Cillian shuffled on the spot and gently dragged Rebecca to the side. “Uh, sir. There are some people here to see you,” he informed slowly and let us be.
I half expected a bunch of reporters or officers taking statements to walk around the ambulance doors. Instead, what I saw was the most comforting sight I’d had all night long. It was a petite and slim woman, with crazily frizzy ginger hair. They kind of matched the flames, that’s how bright they were.
“McCall,” I breathed out in relief and we ignored the ambulance team when they tried to advise us against hugging. She wrapped herself around me and squeezed tightly, not giving a damn about their suggestions.
“I told you that you’re a stupid man, didn’t I, Finlay Cooper?” She ordered bossily into my ear, but we both knew she was relieved to see I was alright.
“Thank you,” I struggled to talk properly, too overcome with a wave of emotion. Tonight had given me gratitude for those who cared wholeheartedly for me and who I cared for in return. “For the backup and--”
“Stop it,” she reluctantly let go and took a step back to examine me. I could see the hint of tears in her shockingly blue eyes. “You don’t have to thank me. I’m just glad you’re okay. We thought it was you in that fire and… yeah.” She trailed off. “I’ve learned to always do the opposite of what you tell me to do.”
McCall greeted DC Taylor in a similar fashion and wiped the grit from his chiselled jawline. Had I heard correctly?
“We?” I asked and tried to see past her figure.
“I couldn’t exactly rush out of your home without bringing Abbey along,” McCall said as if it was obvious. Sure enough, Abbey soon stepped around the ambulance door nervously and full of hesitance. Her bottom lip jutted out and whimpered whilst she tried to conceal her sobs. “She thought you’d been hurt in there. I tried to convince her that you were fine but she had a hard time trusting it. She wanted to see for herself.” I could see the redness of Abbey’s skin and tear stains that had ruined her makeup from afar.
“Finlay?” she stuttered as if I wasn’t standing in front of her.
Without saying a word, I paced over to where she stood and pulled her into the tightest hug of my life. It was filled with even more despair than the one McCall and I had shared. Smelling her sweet showering of perfume and feeling the dampness of her hair from the rain was something I’d needed to do for a while.
“Finlay,” she sobbed out of relief and I reached out like a baby to grip her jacket. We both leaned in for a sentimental kiss, full of mud, tears and blood from where my lip had been cut. Her curvaceous figure blurred from my abnormal display of crying, and she lunged into my awaiting arms. I needed somebody, anybody to be by my side and fill the space that DCI Reid had created.
There was a newfound, certain fragility to my personality; one which dowsed my heart into a vat of sentimental memories. It physically ached, if hearts can do such a thing.
“You’re covered in dirt,” she sniffed and her hands brushed away the specks of dusty concrete littering my clothes.
“Abbey,” I gulped and hid away from the world, away from life, away from DCI Reid’s actions and consequences. A medical expert intervened and handed her a crappy blanket as though that could patch things up. “It was only a couple of days ago we saw him alive,” Abbey wavered unhelpfully, threatening to throw a wobbly too. She rarely had to be strong for my sake. “God, we were having dinner with his wife.”
“I’m sorry,” DC Taylor and McCall settled themselves across from showing. “It’s horrific. I had no idea--” He wrapped a comforting arm around McCall’s shoulders.
We stayed as we were for a while longer, holding our loved ones as tightly as possible. DCI Reid’s words still echoed around my head, about love and commitment. At this moment here, I could see how some people would do anything for the ones they loved.
“That video you sent me will go towards their cases,” McCall eventually shared and delved into the case details, “and that includes Judge Jake Ramsey. You’re lucky they talked about him on the recording.”
The video. I’d completely forgotten about that. “My phone, it was broken,” I frowned confusedly. “It wouldn’t send,” I shook and tried to recall the events in order, sensing that my mind had jumbled the memories.
“Don’t try to think too much sir,” DC Taylor advised. “That’ll be the shock that’s making it harder.”
“I got the recording in the end, and we can safely say they’ll be going down for a while. They've got murder, robbery and drug charges against them. I’d like to see them wriggle out of it all,” McCall assured me. “The video is safe and sound, as you are. I wouldn’t forgive myself if anything had happened to you.”
“Don’t,” I pleaded, feeling guilty for DCI Reid’s death. I knew it wasn’t my fault, but that didn’t stop the millions of questions that raced through my head. All the torturous ‘what ifs and ‘whys?’ How could I feel his loss, but yet not quite trust that he was gone entirely? A part of me was convinced that DCI Reid would show up at the office one day soon, smoking his uninhibited cigarette and swigging mouthfuls of Irish coffees that he’d made on the sly.
The last of the raging fire cracked in the distance, leaving behind only the burnt embers of a horrific act committed by a respected member of our own station. I made a silent vow that nobody would forget DCI Reid’s early days of serious police work and the days when he began to climb up the ranks. Of the days when he tried his best
