Chapter 18
CHAPTER 18
M ac
I’m elbow deep in reports when Shari knocks on my door and opens it. “You wanted to see me, sir?”
“Shari, you know I don’t—” I look up and see Fortescue right behind her, which would explain the sir. That was the first thing I told her when she started in my department. No sir, no formality, unless of course there’s a member of the public or one of our stuffy bosses present. I switch tactics straight away.
“Thank you, Detective Dhutta, do you have the Johnson file? I’d like to have a look at it before lunch.” Whilst we are mostly working on the Winstanton cases, we also have a number of smaller cases that have trial dates coming up soon, so I need to make sure I’ve done all the work I need to for those as well. Fortescue walks past her and into my office, and sits on the chair on the other side of my desk.
“Of course, sir.” I catch the pertness in the way she says sir, done purely for Fortescue’s benefit. I fail to suppress a smile, and when I look at the older guy he’s frowning at me. It seems he noticed as well.
“Allowing familiarity in the workplace will never gain you respect. You’re a senior detective and should behave as one. We should always uphold the hierarchy so everyone knows their place.”
Ah yes, heaven forbid anyone steps out of their ‘place,’ though the way he mentioned I’m a senior detective made it sound like it was an affront to him personally. It probably is. Partly because I refuse to abide by his outdated rules. Keeping everyone in their ‘place’ does not automatically imbue respect, otherwise I’d have bucketloads for him and I have almost none. I have just enough for his position to make sure I keep my job and that’s the extent of it. I’ve found that respect comes from creating a team where all the members feel valued and are able to contribute without worrying about their ‘place,’ which also means being comfortable enough to call out their seniors if needed. It’s happened to me, and I welcome it if I’m making a mistake. We are all only human. Though I’m not sure that’s the case with Fortescue.
The way he settles in his seat means I’m in for some lengthy talk about a subject that’s irrelevant and could be put in an email. I do manage to stifle a very disrespectful sigh and try to tune him out as much as possible.
When he leaves over an hour later it’s nearly lunchtime, and I’m almost sure he kept talking that long as he knew I wanted to look at the Johnson case. The way he looked at his watch with the oiliest of smiles, exclaiming, “Good Lord, is that the time? Look at me rambling on.” He got my hackles up straight away. It’s the sort of petty action he’d take, making sure I knew the power he wielded and that I knew my place. As I watch his retreating back I idly wonder if there is any way I can connect him to any of Winstanton’s criminal activity. I doubt it; he isn’t smart enough for Winstanton to have entrusted anything important to. More likely he just unknowingly greased some of the wheels of his dealings, used by Winstanton as part of the old boys network and hierarchy he’s so fond of.
Shari bursts through the door with the file in her hand, and even more welcome, a coffee, which she puts down on my desk first.
“Sometimes I think you’re an angel,” I say as I reach for the cup. She snorts.
“More like self-preservation. Working with you when you’re grumpy is not pleasant. I bring you coffee entirely for my own interests.”
I look at her over my coffee cup, savouring the first taste of the much needed nectar.
“Win win, then,” I say and she smirks at me, putting the file down on the desk. I have an afternoon of meetings starting in an hour, so it looks like a working lunch to review the file—nothing new there, then.
By the time the meetings finish, it’s late and already dark. I can’t believe it’s December already. My brain is tired and my body sluggish. I can’t decide what I want more, coffee or sleep, and then my phone pings with a text from Nolan asking if I want to meet him at the gym. This seems like a much better option, for my body at least, and I haven’t seen him in over a week. We’ve a lot to catch up on.
I tell him most of how going back to my house and talking to my mum went, drip feeding him snippets of our conversation between machines as we follow a slightly different regime. I keep the revelation for when we’re alone and in the Goat after our workout.
“So,” I start, as soon as we’re in our usual booth and have a pint in front of us. My round this time. “It turns out my father is American. Some dude my mum hooked up with for a couple of days during her trip.”
“Wow,” he says, with surprise showing on his face as he wasn’t expecting that. Neither was I but I’ve had a week to get used to it.
“I know, right?” I take a gulp of my drink.
“Did she give you any details?”
“Not much. Just a name and the state he was from at the time.”
“Are you going to look him up?” he asks.
“Do you mean am I going to make inappropriate use of the extensive databases at work to track him down?”
“Well, I meant Google, but yeah, that too.”
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “It’s a question I’ve asked myself a thousand times over the last week. Do I want to know any more than I do? Do I want to spend time looking for a guy who doesn’t know I even exist?”
“Firstly, I don’t believe that. You’re a cop, you love ferreting out information and solving mysteries.”
I huff a laugh because he’s not wrong.
“And secondly, he doesn’t know about you?”
“No.”
Nolan lets out an exaggerated breath.
He’s right about me wanting to know everything, but this? This is personal, and I’ve seen the devastating effect finding out unexpected information can have on people. I know myself enough to believe that if I found out more, I wouldn’t be able to leave it alone. What if my mum’s reason for not telling him is valid, that he has a family, children, possibly grandchildren? An unexpected bastard son turning up after nearly forty years could blow that family apart. I’m not sure I want to open that can of worms.
