Kelly took out her chewing gum and dropped it into a bin. Having left home early, if she loitered any more she was in danger of being late, and that was hardly going to endear her to Nick Rampello. She took a deep breath, pushed up her chin, and walked briskly to the door she’d stood in front of on Friday, her umbrella doing little to protect her from the drizzle that seemed to be coming at her horizontally.
Wanting to make a good impression on her first day, Kelly had instinctively reached for her suit that morning, before feeling the coldness of an unwelcome memory. She had worn it for her disciplinary hearing; she could still feel the woollen cuffs scratching her wrists as she stood outside the chief’s office, waiting to be called in.
The reminder had made her nauseous. She had taken the suit off the hanger and bundled it into a bin bag to go to the charity shop, wearing instead her striped shirt with a pair of wide grey trousers that were now dark with rainwater where they met her shoes. Even without the sartorial prompt of the suit, Kelly was assaulted by memories, appearing in reverse order, like a film on rewind. Her return to shift; slinking into that first briefing with her cheeks ablaze, the echo of gossip reverberating in the air. Her months away from work; days on end in her room, unwashed and uncaring, waiting for a disciplinary hearing that could have ended her career. The sound of the alarm, signifying a crisis in custody; an urgent need for support. Running feet; not coming to back her up but to pull her off.
There were no images of the assault flashing in her head. There never had been. During her anger management classes Kelly had been encouraged to talk about the incident; to walk her counsellor through what had happened, what had triggered it.
‘I don’t remember,’ she’d explained. One minute she’d been interviewing the prisoner; the next … the custody alarm. She didn’t know what had caused her to lose control so horrifically; she had no memory of it.
‘That’s good though, isn’t it?’ Lexi had said, when she’d come to visit Kelly after a particularly difficult anger management session. ‘It’ll make it easier to move on from it. Forget it even happened.’
Kelly had buried her face in her pillow. It wasn’t easier to move on. It was harder. Because if she didn’t know what had caused her to lose control, how could she be certain it wouldn’t happen again?
She pressed the buzzer for MIT and waited, huddled inside the shallow doorway, out of the rain. A disembodied voice rang out on to the street.
‘Hello?’
‘It’s Kelly Swift. I’m here on secondment to Op FURNISS.’
‘Come on up, Kelly!’
Kelly recognised Lucinda’s voice and her nerves abated a little. This was a clean slate, she reminded herself; a chance to start again, to prove herself without being judged on her past. She took the lift, walking into MIT without any of the hesitation of her previous visit. A nod of recognition from one of the team – Bob, she remembered, just too late to greet him by name – buoyed her mood, and when Lucinda bobbed up from behind her desk, Kelly was reassured further.
‘Welcome to the madhouse.’
‘Thanks – I think. Is the DI around?’
‘He went out for a run.’
‘In this weather?’
‘That’s the DI for you. He’s expecting you, though; Diggers sent an email round yesterday, letting us know.’
Kelly tried to read Lucinda’s expression. ‘How did it go down?’
‘With Nick?’ She laughed. ‘Oh, you know Nick. Well, I guess you don’t. Look, the DI’s great, but he’s not good with authority. If it had been his idea to have a BTP officer on secondment, he’d be all smiles. As it is, Diggers and he don’t exactly see eye to eye, so …’ Lucinda stopped. ‘It’ll be fine. Now, let me show you where you’ll be working.’
At that moment the door opened and DI Rampello came in. He wore shorts and a Gore-Tex T-shirt; a lightweight fluorescent jacket zipped part way up his chest. He pulled his earphones out and balled them up, rolling them into a pair of Lycra gloves. Water dripped on to the floor.
‘What’s it like out?’ Lucinda said casually.
‘Lovely,’ Nick said. ‘Almost tropical.’ He headed for the locker rooms without acknowledging Kelly, who envied Lucinda her easy relationship with the DI.
She had switched on her computer and was looking for the piece of paper with the temporary log-in Lucinda had given her, when Nick returned, a white shirt sticking to his still-damp back, and a rolled-up tie in one hand. He slung his jacket over the chair next to Kelly.
‘I’m not sure whether to be pissed off that you went to the DCI after I’d already said no to this attachment, or to admire your negotiation skills. In the interest of working relationships, I’ll go for the latter.’ He grinned and stuck out his free hand towards her. ‘Welcome on board.’
‘Thank you.’ Kelly felt herself relax.
‘So you’re an old friend of the DCI’s, I hear?’
‘Not a friend, no. He was my DI on the Sexual Offences Unit.’