fresh air seemed to calcify within her body,
gripping her chest, burning her lungs. She fought to wrench in a breath and whispered to the open window, ‘I love you, Riley.’
Goodhew left his flat at 6 a.m., and was in the water by ten-past. He was the only swimmer present; in fact the pool was officially still closed but the lifeguards knew him
well enough to let him in and trust him not to drown. He swam for forty minutes, and on several occasions swam a full length on a single breath, eyes open and watching for the blur of the end wall
as it came into reach.
He’d long since learnt that starting the day this way mitigated the effects of his perpetual sleeplessness. A distant clock chimed seven as he pushed open the outer door of Parkside
Station, and the first person he saw there was Mel.
She’d changed her hair; it was shorter and a little less spiky, more Titian than red now. It suited her.
In that first second they both instinctively smiled – open and spontaneous – before settling on expressions that were a little more guarded.
‘Why are you here this early?’ he asked.
She screwed up her nose. ‘Stuff to sort out.’
He immediately searched her face for any sign of upset. ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.
She understood and a small thank-you of a smile reappeared in one corner of her mouth. ‘Yeah, yeah. I mean stuff here, just work things. Don’t worry.’
He nodded and the silence between them turned into one of those unnaturally long gaps. Mel salvaged the moment by flourishing one of her almost legendary Post-it notes.
‘By the way, the Guyver woman’s gone back to the house in Gwydir Street.’
‘What’s happened now?’ he asked in surprise.
‘Nothing – she just wants to be there. It makes sense, I guess. She’d want to be the first to know, right?’
‘And Marks took her?’
‘No, Gully. You know, the new woman?’
‘But Marks was OK with that?’
‘Upstairs couldn’t get Marks on his mobile so she left a message with me, knowing that I’d see him as soon as he came in.’
‘So he’s definitely coming here first?’
‘How should I know? I get here early to catch up on some admin and suddenly I’ve been promoted to station oracle. He’s back at eight, that’s all I know.’ She
slapped the Post-it note on Goodhew’s sleeve. ‘This is what I get for having the desk nearest the entrance, isn’t it?’
Goodhew balled the paper and dropped it into the bin. ‘No need to mention this to Marks, I’ll explain when I see him.’
‘No problem,’ she said.
He turned for the door and she turned back to her PC. Their conversation had ended a little abruptly but for now, at least, that was the best way.
Gully had parked as close to the Golinski house as possible. In this street it was impossible to be more than a few feet from someone’s front door, or someone
else’s net curtains. Gully’s patrol car was now at the side of the road and within fifty yards of the Golinski house. A little too close to everything for comfort. She sat in the
driver’s seat, Kimberly Guyver right behind her, thus easily visible in the rear-view mirror if she chose to look. For now, though, Gully was slightly relieved that she had the choice.
The task of staying with Kimberly had sounded deceptively simple. Kimberly had called it baby-sitting, and Gully had really thought it might be that straightforward: a few hours spent with a
restless but exhausted charge. Gully knew that she was only a junior officer, that she carried no weight in any part of the investigation, and that her relationship with each of her new colleagues
was just beginning.
She’d immediately picked up on Kimberly’s discomfort whenever around the police, and Gully’s instincts told her this extended to all kinds of authority figures –
including those who pushed bureaucracy, or anyone who colluded with them. It was logical then that Gully’s own inexperience and unfamiliarity with the official process
gripping her chest, burning her lungs. She fought to wrench in a breath and whispered to the open window, ‘I love you, Riley.’
Goodhew left his flat at 6 a.m., and was in the water by ten-past. He was the only swimmer present; in fact the pool was officially still closed but the lifeguards knew him
well enough to let him in and trust him not to drown. He swam for forty minutes, and on several occasions swam a full length on a single breath, eyes open and watching for the blur of the end wall
as it came into reach.
He’d long since learnt that starting the day this way mitigated the effects of his perpetual sleeplessness. A distant clock chimed seven as he pushed open the outer door of Parkside
Station, and the first person he saw there was Mel.
She’d changed her hair; it was shorter and a little less spiky, more Titian than red now. It suited her.
In that first second they both instinctively smiled – open and spontaneous – before settling on expressions that were a little more guarded.
‘Why are you here this early?’ he asked.
She screwed up her nose. ‘Stuff to sort out.’
He immediately searched her face for any sign of upset. ‘Everything OK?’ he asked.
She understood and a small thank-you of a smile reappeared in one corner of her mouth. ‘Yeah, yeah. I mean stuff here, just work things. Don’t worry.’
He nodded and the silence between them turned into one of those unnaturally long gaps. Mel salvaged the moment by flourishing one of her almost legendary Post-it notes.
‘By the way, the Guyver woman’s gone back to the house in Gwydir Street.’
‘What’s happened now?’ he asked in surprise.
‘Nothing – she just wants to be there. It makes sense, I guess. She’d want to be the first to know, right?’
‘And Marks took her?’
‘No, Gully. You know, the new woman?’
‘But Marks was OK with that?’
‘Upstairs couldn’t get Marks on his mobile so she left a message with me, knowing that I’d see him as soon as he came in.’
‘So he’s definitely coming here first?’
‘How should I know? I get here early to catch up on some admin and suddenly I’ve been promoted to station oracle. He’s back at eight, that’s all I know.’ She
slapped the Post-it note on Goodhew’s sleeve. ‘This is what I get for having the desk nearest the entrance, isn’t it?’
Goodhew balled the paper and dropped it into the bin. ‘No need to mention this to Marks, I’ll explain when I see him.’
‘No problem,’ she said.
He turned for the door and she turned back to her PC. Their conversation had ended a little abruptly but for now, at least, that was the best way.
Gully had parked as close to the Golinski house as possible. In this street it was impossible to be more than a few feet from someone’s front door, or someone
else’s net curtains. Gully’s patrol car was now at the side of the road and within fifty yards of the Golinski house. A little too close to everything for comfort. She sat in the
driver’s seat, Kimberly Guyver right behind her, thus easily visible in the rear-view mirror if she chose to look. For now, though, Gully was slightly relieved that she had the choice.
The task of staying with Kimberly had sounded deceptively simple. Kimberly had called it baby-sitting, and Gully had really thought it might be that straightforward: a few hours spent with a
restless but exhausted charge. Gully knew that she was only a junior officer, that she carried no weight in any part of the investigation, and that her relationship with each of her new colleagues
was just beginning.
She’d immediately picked up on Kimberly’s discomfort whenever around the police, and Gully’s instincts told her this extended to all kinds of authority figures –
including those who pushed bureaucracy, or anyone who colluded with them. It was logical then that Gully’s own inexperience and unfamiliarity with the official process
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