“Well, I guess that’s better than him knowing and not wanting to have anything to do with you,” Nolan says.
“Cheers mate, you really know how to cheer a guy up,” I say and drink a third of my pint in one go, giving myself time to think. Nolan’s right of course. After finding out my father wasn’t a great hero, discovering he knew and rejected me would be a very bitter pill to swallow. Which is also partly why I’ve been holding back on finding out more.
“So, who is he, then?” Nolan asks as I place my glass back on the table.
I release a sigh. I might as well tell him; it can’t hurt.
“All I know is that he’s called Niall Fisher and he came from South Carolina. That’s it, and I guess he’d be around sixty now.
Nolan tilts his head and has a faraway expression like he’s thinking.
“You could ask Reece,” he says at length.
“What?” I ask. “I mean, I know he’s the only American we know, but it’s a pretty big place. He’s not likely to know everyone there. I don’t know everyone who lives on my street.”
“Yeah, well, you wouldn’t,” he teases and I allow it as he’s my oldest—or only friend, which says a lot about how anti-social I am. “But his name is Fisher and he’s from somewhere around there. I can’t remember where exactly. Let me give him a call.” Before I can stop him he’s already pulled out his phone and ringing Reece.
When he ends the call he must see my expression. “Shit, sorry. I didn’t ask, did I? I got caught up in the excitement. I didn’t tell Reece anything, just asked him to meet us here. I can cancel it.”
I look at the excitement in Nolan’s eyes and feel a spark of curiosity build up. I can’t imagine Reece is going to know much anyway, so I’ll probably be right back where I started, which is nowhere.
“Fisher you say?” I ask and Nolan grins, knowing he’s been forgiven. Then his eyes narrow.
“I’ve not really noticed before, but you do look a bit alike,” he says. “Perhaps you’re cousins.” He laughs, and I shake my head at him and his ridiculous notion.
“That’s preposterous. It’s a good thing you’re not on the police force.”
“I know, you don’t believe anything without the full facts and hard evidence. I’m glad I work in a job where we’re allowed to use our imaginations.”
I laugh and for his cheek send him to the bar for another pint.
Reece appears just as he returns, and Nolan gets him a drink too.
“What’s this all about? You were very cryptic on the phone,” Reece says after we greet each other and he’s had the first sip of his pint. I like how he’s got his priorities right.
“Weeeell,” Nolan begins, and then glances at me. I nod and give him the go ahead to continue. He started this so he can lead it. “You’re from South Carolina, right?”
“Yeah.” Nolan gives an amused snort. “A small town in the middle of fuck knows where.”
I totally agree with his sentiment.
“But you didn’t drag me out here for that, did you?” His gaze bounces between us, still with half a smile.
“Do you know a Niall Fisher?” Nolan blurts out, and I watch as both the amusement and the colour drains from Reece’s face.
“Why? Who wants to know?” He immediately goes on the defensive which is interesting, and my intuition kicks in and I get the familiar tingle of a story here.
“Ah-ha!” Nolan says with glee. “We want to know, and I can see that you do. So tell us.”
“Well, I know one Nial fisher... my father.” Reece’s face is deadpan, his eyes flashing with confusion.
“Fuck!” Nolan laughs and something inside me twists.
“It doesn’t mean anything. There has to be plenty of Niall Fishers in that state, hasn’t there?” I say. Surely that has to be true.
“I guess, but it’s not that common a name,” Reece answers, looking more thunderous by the second.
Nolan looks closely at us both and then nods his head. “I really didn’t notice it before but I can believe it.”
“Believe what? Fuck it, Nolan, can you tell me whats going on?” Reece’s tone shows he’s not finding it nearly as funny as Nolan, and I don’t blame him because neither am I. Nausea roils in my stomach. I’m partly excited because it would be incredible if it were true, but mostly I’m unbelieving. I know the universe works in mysterious ways, and I’ve come across weird coincidences in my investigations, but this is way too far-fetched. Nolan seems incapable of saying anything more and I’m not sure I want to.
“This might come as a bit of a shock, but I have reason to believe we might have the same father,” I start.
Reece doesn’t say anything, but he picks up his pint and downs the rest of it in one go. He shoves the empty glass at Nolan. “I’m going to need more of that.”
Nolan dutifully complies and returns within a couple of minutes. Once Reece has another drink in front of him he turns back to me.
“Tell me all you know,” he says, and I do, not that there is much, just the story my mum told me. When I finish, needing a drink myself, he sits back and blows out a breath.
“I’m not shocked; I can believe it. My mum always suspected that he’d been with someone just before they got married. He certainly didn’t respect his marriage vows afterwards either. I’m sorry to say that if you were looking for a solid upstanding all-American guy to call Dad you’re going to be disappointed. Our father is a grade A asshole.”
I wasn’t expecting anything, really, because I had an idea what he’d be like from my mother’s tale. But I don’t care, because now I have something far better than I could ever have imagined—I might have a brother.