I trailed off inquiringly.
“David Moran. Nice to meet you too.” We shook, and a smile quirked at the corner of David’s mouth. Was it my imagination, or was that a hint of flirtation? He was tall, and very good-looking, with an Irish accent. Glancing automatically at his hand, I saw there was no wedding ring there, though that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Lots of officers took rings off when they were on duty. Still, married or not, I didn’t think I was imagining the flash of interest in David’s expression, and maybe I could turn that to my advantage.
“The officer on reception told me which way to go,” I said, putting a touch of chagrin into my expression and smiling back at David. “And then of course I immediately forgot what they said. It’s quite the place you’ve got here, and I’ve never been able to keep a chain of directions in my head.”
“Yeah, it is a bit of a labyrinth.” David glanced down at his watch, and then seemed to make up his mind. “Look, d’you want me to show you to the custody suite?”
“Are you sure? That would be amazing.”
“No bother. I’m supposed to be in a meeting in ten but I’ve got time to take you there first. So, what’s Eltham Green like? I hear old Patterson’s a bit of a…” He trailed off, grinning, with one eyebrow raised, and I laughed and let my arm brush his elbow as we rounded the corner.
“Yeah, ‘bit of a…’ is right. I’m not gonna lie, I prefer working for women. My old boss was a woman.”
“Yeah? Me too,” David said. “I think they bring a better energy to the team.”
We continued talking as David led me along a corridor I recognized, and then one I didn’t, landing us up at a reinforced door with a bell push and a swipe card reader. He touched his pass briefly to the reader, pulled open the door, and ushered me inside.
“Hi, Jake,” he said to the officer on duty at the desk. “This is Kate Lederer from Eltham. Here to conduct an interview. Well, Kate, I’ll leave you in Jake’s capable hands, but nice to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you too,” I said, smiling at him. I watched as the door closed behind me, and then turned back to the officer he’d called Jake, mentally preparing myself for what I was about to say. I didn’t have time to do more than open my mouth, though, before my earpiece crackled and an apologetic voice came over my headset.
“Jack? I’m so sorry to ring you at work, darling, but she’s just thrown up everywhere.”
Fuck.
“Sorry,” I mouthed at the officer behind the desk. “One second.”
I turned my back to him and touched my finger to the headset, hoping Jake would think I was taking a work call.
“Verity, I’m so sorry, this is a really bad time. Can I call you back? We’re talking ten minutes, tops.”
“Of course, darling. I did think about not bothering you, but you did ask me to call…”
“I know. And I’m glad you did. Has she got a temperature?”
In the background I could hear a high, throbbing wail that made my breasts suddenly swell agonizingly with milk. Shit. I hitched at the borrowed trousers, conscious that they were starting to sag. They must have come unrolled on the walk to the custody suite.
“Who did you say you were here to see?” said Jake’s voice from behind me, a touch of suspicion in his tone now, and I cursed under my breath and tried to press one arm to the trousers, which were inching perceptibly further down my hips.
“One sec, Jake.”
“I don’t think she’s got a fever,” Verity was saying, a little doubtfully. “John and I had a go with the ear thermometer, but she had a bit of a paddy about having something in her ear, and we couldn’t keep her still long enough to get a reading. She doesn’t feel hot.”
“Okay. Thank you, Verity, and please don’t worry. I’ll head home now. See you shortly.”
I touched the headset and then turned back to Jake.
“Right, change of plan. I’m not here to see a suspect, I’m not actually a cop, this was a pen test organized by Detective Inspector Habiba Malik.”
“It’s a what?” Jake said, looking a mixture of outraged and annoyed. “Wait, did you say you’re not an officer?”
“Jack!” I heard from behind me, and I turned to see Malik walking through the doors of the custody suite, a big smile on her face. “How on earth did you get in here? And—” Her expression changed to one of puzzlement, and then to an outright frown. “Wait, is that one of our uniforms?”
“Yes,” I said. “You really need to tell your staff not to use 1234 for their locker combinations. Also, there’s a bag stowed behind the bin in the locker room which could have been full of explosives but definitely isn’t, so if you could tell your staff not to call the bomb squad, that would be great. I need it to get home.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.” I was shrugging off the jacket. “I’m sorry, Gabby’s not well. I thought about canceling but I didn’t want to let you down. I’ve got enough for the report.”
“If you got in here in full uniform, then I bet you have.” Malik looked considerably put out. “Oh bloody hell. I really thought you wouldn’t get past the front desk.”
I smiled, sympathetic but not trying to hide my triumph.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m afraid you owe me that drink.”
“Ugh. Anything else?”
“Just the usual. Don’t let your staff buzz people through. Don’t let secured doors swing shut behind you without checking they’re actually closed. Definitely don’t reuse passwords.”
“Reuse…? Oh God, Jack, do I want to know?”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t look at anything sensitive.” I gave her a one-armed hug and hitched again at the borrowed trousers. “Right, sorry, I have to get going. I need to return this uniform and retrieve my bag before one of your staff blows it up in a controlled explosion.”
“I wish,” Malik said with a groan. “It sounds like it could have had a ticking clock pasted to the top and they wouldn’t have noticed, judging by everything else. Go on then, get out of here. Give Gabby a squeeze from me. No… hang on.” She seemed to remember something. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
“Do you not trust me to get off the property?” I said, laughing, and she shook her head.
“No, it’s not that. There’s something… something I’ve been meaning to tell you. Look, give me five minutes and I’ll meet you in the locker room. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said, a little puzzled, and then Malik buzzed me out of the custody suite.
* * *
MALIK CAUGHT UP TO ME in the locker room a few minutes later, but we were all the way out to my car when I finally said, “Well, you said you had something to say. So spit it out, whatever it is. I have to get going.”
“I know,” Malik said. She looked grave. “It’s—well, it’s actually two things. I’m not sure…” She stopped, and I felt a flicker of alarm pass through me. Habiba Malik and I were something close to friends now, but after what had happened last year, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be completely comfortable in the company of the police.
“Look, what is it? You’re worrying me.”
“It’s Cole Garrick,” she said, turning to me. Her face in the sharp February light looked older than it had when we first met, fine lines around the corners of her eyes. “He—well, he’s died, in jail. Awaiting trial.”
“Fuck.” I had been trying not to swear so much, for Gabby, but now the word slipped out of its own volition, and honestly there wasn’t anything else I could think of saying, so I repeated it. “Fuck. So he’ll never stand trial?”
“No. I’m so sorry. They had him in protective custody, as you know, but evidently he found a way…”
“He found a way? Are you saying he did this to himself?”
Malik shrugged.
“He was found hanging. How you interpret that…”
“Fuck,” I said again. I pressed my fingers to my eyes. Images flickered through my head—Cole on the beach at Brighton, laughing and diving through the waves. Cole on the balcony of his apartment, drinking dirty martinis and grilling giant prawns on the barbecue. Cole’s face in the candlelight of the cottage, his lips on mine. His expression that last time I had seen him, in the darkness of the penthouse, his features twisted with anger and despair. His voice: Stay back or I will shoot you, Jack.
Would he have done it? I still didn’t know.
“I’m sorry.” I heard Malik’s voice as though from very far away. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. It isn’t what we wanted. We wanted to see justice done.”
Justice. The word had a sour taste in my mouth. Some might argue it was a kind of justice, what had happened to Cole. A life for a life. All I knew was it didn’t feel like it to me.
“What about the people behind him?” I said now. “Do they think… did they do this?”