here.’ He looked at her, and she detected sincerity in his gaze. Or a good facsimile of it. His voice dropped. ‘Look, Marina. Sometimes I have to make decisions that are unpopular, or that people who don’t have full access to the facts may find… contentious. Rose Martin is a fine officer. In my opinion’ – he highlighted the words, as if he had spoken in italics – ‘she is fit to return to work. The case she is working is fairly routine. I’m sure she’ll be fine. And with budget cuts, we need all the bodies we can get.’
He smiled, as if that was the final word.
‘Fine. Well I just wanted you to know that I have officially voiced concerns, that’s all.’
‘Noted.’ He smiled. ‘That’s what we pay you for.’
Any further conversation was abruptly halted. Phil Brennan was walking towards them.
‘Ah,’ said Glass. ‘Here he is. I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.’ He walked away.
‘Tit,’ Marina said. Then felt guilty. He wasn’t that bad. There had been worse DCIs.
Forgetting Glass, she turned, smiling, to face Phil. Her heart still rose when she saw him. Even here, even like this. Or perhaps even more so. After all, they had met during a case, so it seemed like a natural habitat to them. Working together. Just like old times. It felt right.
And sometimes she just couldn’t believe her luck that she had him.
But as soon as he approached and she saw him clearly, her smile faded.
24
‘Phil?’ Her hand straight on his arm, concern in her eyes. ‘You OK?’
He shook his head as if coming out a trance, seeing her for the first time. ‘Marina. Hi.’ He stopped before her.
Her voice dropped. ‘What’s the matter? You look like you’ve, I don’t know. Seen a ghost.’
His eyes went out of focus for a few seconds before zoning back in on her. ‘No. I’m… I’m fine. Just… fine.’
She was about to ask him again, but he spoke before she could.
‘We’d better get a move on,’ he said, not bringing his eyes into contact with hers. ‘I’ve asked the forensic teams to give us a few minutes alone in there. I’ll come with you, show you round. Tell you whether they’ve moved anything, what was in the original places. That sort of thing.’
‘Fine… ’ She was still looking at him, curious. Phil was a man of raging emotional torrents – because of his upbringing, both good and bad. It was one of the things that had first attracted her to him. The damage she felt an immediate connection with. The passion he had she wanted to share with him. But she knew that because of his job, for the most part he kept his emotions tightly bound. Didn’t let anyone glimpse inside.
But he had never done that to her before. Never kept her out. And that was what she felt he was doing now.
One last attempt. ‘Phil?’
‘I’m fine.’ He pulled his arm away. ‘I’m fine. I’m just… tired.’
She looked at him, said nothing. Felt the tightrope she was on begin to waver.
‘Right,’ he said, clapping his hands together as if to break a spell, ‘you up for this?’
‘Why wouldn’t I be? It’s my job.’ Frosty. Clearly unhappy. If Phil picked up on that, he didn’t acknowledge it. ‘OK. Good. Come on then, let’s go.’
He turned, walked towards the house. She followed. Putting her relationship aside, ready to enter the house as a professional.
Compartmentalising.
She would deal with the rest later.
25
‘Watch your step down here. It’s pretty rickety.’
Phil led the way, Marina behind him. The arc lights had been left on, the trailing cables leading up the wooden stairs to outside generators. There was space for only one person at a time, so he moved carefully, aware of her behind him.
He was angry with himself. What he had seen in the other house had spooked him, unsettled him, though he didn’t know why. But he knew the answer was within him somewhere. And until he found it, he couldn’t share it with anyone else. Not even Marina.
He hated keeping anything from her. It broke his heart to see the concern on her face, knowing he couldn’t say anything. He just hoped she would understand. Later.
He reached the cellar floor, Marina a few seconds after him.
‘This is it,’ he said. Waiting while she took it all in, trying to see it through her eyes.
She looked round, her eyes widening as she saw the cage. ‘Oh my God… ’
‘Exactly. My reaction too.’ That sense of unease returned as he looked at it once more. His mind was trying to subconsciously connect it with the diagram on the wall…
No. He couldn’t see it.
Marina gave another scan. ‘And the flowers? Was this how you found them?’
Phil looked at the floor. Some of the petals had been gathered up, removed. A few had been trampled on by Forensics.
‘No, they were all over the floor. Strewn.’
She smiled. ‘Strewn. I think you’ve won the award for most unexpected word of the day.’
He reddened slightly. ‘What can I say? I’m honoured.’
Her smile faded as she went back to work. Concentrating.
‘There were a few bunches, though.’ He pointed round the walls. The bunches were still there, where he had found them. Wilting, dying.
‘In those exact locations?’
‘Just about, yes.’
She nodded, staying in the one place, looking round three hundred and sixty degrees. She took it all in. The flowers, the cage. The workbench. The gardening tools. The markings on the wall. Her lips began to move as she spoke to herself.
Phil had seen her do this before. Mentally processing information, working out what she saw, interpreting the scene before her. He had never ceased to be amazed at how she did it, or the accuracy of her results.
She walked round the cellar. Plastic gloves on her hands, paper booties over her shoes. She knelt down, examined one of the bunches of flowers. ‘Roses… red, blue, yellow… ’ Then another. ‘Carnations, red, blue, yellow, same colours… and here, petunias, chrysanthemums, same colours… ’ Looked round once more. ‘And left on the floor to decay. Go brown… ’
‘What does that mean?’
‘Whoever did this either grew them himself or bought them somewhere. I’m leaning towards growing them himself. There’s a… horticultural sense to the place. Those gardening tools over there… ’
Marina crossed to the workbench. Looked down at it, the tools on the surface. ‘Has any of this been disturbed?’
Phil crossed over, stood beside her. He could smell her perfume. Made him want to hold her. ‘I think one of the tools has been taken away for forensic examination. I asked them to leave the others for a bit.’
She nodded, lips moving all the time. She picked up the scythe, examined it slowly. ‘They’ve been… adapted. They’re not for gardening. Not been used for gardening in a very long time.’
‘My thoughts exactly.’
‘And this workbench… ’ She knelt down beside it, put her face to it. Sniffed the scarred, pitted surface, eyes closed. Remained in place afterwards. ‘Hmm… ’ Did it once more. ‘Earthy… but more… ’
She stood up, dusting down her skirt. Turned, looked at the wall behind her. Crossed to it. Examined the
