59. Like A Glove
Waiting. The Gaze piece had done its work, and Sally felt the feral hunger building in the air.
These people weren't just looking for the story; they were hunting for scalps.
This was money, attention, careers on the edge of being made or broken.
No wasted effort. Everything conserved until the moment came.
She ducked her head and barreled through to the front doors. Questions rang after her, but nobody seemed to recognize who she was.
Yet.
Inside, the station thrummed with a panicky, frantic energy. The duty sergeant was new and stared at Sally in disbelief. In the bullpen beyond, officers thronged the open space, voices low but urgent, files and radios in hand.
Sally saw people she recognized: Hawlin, Simms, Flaherty and Gemmell sharing coffees and sandwiches around a desk strewn with files; Mayhew giving a briefing to a tight knot of people beside a whiteboard covered in details.
Sally headed over, and heads turned as she squeezed by.
Silence spread like ripples from a boat's hull.
She focused on the board.
As far as she could see, they had very little.
Scots Float Sluice was up there. A few pubs around Appledore.
The Snave Rotary club. There was even less on Mensah.
She was primarily based in London, it seemed; Hackney.
Her whole network was laid out, but no deeper connection to Bledd; their romance seemed a new thing.
None of it felt relevant. They needed to go earlier, before the killer laid this false trail, back to something solid.
Mayhew registered her approach and turned.
"I'm back, DCI," Sally said.
Mayhew's eyes were as cold as ever. "Congratulations on the article, Officer Rogers." The words carried across the bullpen. "Very tasteful."
Somebody laughed. Sally gritted her teeth. "I am sorry about that. It wasn't my–"
"I don't care. And I wouldn't believe you anyway. But you're here now, so get to work. I'm done trying to corral you. O'Connell says you're working alternative leads, and that works for me. Leave Bledd to us."
"Yes, ma'am," Sally said.
For a moment the two looked at each other. Did Mayhew's expression soften slightly?
"Dismissed," the DCI said, then turned away before Sally could be certain.
She turned to survey the bullpen. Eyes looked away rapidly.
There were copies of the Gaze scattered about.
The photograph of her charging through the storm had been pinned to one wall.
It was already stuck with a handful of darts, mostly focused on her face.
Nearby there was a photograph of Emily Chakrati.
Flowers, cards and candles filled the cabinet top beneath it.
Like a shrine.
The weight of that swelled and filled her. An officer lost, and she'd been so close. Maybe she could have done more.
Maybe…
She caught movement in the corridor outside their training room. Liam. His tall frame, sharp black suit and quiffed black hairstyle struck her like an island of familiarity.
She went to meet him.
He saw her, blinked, and they stopped a few feet apart. No hug, no words even, but there was something there. Something building.
"Good to see you, Sally," Liam said.
She smiled. "You too, Liam."
DI Gemmell approached from the side and nodded. "Ma'am."
"It's Sally, Stephen. Anything new on Spate?"
"Bits and pieces." He gestured over to the table where the team sat. Three officers, battered by events, who'd recently lost a colleague. Sally saw the weight of that bearing down on them, as well as the drive to do something about it.
They headed over.
"Ma'am," the team chorused. "Sir."
Gemmell cleared his throat. "We began by running down all Spate's businesses, ma'am, especially those he was invested in with Reginald Rook."
"Physical searches?"
"Nothing like that, I'm afraid. As far as we can see, there are no premises. Spate sourced it all through Reg, and he kept his gear, like the digger, either at the reactor or Umberside Lodge. No other physical presence, assets, or land."
"And we already searched the Lodge extensively," Simms added. "CSM Akilota's team have been over every inch of that place."
Sally turned to him. Even the big man looked battered. She hadn't thought about Umberside Lodge in days.
"So we're back onto conspiracy," Liam said. "The fifth Rook."
"The DCI's already asked Roarke about accomplices," Gemmell said. "Multiple times. He said no every time."
"But she didn't know what we know now."
"He's in the interview room currently, ma'am. Sally. You want to take a run at him?"
Sally looked at the corridor leading to IR1. Roarke Rook. Her lips felt dry. "I don't think he's going to talk. At least not yet, with what we've got so far." She glanced toward DCI Mayhew. "And something tells me we'll only get one shot."
"Agreed," Liam said. "We need leverage."
"So we're back to Spate."
"The best friend," Gemmell said. He held out a thick wallet of papers. "There's plenty here, and on Meeks. Not much new, though."
"Still, thank you. Keep digging." She looked around at their expectant eyes. It felt like something more was needed, but she didn't know what to say. Words didn't count for much at a time like this. The only thing that mattered was taking the killer down.
"We'll get this bastard," Liam said, seizing the moment. "For Emily."
"Damn straight," Simms said abruptly.
"Then let's go."
"Oh." Simms rose to his feet. "One moment, sir, ma'am." He sped away down a corridor.
"Where's he going?" Sally asked.
"DCI's orders," Hawlin answered. His tone was strangely flat, and she remembered what Chakrati had said about the two of them.
Local kids, done good; making it as a beat copper with regional police.
His loss had to be the greatest. Now he had a bandage around his head and one eye was bloodshot, but he was still here.
"No officer goes out without basic armament.
Not after, well…" His gaze strayed to the shrine on the wall.
Sally nodded. In moments Simms returned with a utility belt already loaded with cuffs, batons and PAVA. "You left these in the ambulance, ma'am."
"Thank you." She buckled the belt on. "What about a vehicle?"
"You'll love this," Liam said and started away.
"Love what?"
He led them out of the station and into the rainy rear lot. Icy water soaked Sally's scalp and shoulders in seconds as they walked across, then Liam pointed. "There she blows."
A standard issue patrol car stood before them; white, fluorescent yellow and blue, with a light bar on the roof.
"Huh," Sally said. "Bit of a throwback."
Liam held up the keys. "It's this or hitchhiking." He opened the door and dropped into the driver's seat.
Sally got in the passenger side.
"Everything just how I remember it," Liam said, looking over the controls. He pushed up a lever on the side of the steering column, and the light bar began to strobe blue and red. "Shit. I wanted the wipers."
"It's all coming back to you?"
"Like a glove." He switched off the bar, got the wipers on the second try and headed out of the lot.