Chapter 24 Carter
CARTER
“You’re the new detective in Hope Falls?” I ask.
She can’t be. This must be a mistake. Anything but the truth.
“Well, Hope Falls and some neighboring towns and villages, but I’ll be based here.”
I stop and stare at her but I don’t answer.
I take in the long plaited dark hair, tweed jacket, white shirt, and skinny jeans.
The red leather satchel on her shoulder looks more like something a child would take to school, and along with all the rings on her fingers, the tattoo on her hand, the great big bloody wolf by her side, this woman does not look like a detective.
Let alone a senior one. Despite advertising for a senior detective for six months and finding nobody suitable, my bosses refused to promote me.
Even though I’ve been here for years. And now, instead of giving me the job I deserve, they send her?
This isn’t happening. She cannot be my new boss and I can’t seem to find the right words.
Then a few wrong ones rush out all at once, tripping over themselves.
“Is this a joke?”
It sounds ruder out loud than it did in my head, but the corners of her mouth turn upward into what passes as a smile.
“I know, it’s madness,” she says. “I’ve heard they let women vote these days too, and as if that weren’t bad enough, now there’s a female DCI in Hope Falls. What is the world coming to?”
“But that would mean that you’re my—”
“Boss. Yes. I am your new boss. Sorry about that. I’m hoping it won’t be too much of a problem for you.
And just so you know, I actually have very strict rules about not sleeping with people I work with.
Especially those who are under me, so to speak, but I wasn’t your boss when we did what we did, so I’m hoping we can just put all of that behind us.
Start again. Reset. What do you reckon?”
“I … don’t know what to say.”
“Well, ‘Congratulations’ might have been nice. Or, ‘Welcome to Hope Falls.’ Or, ‘I’m thrilled I get to work with someone so experienced who can probably teach me more about being a detective in one day than I will have learned sitting around here for the last few years.’” I don’t respond well to sarcasm and in this situation I can’t seem to form a response at all.
I’ve slept with my boss. I’ve seen her naked.
I’m picturing that and all the things we did and I realize I’m just staring at her.
“Do you need switching off and on again?” she asks.
“What?”
“Never mind. Perhaps you could tell me why today is so busy?”
“A woman is missing. Another suspected suicide.”
“Why do you say another? How many have there been?”
“The waterfall at the top of the cliff is a popular suicide spot. We get a lot of jumpers, especially at this time of year,” I say.
Then I remember that my new boss’s mother killed herself—that’s why she left Hope Falls when she was a child—and it’s probably not what she wants to be reminded of on her first day.
I’m making a terrible second first impression.
My mind races ahead to all the reasons why her being here is bad.
Then my mind wanders back to that night when I met her at Spyglass.
I fancied Birdy the first time I saw her.
She has a certain quality, a quirky uniqueness that I can’t quite put my finger on.
I doubt I would have done what I did if I’d thought I’d ever see her again, but she said she wasn’t coming back and invited me in.
How was I supposed to say no? I’ve never had sex like that before or since.
I remember kissing her. I remember fucking her. I remember the taste of her—
“Carter?”
“Sorry, what?”
“I asked you a question and you’re just staring into space. Have you had a stroke?”
“I don’t think so. What do I call you now?”
“Birdy. I told you that already. Try to keep up.”
“Seems a little informal.”
“I find things tend to be less formal when you’ve seen a person naked.” I can feel my cheeks burning. “Was there a witness to this suspected suicide?” she asks.
“A dog walker saw a woman running up the coast path to the cliff—”
“Did they see her jump off it?” I shake my head. “Have you found a body?” I start to shake my head again. “Use your words, Carter.”
“No.”
“How long ago was the woman reported missing?”
“She wasn’t.”
“So you haven’t found a body and nobody has been reported missing. But you think there has been a suicide because…”
“I just formally interviewed the husband and I have reason to suspect—”
“You did what? I get that you’re bored, but you can’t just invent crimes to investigate.”
“There have been some strange goings-on up at their house the last couple of days—”
“Strange goings-on don’t stand up in court. On what grounds did you interview the husband of a woman who has not been reported missing because you think she might have committed suicide?”
I hate the way she is looking at me right now.
I hate that she is here at all. When I got the call to say a new detective was starting today, I imagined a man.
Someone I could look up to and learn from.
She doesn’t even look like a detective, and even her dog is staring at me as though I am an idiot. I’m not.
“The husband came here voluntarily. Said he had something to tell me.”
“Is there a transcript?” she asks.
“No.”
“You didn’t record it?”
“Yes, but on tape. I was just listening back to it when you walked in.”
“Tape?”
“Yes. We still use cassettes here. You can borrow my Walkman if you’d like to listen.”
“Have I accidently time traveled? Is this the eighties?”
“My predecessor liked doing things the old way. He said, If it’s not broke, don’t fix it.”
“I’m more of an if it’s not broke, break it woman when it comes to getting the job done. Sounds like I arrived in Hope Falls just in time.” She reaches inside her jacket pocket and takes out a small leather notebook. Then she takes out a pen and clicks the top of it.
“What is the husband’s name?” she asks.
“Harrison Woolf.”
“And his missing wife?”
“Eden Fox.”
She writes down their names. Proper old school. But then she is older than me.
By far the oldest and sexiest woman I’ve ever slept with.
And the scariest.
“Earth to Carter!”
“What?”
“Quit picturing me naked,” she says, and I feel my cheeks burn.
“I’m your boss now, you’re going to have to get used to it.
” Her words feel like a slap. “I don’t have time to listen to a tape but I want to know what the husband had to say.
Transcribe the interview, or find an app to do it for you, then email it to me. I’ll be in my office.”
I look around the station that consists of just this one room. And just one desk. Mine.
“Your office?” I ask.
“Yes. Also known as The Smuggler’s Inn.”
“You’re going to the pub. Now. This morning?”
“Well, I can’t work here. This place is depressing.”
“I thought you said you were never coming back to Hope Falls.”
She takes a step closer and for a moment I think she is going to kiss me. Her face is so close to mine our lips are almost touching.
She smiles. “I changed my mind.”