50
Gormley’s blue Peugeot was parked in his favoured spot near the back door, the one he collared most days on account of the fact that, after Daniels, he was almost always first to arrive at the station. And he was the last man standing too, pretty much. From there he could make a quick getaway at a moment’s notice. Though it was getting on for ten years old, the car was his pride and joy. The registration, DS 3459, was the number Julie had bought him when he made detective sergeant, when they were still very much in love – 3459 being his police number.
‘Why do we do it, Hank?’ Daniels said as they got in the car.
‘Do what?’ Gormley slammed his door shut, strapped himself in. He put his key in the ignition and fired up the engine. ‘Flirt with the wrong people?’
‘I wasn’t flirting! Neither was he!’
‘Oh yeah? He practically had his tongue down your throat!’
Daniels fastened her seat belt as he pulled hard on the wheel, swinging the car right as he reversed. Stopping briefly at the security barrier, he tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel waiting for the red-and-white pole to lift. As soon as his exit was clear, he accelerated sharply, turning left out of the car park. On the open road he put his foot down, apparently as keen as she was to get the hell away from the office for once. Even he had a limit. From the look of him, he’d reached it.
A couple of kids on unlit push bikes crossed the road in front of them within inches of the car. Gormley blasted his horn. They responded with wheelies along the pavement, scattering a crowd of pedestrians making their way home from a local chippy, at least one of them losing their supper as a result. Gormley scowled at the kids as he drove by.
‘Give us a clue, boss. I’ve no idea what you’re on about.’
‘I meant why do we fuck with each other’s lives?’ Daniels said. ‘Maggie and Mark Reid looked so happy in the photograph I found in his flat. Baby on the way. Everything to look forward to. Then within a few months they’ve separated. Moved on. Don’t people ever stop to consider what they’re doing these days?’
‘For some the grass is always—’
‘Greener, yeah I know. But it isn’t, though, is it?’
Gormley glanced to his left. ‘You still talking about Mark and Maggie Reid?’
Daniels went quiet. It was late. They were both too exhausted to get into a deep and meaningful. In less than seven hours they’d be making their way back to the MIR for another long shift. Tonight’s briefing had signified a move in the right direction and they couldn’t afford to lose momentum. If anything, they needed to up their game.
They drove the rest of the way in silence, no more than a ten-minute ride. Pulling up outside her house, Gormley yanked on the handbrake, almost taking it off its ratchet. He let the engine idle as she grabbed the door handle in readiness to get out. Unusually, he declined an invitation to join her for a quick drink, making an excuse that his wife would most probably be waiting up to finish the argument she’d started at the breakfast table.
‘You know Julie . . .’ he said. ‘Never likes to see anything half done.’
Behind his tired eyes Daniels saw pain. The same pain she’d been feeling since having a go at Jo earlier. She wasn’t fooled by his attempt to make light of his marital problems and suddenly felt guilty for keeping him so late. Sorry that another ‘perfect couple’ weren’t getting on. From what he’d told her – which wasn’t much – unless he could pull off a miraculous recovery, his marriage was as good as over.
For fuck’s sake, what was wrong with everyone?
Daniels got out of the car. Ducking her head, she peered back in and tried not to sound as down in the dumps or as tired as she felt. Late at night things often seemed worse than they actually were. Hopefully, a few hours’ kip would see them both back on track. She said goodnight and thanked him for the lift home.
‘You wouldn’t have got rid of Cole as easy.’
It wasn’t like Gormley to be so familiar. Daniels debated telling him to keep his nose out of her personal business, but the dynamics between them had shifted lately. She was no longer simply his DCI, he her DS. They’d grown much closer since she’d confided in him about her feelings for Jo. Or, to be more accurate, since he’d discovered their affair and confronted her with it. At the time he’d taken her silence personally. Hurt by what he saw as a betrayal, he’d accused her of not trusting him enough to be honest about who, or what, she really was. But Daniels hated labels. She didn’t need the distraction that everyone knowing her business would bring. Hell, she didn’t even know who she was any more. Why should Gormley? Did he think she needed protection from herself now? That she was no longer capable of making the right choices?
She forced a smile. ‘What have I told you about acting like my dad?’
‘Whatever!’ Like a petulant teenager, he stared out at the dark leafy terrace through the Peugeot’s front windscreen. Pressing her lips together tightly, Daniels resisted the temptation to laugh out loud and managed to recover as he turned back to face her. But what he said next made her angry.
‘You do what you want, Kate. You will anyway.’
‘Hey! What is your problem? You’re my DS, not my personal minder.’
And still he wouldn’t let it go. ‘Just don’t come crying to me if it all goes pear-shaped.’ Looking in the rear-view mirror, he engaged first gear. ‘Pick you up tomorrow?’
‘No! I’ll ride in.’
‘Not speaking to me now?’
‘Of course I am, you idiot. I fancy bringing my bike, that’s all.’
He blipped the accelerator and raced off into the night.