why loyalty had to be so painful. And when would he learn to give his loyalty in the right direction? He ought to have learned that lesson from Diane Fry - their brief relationship had certainly been difficult enough to drive it home. Cooper shuddered at a premonition. He thought it likely that she could inflict more pain on him yet, given the chance. The police vehicles cluttering up the roadsides at the bottom of the main track on to Ringham Moor made
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Diane Fry frown in exasperation. The scene looked chaotic, as cars with beacons flashing arrived one after another in the gathering dusk and slewed across the narrow verge. A minibus carrying the Tactical Support Unit was unable to squeeze through the gap left by the parked cars until a uniformed sergeant yelled at someone to move. Figures in reflective yellow jackets were caught briefly in the headlights as they passed aimlessly backwards and forwards. Fry itched to take control of the situation, to bring order and a bit of sense to officers so charged with excitement and adrenalin that they were causing more trouble than they were worth. But, in fact, she shouldn” even be here at all. She had thought she had got awa from E Division, that her few weeks in Edendale ha been a bad dream she could soon put behind her. Bu here she still was, answering the call. And before sh knew what was happening, she had found herself out the Peak District countryside again, where civilizatio seemed like a dim memory and the twenty-first centu was reduced to the fantasy of a Victorian novelist. She stood with Detective Inspector Paul Hitchens o the rocks overlooking the road. A fine drizzle was se tling on their clothes and in their hair, and turning t’
gritstone slab under their feet a shade darker. Wi Hitchens at her side, Fry felt as though she had take another step closer in her ambitions. She was alread ‘acting up’ as a detective sergeant, with a transfer to permanent DS’s job in the offing when the immine re-shuffle took place. A move couldn’t come too soon for Fry. At all cos she must avoid the crazy distractions and misjudgements that had plagued her in a spell shortly after her arrival in E Division from West Midlands. The name of her biggest misjudgement was Ben Cooper. The thought of him immediately sparked the surge of anger that always bubbled somewhere deep in her stomach, churning thick and corrosive like an acid that flowed in her small intestines. It happened every time; it only took the mention of Cooper’s name, or even a burst of the wrong music. There were cassettes that she used to play often in her car which she had been forced to throw away - not just casually chucked on the back seat, but hurled into the nearest wheelie bin, with their spools of magnetic tape ripped out and shredded like the innards of a rat she had once seen killed and torn apart by a police Alsatian in a derelict warehouse back in Birmingham. If there had been an open fire in her flat, she would have burned the tapes; she would have happily watched their plastic cases crack and twist and bubble, as they melted into a greasy smear. Fry wiped a sheen of drizzle from her face, where it was starting to make her cheeks feel damp and uncomfortable. No, she hadn’t quite managed to erase Ben Cooper from her memory yet. But she was working on it.
‘We’ve arranged for you to see Maggie Crew at six o’clock,’ said DI Hitchens. ‘You’d better get going, as soon as this lot are out of our way.’ ‘Was she willing to see me?’ ‘Willing isn’t a word I’d use. She’s bloody hard work.’ ‘She’s uncooperative? But why?’
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‘You’ll see. Form your own impressions of her, Diane, her
that’s the best way. We want you to get to know her. Get under her skin. Be ranrresented with a chance to
Fry knew she was b g p do something different, to escape the routine chores that the Ben Coopers of the world would be allocated during this enquiry. ‘I’m looking forward to it,’ approval. ‘When are they goin Hitchens nodded in app to stop messing about d dressed casually, in denims an DI Hitchers was trainers, and he looked like Hia sncheeks were dark should and been doing something else. unshaven, and there were specks of white paint in hiS hair. ‘We’ve got to keep the road open,’ said the sergean importantly as he passed below them. ‘Yeah. You’re doing a great job. We can see that.’ ‘Control reckons the cavalry,s on thinspector e rugb They tracked down a couple of your
match.’ Fry knew exactly what that meant. The rugby mat was where Ben Cooper would have been with friend, Todd Weenink, and no doubt DS Dave Renni too. Cooper wasn’t a rugby-playing man himself. Fro her own experience, Fry reckoned he was more like to be taking out the half-time oranges and cleaning t players’ boots, generally getting in the way and makin helpful suggestions. But he would have been at t match to support his colleagues. Oh yes, Ben Coo was a great one for supporting his friends. ‘Oh, and you’ll be pleased to know our lads won too!’ called the sergeant. Fry blew through her teeth and jammed her hands into the pockets of her coat, squaring her shoulders like someone bracing herself for a fight. Rennie, Cooper, and Weenink. The dream team. Just what E Division needed to stamp on a spate of attacks on women. At last it looked as though someone had located another place to park. Radios crackled, the sergeant shouted, and cars began to move off, flashing their headlights and spinning their wheels dramatically on the grass as they went. But as the patrols and vans made space, another car arrived. It was an unmarked Mondeo - a private car, not a police vehicle. The doors popped open and a warm fug seemed to ooze out into the evening chill. A voice was raised in complaint from the back seat. ‘I can’t believe we left those uniformed bastards with all the beer,’ it said. Fry recognized DC Weenink immediately. He was damp-haired and pink-faced, and his voice sounded petulant, like an overgrown child. She watched in disgust as he poked bare, muscular legs out of the car door and struggled to pull his trousers on over his jockey shorts. Parts of his anatomy bulged dangerously from his underclothes, and the buttons of his shirt were unfastened over his hairy chest. Even from sevral yards away, Fry knew that his breath smelled of Icohol. She watched DS Rennie get out of the driver’s seat. Ut no Ben Cooper. Suddenly, Fry felt more cheerful.
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Her shoulders relaxed, her lips formed a contemptuous smile.
‘Well, if that’s the cavalry,’ she said, ‘my money’s on the Indians.’
DI Hitchens laughed. Weenink heard the laugh, and he looked around for its source. He grinned up at Fry, with his zip still open, his hands pressed round his crotch, the position of them emphasizing rather than concealing the bulge in his shorts.
‘Excuse me, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘Can you use me at all?’
Fry stared at him, but Weenink’s grin only grew broader, until it became a smirk. She turned to stride away from the road. She had no time to waste on petty irritations - not when a woman’s entire life had already been wasted up there on the moor. She had seen enough wasted lives, and her own had almost been one of them. But not any more.
Ben Cooper took a swig from his bottle, conserving the beer carefully, anxious about drinking too much. He
didn’t want to become a solitary drinker, though th temptation was strong.
A few minutes ago, he had rung Control to find ou
