‘I’m just off to the hospital. See Anni. Find out what’s happening with the kid.’
‘Right. We’ll catch up later. Give my regards to Anni.’ Mickey didn’t know if Phil had heard, but he did hear the volume on the music being pushed back up as the call was broken. Midlake. Definitely. Or Band of Horses.
Mickey turned, making his way back into the building. Nearly jumped out of his skin.
Glass was standing right behind him.
Mickey actually clutched his chest. ‘God… ’
Glass smiled. ‘Just me.’
Mickey said nothing. Tried to walk past him. Glass put a restraining hand on his chest.
‘Just a moment, Detective Sergeant.’
Mickey stopped, waited. He really disliked the man. The previous one had been bad enough, but Glass… He should have been perfect. Mickey should have responded well to him. A straight-down-the line copper. No- nonsense. But he hadn’t. Maybe he had worked with Phil too long. Adopted his methods.
‘Who was that on the phone? DI Brennan?’
Mickey knew it was a bad idea to lie. Even if he didn’t want to tell the truth. ‘Yes, sir.’
Glass nodded, as if a suspicion was confirmed. ‘And why did you have to call him out here? Isn’t the office good enough?’
‘Don’t know, sir. I had something to tell him. This felt like the best way.’
‘And what would that be, Detective Sergeant?’
Mickey knew he was taking a chance with what he was about to say, but he said it anyway. ‘I’m afraid I can’t tell you, sir. DI Brennan asked me to look into an aspect of the investigation that was potentially… sensitive. I was following his orders.’
Glass clearly didn’t like the answer but had to accept it. He nodded, face unhappy. ‘And where is DI Brennan now?’
Mickey had to tell the truth this time. No option. ‘On his way to the hospital.’
‘Thank you.’
Mickey made to go. Glass stopped him again.
‘You’re a first-rate detective. Don’t let certain… associations come before achieving your potential. Do you understand what I’m saying, Detective Sergeant?’
‘I think so, sir. But I’d better get back to work.’
He walked back into the building, trying to put the encounter, and Glass’s disturbing final words, out of his mind.
Focus on finding out everything he could about Richard Shaw.
Doing his job, he thought, would be the best way to achieve his potential.
But Glass’s words were still in his mind…
62
‘Don? You OK?’
He kept advancing towards her. Marina felt her heart quicken. This wasn’t the Don she knew.
‘Don… ’
He reached her. ‘What are you doing in here, Marina?’
‘Looking for you.’ Her voice a lot more level and calm than she felt.
He looked behind her at the door. She caught the look, knew immediately what he was thinking. A self-locking handle. She hadn’t locked it. She made swift mental calculations, adding up whether she could turn, beat him to it.
Get out into the corridor. Run.
Then another voice entered her head. Muddied her thinking.
‘Did they send you?’ Don’s voice low, hard.
‘Did who send me, Don?’
‘Them,’ he said. ‘Glass and… and that lot.’
‘No. No one sent me. I just came looking for you. I wanted to talk to you.’
He stopped. Frowned. ‘Why? What about?’
‘Phil,’ she said.
At the mention of his adoptive son, Don sighed. The tension leaving his body, his shoulders sagging, legs bending. No threat in him any more. More like the old man she knew, Marina thought.
‘So you know, then.’ His voice tired.
‘Know what? Don, I wish I did.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I wish he’d tell me what’s wrong. There’s something going on with him. Something… not right,’ said Marina. ‘At first I thought it was us. Me. Me and him, I mean, our relationship. But it’s not that. It’s more than just that.’
He moved nearer to her. The overhead light flickering, glinting off his eyes.
Marina moved backwards. ‘Were you going to hurt me when I came in here, Don?’
He looked surprised. ‘Hurt you? Good God, no. Why would I want to hurt you, Marina?’
‘I don’t know. You tell me. It looked like I’d interrupted you in the middle of something that you didn’t want me to know about. Looked like you were pretty angry about it.’
‘Oh. That.’ Don gave a shamefaced smile. ‘Sorry.’ He patted his side, beneath his jacket. ‘Needed a bit of… extra reading. Not strictly speaking legal extra reading.’
Marina returned the smile. ‘I see. Just don’t do it again.’
‘I’m sorry. I won’t. But you have to be careful in here. Have to know who you can trust and who… who… you know.’
‘And who
‘I’m sorry. Of course I can trust you. I’m sorry.’
They stood looking at each other, saying nothing. The only sound in the records room the fizzing and spitting of the overhead strips.
‘You wanted to talk to me about Phil,’ said Don eventually, his voice carrying the weight of the world within it.
‘Yes, I do.’
He shook his head. ‘Where to start?’ He gave a quick look round as if fearful of being overheard, leaned in close to her. ‘D’you know anywhere round here that does coffee? Good coffee, I mean. Not the failed biological warfare experiments they serve in the machines in here.’
‘Yeah. I do. Want to go?’
‘I think that’s a good idea. And then I can tell you. About Phil… ’
63
Donna screamed.
Felt her arm being wrenched from its socket, pushed hard up her back. Heard – and felt – the tearing sound through her body. She screamed again. The pain increased.
‘Yeah,’ said the copper’s voice between gasps, ‘that’s it. On your knees now, bitch.’
And that did it. That one word.
Donna hated it. Refused to hear it. Certainly wouldn’t let a punter get away with saying it, no matter how much he paid her. Well, maybe she had done in the past, when she’d been desperate, but she had insisted on extra. Up
