Detective Constable Jenny Lord - Terrorism in Broadchurch?

Chapter 7 Beginnings and Endings

The noise in the squad room acted like an anvil inside Hardy's head. He focused his gaze on the office door and forced his feet in that direction. Every memory of every time he fought for his equilibrium rushed back. He'd been sober then, This was self-induced and utterly stupid. Someone yelled, "score," when a soda can hit a bin. Bloody bastard, Relief came on the other side of his office door, A set of earplugs helped, He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes and waited for the two aspirin he'd dried swallowed to kick. God, why did I think getting drunk last night was a good thing? Death does not seem like a bad thing now!

Sitting straight up as Ellie tapped his shoulder, "Miller, what the bloody hell, don't you knock?"

Ellie removed the earplugs and placed a cup of coffee in his hand. "I did, you didn't hear, it's time for the briefing."

Hardy rubbed his temples and growled. "You do it, make sure they know to check everywhere our suspect can hide, boats, dressing cabanas, under bridges, hell, even dog houses."

"I know the routine, Alec, maybe you should go home, you're not a lot of help like this."

"I'll be fine, I just feel like such an idiot."

"Well, I won't argue about that but you do need to get yourself together."

Hardy glared up at her, replaced his earplugs and tuned the rest of her lecture out.

It was noon before the hammer behind his eyes eased off and his queasy stomach settled. He had a distinct feeling, relief could've come sooner had Ellie Miller controlled her damnable need to mother. He focused on field reports, jotted down notes and circled concerns. Somewhere in the West Bay, a killer hid. He would catch him. At half past twelve, he dropped his glasses on the desk and thumbed both tired eyes. A shoe scuffling across the floor shifted his attention to the door. Jack didn't bother to knock, just sauntered in with a half grin and black folder.

"What the hell do you want Jack, I'm not drinking with you again? "

Jack snorted, "Sorry about that, Hardy. I'm here to offer my mea culpa."

Hardy eyed the man with suspicion.

" I have a name and a bit of information for you. The third suspect is Mohammad Raijin, raised and educated in the US and speaks perfect Spanish. We think he's passing himself off as a Hispanic American on holiday. We confirmed his American passport. His fellow terrorist tells us he worked a couple of years as a movie makeup artist before returning to the Middle East. That particular talent is why we had trouble getting anyone to ID them. He created new disguises every time they moved. His last makeup job was set up for the day before they planned to return to Syria."

"So the photo we have is useless, You're really not helping, Jack."

"I know it makes it harder but all I can do is share the information we have. You search here for a Spanish speaking American, we have the airports covered and the Coast Guard has the ferry services covered? If I get anything else, I'll let you know."

Ellie passed him on the way out the door. "What was that wanker doing here?"

"He was telling me our profile and photo of the third suspect is useless."

"What, how, I don't understand Alec?"

Hardy explained everything to Ellie. "Oh God, Alec, now we will be in the business of racial profiling because this plonker can change his appearance. I don't like it at all."

"I know, but what can we do? I want you to check all the hotels and B&B's in the area for a Spanish speaking American. Also, check for any North Americans in the area and have them questioned. Our guy could have fake passports from several countries."