Page 123 of First Blood
He wasn’t sure what to say. He’d never met anyone who didn’t do Christmas in one form or another. He thought back to the little he’d learned of her past and wondered just how much more there was to know. He knew one thing. If she didn’t tell him he’d remain in the dark, and somehow he didn’t think she was the confiding type.
‘Ha, missus would kill me if I volunteered. Plans it by the hour from present opening at eight in the morning to cold meat buffet at eight on Christmas night. There’s a programme of events on the kitchen…’
‘You’re kidding?’
He smiled. ‘Yeah, I’m probably worse than she is, truth be known. But I don’t drink, so although it’s more than my life is worth to volunteer myself, if I happened to get called out in an emergency, you know, it’d be fine.’
She met his gaze and understood. If she was called out and needed a second, he’d be there.
She took a sip of her coffee. ‘So, your wife know you’re visiting the homes of other women during the day?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, she told me to come and as I want to stay happily married there are few things she suggests that I don’t do.’
She laughed out loud. It was the first time he’d heard the sound. He liked it.
‘It’s not gonna become a habit though, is it, Bryant?’
He shook his head. ‘I shouldn’t think so, Kim.’
Chapter One Hundred Fifteen
DCI Woodward read through his page-a-day diary as he waited for his first meeting of the day.
List-making was a habit he’d formed early in his career. He liked to see things on paper, written down. Any task, however small, got noted and transferred to the master list in his diary. As he completed the tasks a satisfying line was drawn through the item and no shift was deemed complete until he had carried over the items not accomplished to the following day. It served many purposes not least of which it showed him any tasks he was either consciously or subconsciously avoiding by the number of times it had been transferred to the following day.
The meeting at 7a.m. with DI Stone he was expecting but the impromptu request for a chat by one of her officers had taken him by surprise. Did this team member want out already?
A double knock sounded on the door.
‘Come in, DS Bryant,’ he called out.
Although he’d never worked with this officer before he’d heard nothing but praise for his work ethic, his reliability and his impeccable judgement. A good pairing with Stone, he thought.
The man entered looking smart, alert and ready to start another week. All good except for the pensive expression on his face.
‘Please take a seat, Bryant.’
‘I’m fine standing, sir. I won’t take up much of your time. I just need to ask you about something that’s been bothering me.’
Woody sat back in his chair. ‘Please, ask away.’
Was the man wondering how he had ended up on this team? Did he want to know if he had been requested? Was he wondering how quickly a transfer request would take?
‘I saw a photo, sir, earlier in the week. It was an old photo of a six-year-old girl being carried from Chaucer House on Hollytree, right behind the body bag of her dead brother. There were police officers all around and one in particular that looked just like you.’
Surprised by the question he stood and moved to the window, considering his answer carefully.
Yes, he had been there when the door had been broken down into the flat on the seventh floor. The stench of the dead body had hit him immediately but little had he known that there was a little girl attached to the decaying body of her brother.
At first he had thought she was dead too but her eyes had opened, stark with fear and then closed again. He had immediately known that she was close to death herself and he had not been prepared for the fight that had come from her thin, emaciated body when they had first tried to remove her dead twin from her side. No amount of soothing would comfort her until she passed out from exhaustion. When she came to her brother was gone. And he would never forget the look on her face as she turned to the empty space beside her.
Both the incident and the name of the girl had remained at the back of his mind and had been brought to the fore almost fourteen years ago when he had read about the bravery of a young female officer who had risked her own life by entering a service station to assist the owner who had been injured during a robbery. She hadn’t known if the assailant was still present but she had entered anyway. The sixty-two-year-old man had lived to tell the tale and she had received a commendation.
He had attended the award ceremony to see her. She had not turned up.
Since then he had followed her career with interest. He had raised a glass when she joined CID and another two following her promotions. What he hadn’t celebrated was her inability to gel with any kind of team for longer than a case or two. Something in him had wanted to see that level of stability in her life, but she had bounced into almost every station in the borough and bounced right back out again. Except for Halesowen. When he’d heard about her most recent run-in he’d requested her presence on his team. He hadn’t had to shout loudly or more than once to get his wish.
He took a breath, turned to the sergeant and opened his mouth. ‘Bryant, I—’
