Read Online Harrigan and Grace - 01 - Blood Redemption by Alex Palmer - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Alex Palmer
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was doing, stopped. She wondered if he would ask her about it, people did from time to time. There was no point in Harrigan asking her anything: she had no explanations to give, not to anyone, ever. Eight years ago, an ex-lover had held her down and cut that scar into her neck in a few short moments which she had thought would be her last on this earth. She had carried the impression of his body ever since: first inside her, brutally, as he raped her and then his fist in her face until she lost consciousness. He was her personal demon. Time after time she unpeeled him from her memory, only to find him back again when she least expected him, dragging that smell of old bad blood after him, the same odour she had smelled in the dissection room.
‘Are you okay to drive?’ Harrigan asked, watching her with a slight frown. ‘Do you want me to?’
‘No, it’s fine,’ she said. ‘Driving’s good, I like it. It’ll clear my head.
Where to this time?’
‘Downtown. I’ve been summoned to a press conference with the Area Commander and sundry other dignitaries. The Area Commander’s known as the Tooth for your information, Grace, Marvin Tooth. If you haven’t met him yet, that’s a joy you can look forward to. Don’t forget to count your fingers after you’ve shaken his hand. You’ll probably find a couple missing.’
‘I can hardly wait,’ she replied with a faint smile. Tell me about him. I already know. She stubbed out her cigarette and reached for the car keys.
‘You do have a reason for being in this job, don’t you, Grace? I’m sure you do,’ he said, as they walked to the car.
Grace had spelled out her reasons for wanting to be here on her enrolment forms ad nauseam.
‘I think that’s all on file,’ she replied.
‘I’m not asking you to tell me what they are. It’s just that, whatever you think you’re doing here, this is just a job. This is how you earn your dough. When you go home at night, you do whatever else you do with your life. You try and turn it into much more than that and you can end up in a lot of trouble. It’s not a good idea to put too much pressure on yourself. Other people will do that for you soon enough.’
Maybe they already have. Maybe I’ve found that out for myself already. Don’t be modest, Harrigan, you’ve made a pretty good fist of it yourself so far today. And if everything I’ve heard about you is true, since when did you ever act like this is just a job?
In reply, she smiled at him and said nothing. He seemed to be speaking to her in a less detached and more personal way than was usual for him in her brief experience. Even so, she thought it would be a mistake to see this concern as any particular compliment to her. Her information said that ambition drove his interest in other people’s welfare. He was known for caring how well his people coped with their work because he wanted outcomes, bottom lines accounted for to those he had to answer to. Grace surmised that his advice was just an expression of his famed ‘team approach’, summed up as mutual survival, a way of keeping all their heads above water. She was happy to keep everything businesslike. It made life so much easier.
As Grace drove them down Parramatta Road, Paul Harrigan remembered. Or, more accurately, could not stop himself remembering. A hot summer night, twenty-one years ago. A small room with walls painted a dull green and splashed with blood. Bright dark hair (just like his hair), matted and straggling onto the linoleum.
In the fluorescent light, how bright that blood was, how liquid, how shining and iridescent, like smudges of engine oil. (You think these things when you’re eighteen and you’ve never seen anyone dead before.) He could not see his mother’s face, she lay staring at the skirting board. In the dull light, his father had turned around, still holding the .38 Smith & Wesson revolver. Paul had walked into the room and turned his mother over to look into her face. In
‘Are you okay to drive?’ Harrigan asked, watching her with a slight frown. ‘Do you want me to?’
‘No, it’s fine,’ she said. ‘Driving’s good, I like it. It’ll clear my head.
Where to this time?’
‘Downtown. I’ve been summoned to a press conference with the Area Commander and sundry other dignitaries. The Area Commander’s known as the Tooth for your information, Grace, Marvin Tooth. If you haven’t met him yet, that’s a joy you can look forward to. Don’t forget to count your fingers after you’ve shaken his hand. You’ll probably find a couple missing.’
‘I can hardly wait,’ she replied with a faint smile. Tell me about him. I already know. She stubbed out her cigarette and reached for the car keys.
‘You do have a reason for being in this job, don’t you, Grace? I’m sure you do,’ he said, as they walked to the car.
Grace had spelled out her reasons for wanting to be here on her enrolment forms ad nauseam.
‘I think that’s all on file,’ she replied.
‘I’m not asking you to tell me what they are. It’s just that, whatever you think you’re doing here, this is just a job. This is how you earn your dough. When you go home at night, you do whatever else you do with your life. You try and turn it into much more than that and you can end up in a lot of trouble. It’s not a good idea to put too much pressure on yourself. Other people will do that for you soon enough.’
Maybe they already have. Maybe I’ve found that out for myself already. Don’t be modest, Harrigan, you’ve made a pretty good fist of it yourself so far today. And if everything I’ve heard about you is true, since when did you ever act like this is just a job?
In reply, she smiled at him and said nothing. He seemed to be speaking to her in a less detached and more personal way than was usual for him in her brief experience. Even so, she thought it would be a mistake to see this concern as any particular compliment to her. Her information said that ambition drove his interest in other people’s welfare. He was known for caring how well his people coped with their work because he wanted outcomes, bottom lines accounted for to those he had to answer to. Grace surmised that his advice was just an expression of his famed ‘team approach’, summed up as mutual survival, a way of keeping all their heads above water. She was happy to keep everything businesslike. It made life so much easier.
As Grace drove them down Parramatta Road, Paul Harrigan remembered. Or, more accurately, could not stop himself remembering. A hot summer night, twenty-one years ago. A small room with walls painted a dull green and splashed with blood. Bright dark hair (just like his hair), matted and straggling onto the linoleum.
In the fluorescent light, how bright that blood was, how liquid, how shining and iridescent, like smudges of engine oil. (You think these things when you’re eighteen and you’ve never seen anyone dead before.) He could not see his mother’s face, she lay staring at the skirting board. In the dull light, his father had turned around, still holding the .38 Smith & Wesson revolver. Paul had walked into the room and turned his mother over to look into her face. In
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