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Title: Broadchuch: Sins Of The Father

Date of commencement: September 22 2013

Date of completion: December 24 2014

Series: Broadchurch, a sequel to the original, and following on from Life Without Joe

Rating: M

Authors: tkel_paris and tardis_mole

Summary: Two years after Danny's death, life is slowly getting back to normal in Broadchurch. But Hardy's happy life is about to be turned upside down by a spectre from the past he had hoped had been laid to rest. Someone from his past wants to talk to him, someone wants revenge, someone wants to see him ruined. But it's not one 'someone'. But first, he must face the girl in his garden.

Disclaimer: We own nothing, but this is based on Broachurch by Chris Chibnal, with added clues from the novel by Erin Kelly. We gain no financial benefit nor gratuities, only the enjoyment from writing and working together on this epic journey, shared for the enjoyment of others.

Dedication: Chris Chibnal, long time friend. bas_math_girl, for her beta. And each other for hopefully not ruining each other's lives for too long during the writing part.

Warning: If you have not watched Broadchurch in its entirety, do not read this. We mean it. You will be spoiled. Stop and go back. Now. Ideally you have seen the entire show, not just what was aired on BBC America if you live on that side of the pond, but this is understandable in either case. Also, if you have not read tardis_mole's Life Without Joe, that's okay. It's possible to read this without reading that, if you're not on Moley's approved list. You'll probably find this makes a little more sense if you have read it, but you should be fine without it. Take the time to read Erin Kelly’s novelization, if you can, as it provided certain details that helped with writing this. Though you won’t need to rely on it.

Authors' Notes: See Episode One, Part One. They're a bit long to include in each post.

/=/=/=/=/

Previously...

Episode One, Part Five: On and Off the case


The Superintendent returned to the incident room, ready for anything and pleased that everyone had already assembled. But there was a more stern air to her this time.

Can I have your attention, please?” she called across the floor of the incident room. She didn’t have a big voice. If you had a commanding presence and a respected authority, you didn’t need a big voice. So her dad had told her when she joined him among the ranks at the tender age of twenty. Even as a constable, she had been getting valuable advice from the top. Not that anyone could call that favouritism. Her father had been with the Cornish Police, covering Cornwall, Somerset and Devon, while she had been assigned to Wessex. And she was still here, while he father had retired some years before. The only thing he policed these days were the dogs in his back garden and the grandchildren at weekends.

She watched her officers, CID and uniform, collect themselves in various seats, usually in cliques, CID one side, uniform on the other, though the rivalry ended at playful banter. CID often had ‘sir’ offered by uniform, even though they were sometimes, strictly speaking, the same rank. They all had notebooks and pens at the ready and this time it was more serious than a spate of break-ins and accidentally poisoned dog. Which she would rather have had, come to think of it, since she’d only been back after maternity leave for a short time herself. And the Chief Super was away.

She started with a photo, taken by SOCO that morning in DI Hardy’s driveway that had to be kept under wraps. He had had enough of a hard time on the last murder case. She pinned the photo on the notice board beside her and began her work. Usually it was the DI who took this, but having spoken to her CO the minute Hardy’s call had come in, they had given her a grave message. This had been supported by what the coroner had found during the initial examination of the body.

Murder, young girl, around fifteen to seventeen years of age, no ID. She’s possibly a tourist. Found in a driveway of a house on Finch Lane, by a minor.”

Everyone knew Finch Lane. It had been called Finch Lane for generations before the railway had moved in and renamed it Station Road. After the line had been closed in the 1950’s and the buildings reused as a social club, Finch Lane had had it’s name reinstated. But it had taken Broadchurch’s committee a long time to get it done. Especially since it was well known by the locals as Ten-Pin Pedestrian Lane, owing to the very narrow verge and no proper pavements. Even the street lights hadn’t improved matters.

Sandra turned to see if she had the room’s attention. Unfortunately, she did. But it would have sparked rumours if she had taken him aside and dismissed him. “DI Hardy?”

Yep,” Hardy replied, scribbling notes into his notebook.

You’re relieved from this case,” the Super informed him.

Hardy’s head snapped up. “I’m what?”

Orders from above.”

Hardy looked thunderous. “Yes, sir,” he said reflexively and got up at once. He left the room without another word.

Ellie watched him go and looked at the Super in confusion. “Shouldn’t that include me? I mean my son found the body, in my driveway.”

You’re heading the team,” the Super informed her forthrightly. “Can’t have both my senior CID officers off the same case, can I? You’ll be heading the team.”

