FIFTY-EIGHT
‘I swear to God, Travis, if he says “no comment” one more time I’m gonna…’
‘Hold your tongue and stay calm,’ he said.
‘But, we’re getting nothing from him.’
‘Yeah, since you mentioned his daughter,’ Travis snarled.
‘But it was the only reaction we got.’
Travis shook his head. ‘And then the next twenty questions you asked about his daughter rattled him even more, and then the brief shut you down. At least while he was answering there was the opportunity he’d trip himself up, but we’re now down to two-word answers and it’s the same two words.’
She knew he had a point.
‘Jesus, why do I feel like this case is going on without us?’ she asked, leaning against the same wall as Travis.
They were only waiting for Cowley’s refreshment break to end before having another crack at him.
‘I can’t go back in,’ Kim said, honestly. ‘Take one of the others in, or I’m going to do something I’ll regret.’
His head turned sharply.
She shook her head. That hadn’t been a dig.
‘I think it’s a good idea,’ he said.
‘Can you get a lift home?’ she asked.
‘Of course; I never asked you to be my chauffeur.’
Kim ached to respond to his snarkiness, but a picture of Woody came into her mind.
‘I’ll pick you up in the morning,’ she said, walking away.
She headed out of the building right into the cold air and a man dressed from head to toe in leather.
‘Inspector, just the person,’ said Bart Preece, removing his helmet.
She looked beyond him to the Ecosse parked beside her Golf.
What the hell was one of the Preece boys doing here?
‘Surely you’re off-duty now,’ he said with a lopsided grin.
‘You’re joking?’ she asked, walking towards the bike.
He shrugged as he placed the helmet under his arm and reached for the keys. ‘You seemed to appreciate it yesterday. Thought you might like to take it for a spin.’
Kim laughed. ‘Yeah and you might never see it again.’
She appraised it beneath the street light in its full titanium glory. Oh, how she would love to place her behind on that gel seat and feel the MotoGP spec ?hlins suspension.
He laughed with her. ‘Inspector, you are an officer of the law. I trust you to bring it back.’
She leaned down to get a closer look at the front wheel.
‘A brake pad for each piston?’ she asked.
He nodded. ‘Handles like a dream,’ he said, touching the handlebar.
She walked around it, appreciating the beauty.
‘Multi adjustable riding position,’ he said, tipping his head. ‘Best experience you can have on two wheels.’
Kim nodded. She didn’t doubt it.
‘You got one?’ he asked.
‘An Ecosse?’ she asked with her eyes wide open.
He laughed out loud. ‘A motorbike.’
‘Ninja,’ she said, stroking the seat.
‘Nice,’ he said, nodding appreciatively.
She looked for signs of condescension and found none. Yes, the Ninja was a nice bike but the difference between the two was like a Timex and a Rolex. They were both watches and they both told the time. And there the similarity ended.
‘Okay, just start her up and let me hear…’
Her words trailed away as the doors to the station opened behind her.
Travis appeared with a constable.
He stopped dead as he took in the scene before him.
‘I’m heading to Russells Hall,’ he said, urgently. ‘Our accident survivor is conscious.’ He looked to Bart and then back to her. ‘He’s asked to see me. Feel free to join us when you’re done.’
He sprinted towards a squad car.
She looked to the bike and groaned. Not that she would have taken it for a ride but she wasn’t quite done looking at it yet.
‘Sorry, I’ve got to…’
‘Of course,’ Bart said, reaching for his helmet.
She began to walk away and then turned. ‘But thank you. It was a lovely thought.’
He nodded and clicked down his visor.
As Kim got into the Golf and started the engine she took one more look at the bike, strangely relieved that they had been interrupted.
Her gaze moved to Bart Preece, standing lazily beside the bike.
Yes, very relieved indeed.
FIFTY-NINE
Stacey forced back the tears into her aching throat.
It wasn’t the issue about her colour. She was black, proud and happy with herself. It was the fact that, in trying to keep her out of something, Dawson and Bryant had inadvertently started treating her differently, excluding her. That was something she’d suffered all her life.
She jumped on the bus and took the last window seat available. The next stop was right outside a trading estate well known for low-level drug deals. She placed her arm over Justin’s laptop protruding from her bag and edged closer to the condensation-covered window.
She looked away as a line of people streamed onto the bus. Eye contact could be viewed as an invitation, and she didn’t feel like company right now.
Her eyes immediately began to fill again. She didn’t even acknowledge the form that slid into the seat next to her.
She sniffed back the tears.
‘Hey, are you okay?’ asked a gentle voice beside her.
She turned and saw the pleasant smiling face of a man in his early thirties. He wore overalls and a beanie hat. He placed his jacket between them so their thighs didn’t touch.
‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she said, thrilled that she had showed this stranger her watery, bloodshot eyes and snotty nose.
‘If it helps any, I’ve had a shit day too.’
‘It doesn’t, but thanks anyway,’ she said, hearing the tremor in her voice.
Stacey felt frustrated by her own emotions. It wasn’t only her colleagues – she knew that. It was their insensitivity, in addition to the vile, disgusting articles she’d been posting all day. She tried to remember a day that she had felt less of a minority.
‘So, the boss says to me, “that new clutch you fitted is slipping”.’
Stacey hadn’t realised the man beside her had continued speaking. And more importantly, he was explaining about his shit day at work. She ignored him and turned back to the window. Attractive or not, she wasn’t in the mood for small talk.
It didn’t help that her boss wasn’t around. Kim would have banged her colleagues’ heads together and they would all have got on with the case at hand. Her colour would not have been mentioned again, and it wouldn’t have needed to be.
‘So, I test the car and my boss is having a laugh. There’s nothing wrong with that clutch plate but he wants me to spend four hours stripping it back down.’
‘Mmm…’ Stacey said, to avoid being totally rude.
‘So, do you know what I did?’ he asked, nudging her conspiratorially.
She shook her head and edged more against the window.
‘I lay underneath the car with a spanner. Every few minutes I made a noise or swore but I was checking the football scores.’
‘Clever,’ she said, without emotion.