was pinged at?"

Ellie scoured the database. "Nothing. There's a note here that says the cameras were struck by a power surge and reset, so no footage."

"Bollocks." Alec paced slowly around the room. "Any from outside?"

"Nope. Doesn't say if any employees of the place were interviewed, either."

"That's the first thing they should've done! Stupid, idiotic, academy level--"

"If you don't stop yelling, they'll realize how much of a knob you are." Ellie pulled up the bar's website. "The place is called the Shamrock Shack. Specializing in Irish and Scottish cuisine and drinks."

Alec leaned over her shoulder to look at the pictures. "Dear God. A travesty."

"We should go."

"The fuck we should."

"I meant to do interviews."

"Oh. In that case, you're right." Alec coughed and rubbed his chest. "I'll be right back."

"Have fun."

1. This is a murder mystery, so if that sort of thing triggers you, you honestly might not want to continue. I will not be offering the murder TW going forward. There is no sexual violence or suicide, except for Alec's sarcastic comment earlier in the chapter.