Joe took several images from a folder and handed them to Edmunds, who flicked through them in confusion.
‘It’s a tattoo.’
‘It’s a tattoo that she had removed. Very effectively, I might add. Metallic content from the ink is still visible through radiography, but the infrared image is even clearer.’
‘What is it?’ asked Edmunds as he flipped the image upside down.
‘Your job,’ smiled Joe.
Simmons had been sitting in his stifling office with the commander for over an hour, listening to her make her usual threats that she was only ever ‘passing on’ from above. She had then reiterated several times that she was on his side before criticising his detectives, his department as a whole, and his own ability to manage them. He could barely breathe in the windowless room and could feel his temper fraying as the temperature continued to soar.
‘I want DS Baxter suspended, Terrence.’
‘For what, precisely?’
‘Need I spell it out? She basically killed Jarred Garland herself with this, frankly ridiculous, plan.’
He was so tired of listening to the torrent of self-righteous poison that seemed to flow perpetually from this woman. He could feel sweat running down the side of his head and fanned himself with an incredibly important piece of paperwork.
‘She swears she knew nothing about it,’ said Simmons. ‘And I believe her.’
‘In which case she is incompetent at best,’ retorted Vanita.
‘Baxter’s one of my best detectives and is more dedicated to, and familiar with, this case than anybody – apart from Fawkes.’
‘Another of your impending catastrophes. Do you think I don’t know the consultant psychiatrist has advised that he take a step back from the case?’
‘Well, I’ve got a serial killer out there who, through the medium of terrifying corpse pointing through window, has expressed his expectation of Fawkes’ involvement,’ snapped Simmons, a little more harshly than he had intended.
‘Terrence, do yourself a favour. You need to show that you condemn Baxter’s reckless actions.’
‘She didn’t know! So what would you have suggested she do differently?’
He was losing his temper now. He just wanted to get out of the cramped little sweatbox.
‘For starters, I—’
‘Wait a minute, I don’t give a damn,’ he snarled, ‘because you have no idea what my team are dealing with out there, and how could you? You’re not a police officer.’
Vanita smirked at his uncharacteristic outburst.
‘And are you, Terrence? Really? Sat here in your little cupboard. You made a conscious decision to become a manager. You had best start acting like it.’
Simmons was momentarily derailed by her scathing remark. He had never thought of himself as being isolated from the rest of his team.
‘I will not suspend, reassign or even reprimand Baxter for doing her job and putting her life on the line today.’
Vanita got to her feet, revealing the full extent of her garish outfit.
‘We’ll see what the commissioner has to say about that. I’ve scheduled a press conference for five o’clock. We need to make a formal statement about what happened this morning.’
‘Do it your damn self,’ snapped Simmons, also getting to his feet.
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I will not be doing any more press conferences, listening to any more of your arse-covering politics or sitting in here on the phone while my colleagues are out there in harm’s way.’
‘Think very carefully before you continue.’
‘Oh, I’m not resigning. I’ve just got more useful things to be doing right now. You can see yourself out.’
Simmons slammed the door as he left. He cleared a space at Chambers’ empty desk and booted up the computer.
Baxter was at her desk by the time Edmunds returned to the office. He did a double-take as he passed Simmons, who was on the Internet researching Garland’s most controversial stories. Hurrying over to her, he gave her a hug and, astonishingly, she did not shy away.
‘I’ve been worried about you,’ he said as he took a seat.
‘I had to stick around until … for Garland.’
‘He really didn’t stand a chance,’ said Edmunds. He filled her in on his conversation with Joe and the discovery of the tattoo.
‘We need to start by—’
‘You need to start by,’ corrected Baxter. ‘I’m off the case.’
‘What?’
‘Simmons told me the commander’s pushing for my suspension. At the very least, I should expect to be reassigned by Monday. Simmons will take my place and Finlay’s agreed to babysit you.’
Edmunds had never seen Baxter so downtrodden. He was about to suggest that they get out of the office, take the infrared images around some tattoo parlours, when the scruffy internal mailman approached them.
‘DS Emily Baxter?’ he asked, holding a thin, handwritten envelope decorated with courier stickers.
‘That’s me.’
She took the envelope off him and was about to tear it open when she realised he was still staring at her.
‘Yes?’
‘Normally flowers I’m luggin’ up ’ere for you, ain’t it? Where are they all anyways?’
‘Bagged up as evidence, tested by forensics, and burned after they killed a man,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘Thanks for bringing them up here though.’
Edmunds smirked as the dumbfounded man turned and swaggered away without another word. Baxter ripped the envelope open. A thin coil of magnesium dropped out onto the desk. She and Edmunds shared a concerned look, and he passed her a pair of disposable gloves. She pulled out a photograph of her climbing into the back of the ambulance alongside Garland’s stretcher. It had been taken from the perspective of the large crowd that had gathered to watch the ensuing chaos outside the hotel. A message had been scrawled on the back of the picture: If you won’t play by the rules, neither shall I.
‘He’s getting closer, just like you said he would,’ said Baxter.
‘He can’t help himself,’ said Edmunds as he closely examined the photograph.
‘It’s properly punctuated.’
‘Not too big a surprise. He’s obviously well educated,’ said Edmunds.
‘“If you won’t play by the rules, neither shall I”,’ Baxter read aloud.
‘I don’t buy it.’
‘You don’t think it’s him?’
‘Oh, I think it’s him. I just don’t buy it. I wasn’t going to bring this up today with all you’ve been through but—’
‘I’m fine,’ insisted Baxter.
‘Something isn’t right. Why would he murder Garland a day earlier than he said?’
‘To punish us. To punish Wolf for not being there.’
‘That’s what he wants us to think. But he’s gone back on his word at the expense of a perfect score sheet. He would see this as a failure on his part.’
‘What’s your point?’
‘Something spooked him into murdering Garland early. He panicked. Either we got too close or he genuinely believed that he wouldn’t be able to get to Garland tomorrow.’
‘He was going into witness protection.’
‘So was Rana before Elizabeth Tate got to him first. Besides, no one but you knew that’s where he was going. So, what was different?’
‘Me? I was in charge. Neither the team or Wolf were involved.’
‘Exactly.’