Broadchurch: Blast From The Past

Chapter 8

TW: gross-ness, foul language

"Dear God, you smell like a slaughterhouse."

"Thanks," Alec said dryly. "You should smell my car."

"There's corpse-juice on your shoes," Ellie continued.

Alec glanced down at his worn-out brogues, covered with some oily substance. "Shit."

Chief Jenkinson chose that moment to make an appearance. "Miller, Hardy, good. I wanted to talk to—what is that smell?"

"It's me," Alec admitted in a grumble.

"Why?"

"I just brought Susan Wright's dead dog back from Somerset."

Jenkinson clapped her hand over her nose. "Good Lord. You have to change. Nobody will be able to concentrate with that stench hanging about."

"We don't have time," Alec told her.

"Don't make me pull rank again. Go home, take a long shower, and come backless of a biohazard. Have SOCO give you some of the smell-neutralizing soap they use."

"Change your shoes, too," Ellie added.

"Are you sure you don't want a hug, Miller?" Alec held his arms out sarcastically. "I've got plenty of stench to go round."

"Out," Jenkinson snapped.

Alec did as he was told, dousing himself in the soap SOCO gave him. The hot water cleared his head, as well as clearing away the smell. He threw his shoes away—they were beyond help, with corpse juice and fur on them—and left his overcoat soaking in the bathtub with the rest of the special soap. The ShitMobile, meanwhile, finally lived up to its name in terms of smell. Alec left the windows open in the PD lot. Something told him it wouldn't help.

"Much better," Ellie said when he returned. "How's the car?"

Alec ran a hand through his damp hair; it took hours to dry and he refused to use a blowdryer. "It's...airing out."

"Ralph called with an update. He wants you to know that he's taking early retirement because of you."

"How about some relevant information?" Alec suggested grumpily.

Ellie ignored his tone. "The gun that killed the dog also killed Earl Collins. The dog had a collar with a phone number that traced back to an Elaine Jones."

"That's one of Susan's aliases," Alec said with grim satisfaction. "Get someone looking at that alias, cross-referencing with Jacqueline Wright. Emphasis on social media profiles and mobile phones."

"Already on it. Also, the press release went out. We got a shit-ton of media requests, but no leads."

"Sir! Ellie!"Nish hurried over, waving a piece of paper. "We got a ping off Jacqueline Wright's phone."

Ellie grabbed the paper and skimmed it while Alec squinted over her shoulder. "I don't have my glasses. Where is it?"

"Abandoned warehouse about five miles from here." Ellie paused, waiting for the reaction that she knew was coming.

Alec snagged his parka from the hook on the wall. "Don't just stand there wittering, Miller, come on!"

~~~

They approached the warehouse from the back. The place looked like it was once a factory, but was now a haven for squatters and the occasional illegal rave. Half the windows were broken out; weeds grew through the cracked concrete of the car park.