Ellie closed her mouth, feeling it turn dry. Head the team? She had never done that before, had always been in someone else’s shadow. Alec always told her she was ready, but with him off the team that put things in another light. But it also meant she’d have to pair up with another copper. She looked to DC Anna Stickler, who gave her a supportive smile. “Yes, sir,” she replied, and pretended to be comfortable with it.

Sandra continued with her rundown. No fingerprints, the girl’s an unknown. She was badly beaten, strangled and stabbed several times; it was unknown at this point which had killed her. The body had been moved from the scene of the murder; no blood pooling beneath the body, and drag marked located near the broken gate. There he evidence to suggest the murderer took very little care in concealing the body, hinting that they had expected it to be found. But there was no evidence to suggest the occupiers of the property know anything or are involved.

What’s the address?” one uniform asked.

Ellie felt sick.

Hardy’s,” the Super replied flatly. “And I will reiterate what I just said,” she continued boldly. “There is no evidence that the family are involved.”

But you took him off the case, sir,” the uniform pointed out.

Like I said, orders from above,” she returned. “He’s our most experienced officer, so the rest of you will have to work twice as hard to cover the slack.” She drew another item from the wallet of noted she had brought with her and pinned it next to the first picture. It was another photo, this one a blown-up copy of a photo booth print. It was the kind that came in a strip of four, though this one was a single. “This is why. And need I remind you all that nothing seen or said in this room, leaves this room?”

Oh god,” Ellie breathed.

She stared at the second photo. She had seen it before. In fact several officers in the room had probably seen it before when looking into Hardy’s background out of curiosity. They all knew that photograph from another case. If they hadn’t seen it they had heard of it. And one face in particular stood out. One of the four girls in the picture looked like a younger version of DI Hardy. Now it made sense why Hardy had been pulled from the team. Someone above had a feeling Hardy was involved. Or at least as a key witness.

Other evidence found at the scene was a gold locket. Just the back. It appears to have broken off in a struggle. The chain loop is twisted and the chain is also missing. If we find the rest of the locket, we might find the killer. Richards; get onto stolen property, see if it’s listed. Get some background on where the design came from. It’s been engraved with the initials DGH. Find out who this is. Someone somewhere engraved it. There might be fingerprints or a credit card receipt. Is it the victim’s, the killer’s, or is it unconnected? I want door-to-door, today. Daniels, Tucker; that’s you.”

Two uniforms nodded.

If the residents aren’t in, keep going back until they are. Post a bobby at the site, just in case the killer decides to come back. Someone they do. Jones, follow up on the post-mortem, ID, background, there might be history on her. Follow up on SOCO. Flemming, go to the local hotels and campsites, locate a family with a member down. Take uniform with you. It’ll look better coming from us than some gossip in the town. Headly; I want CCTV, if there is any. Someone must have seen her or know her. I want a pattern of movements. Where has she been, when and why? Who knows her? Miller, your job is to locate the other photos. These come in strips of four. Where are the others and who are the four girls, find out how they are connected?”

I can name three of them,” Ellie spoke slowly, with a sinking feeling. “The one at the bottom is my husband’s daughter, Daisy Hardy. And the one on the right is Pippa Gilespie, one of the Sandbrook girls. The one on the left is Hailey Bridgewater, a girl from Sandbrook reported missing several weeks ago. I don’t know who the other one is.”

Find out. Do you recognise the locket?”

No. It’s a bit ornate for a teenager, if you ask me, and a bit stuffy for Hardy. He’s not into jewellery. And I don’t own one,” Ellie replied.

Then we will have to assume it’s from the victim, the murderer, dropped by a visitor, or it’s been there for a long time,” the Super continued.

I doubt the last part, unless it was buried and only unearthed by the killer,” SOCO put in.

Is it the missing pendant from the Sandbrook case?” one of the officers asked.

No,” the Super dismissed frankly. “That case is closed. The pendent was found. “We can rule out the suspect as well. He’s safely tucked up in prison and won’t be out for another twenty-five years.” She paused for a second, reviewing her notes. “Right, that’s about it. Make this a swift arrest, boys. I’m off on holiday next week, and I’d like it done and the perpetrator hung out to dry before I go. Or before Chief Super Jenkinson gets back, whichever comes first.”

A chorus of ‘yes sir’ followed her out the door while everyone got to their feet. Ellie rose stiffly, still numb. She glanced at her husband’s office through the glass partition, the chair standing empty. First job, coffee. Then she could get on with the job at hand. Two girls, related by circumstance, were dead. Two photographs of two different sets of girls; one dead from each. Two from the older photograph were missing, or at least not available for questioning. She wondered if that meant the other two were next, or if this was just random chance. And she couldn’t ask her husband.

First job, coffee. Extra strong.

ĐĐ

To be continued...

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