“She didn’t know him.”
“Ah,” Carl amended. “What was DCI Reid like before the incident as a person, and what was your relationship like?” Carl put the same question into different formats.
“Why does it matter?” I said in indignance. “He’s gone.”
“Just because he’s gone doesn’t mean their parting shouldn’t affect us. It’s only natural to grieve for someone no matter the situation or however brief their time spent with us turned out to be.”
Carl wouldn’t stop being kind. I didn’t deserve the warmth and affection. Carl hadn’t yet discovered my role in DCI Reid’s suicide. Once he did, I was sure he’d see me in an entirely different light as opposed to an officer who deserved sympathy.
“I’m sick of that word,” I rambled on, hopelessly avoiding the inevitable questions Carl would eventually wrangle a response for. Still, I attempted to stall for a few minutes more. “Grief. It’s just a polite way of saying unable to cope.”
“And how does that make you feel?” Carl began to mirror the counsellors seen in films with the direction our exchange was headed. “When I say that you’re grieving?”
“I’m not grieving.”
A gruff hum came from the other chair. “It’s common for those getting used to the idea to deny it. Denial is a good sign.”
“All these signs,” I huffed and tapped my foot in annoyance. “If you really want to know, then… at the time, DCI Reid’s death was extremely unexpected. He was wrapped up in some dodgy dealings, drugs and much heavier stuff than the team would have cared to find out about. We were dragged into the ordeal against our wills.”
“I read the papers at the time,” he admitted gently. “And the explosion made all the headlines. Most of the officers who come to see us have experienced the same things, their names dragged through the mud unfairly by the journalists. It must’ve been a traumatic time. You have my greatest condolences.”
Guilty for snubbing Carl's patience and willingness to listen, I tried to stop acting so defensive. It was hard to alter, for I rarely let my guard down for anyone, least of all strangers. I consciously amended my position to appear less closed off and not so intimidating.
“I was there at the building--” I paused, short on breath. “When the explosion happened. DCI Reid lit the match, and I didn’t stop him. Don’t get me wrong. I attempted to. I really tried. He had a lighter can stashed away and handed over some police guns to the criminals he’d been dealing with. They paid him for everything.” For the first time, I felt a lump in my throat. “Sorry if I’ve acted difficult. I’ve never spoken about this out loud before. Not like this, anyway.”
Interlacing his fingers together, Carl declined the rationalization for my apology with a poise of intelligence and empathy. “Please don’t apologize to me, DI Cooper. You're the one who deserves an apology after the shocking few months you’ve had.”
“I do?” I said. “But I’m the one who followed DCI Reid on the night of the explosion. It’s my own fault. I should’ve left the entire thing alone as we were warned to.”
“Definitely not,” Carl challenged my view. “If anything, it’s a credit to your dedication as a DI. To take action when others are in the wrong and are performing illegal tasks. It’s your duty, and you did nothing but fulfil that.” His words gave me some food for thought. A new perspective. “Your last DCI was in control of his own actions that night. He’s a superior and should've known better. What he did in that house isn’t a reflection of you as a DI, nor a person. Why did you go to the house where the explosion took place that night?”
“I, uh…” I failed to think on the spot. “All I remember is that I was angry.”
Carl bobbed his chiselled head, intrigued. “Why? Why did DCI Reid’s actions make you so angry before the explosion?”
“I don’t know?” I shrugged and shuffled. “They were morally incorrect, regarding my team and regarding our codes as officers.” I felt the familiar vexation coming back. “He crossed us all. He got McCall suspended for his personal gain. For money.” The same emotions we experienced then came flooding back. “He overstepped the mark by tampering with the career that she’s dedicated her entire life to.”
“Because you care for those close to you,” he prompted and summarized everything I had a tough time putting into words perfectly.
I gulped. “Because I cared for my team.”
“Exactly,” Carl clicked proudly as if this had turned into some kind of revelation I’d struggled to find. “You cared. Someone who truly cares for their team and their feelings can’t also be a bad person, can they? They’re not the kinds of people who deserve to feel guilty because their superior had already made up their mind on how that night would end.”
Sensing my hesitation, Carl didn’t stop there. “You're smart, DI Cooper, I do not deny that. But you’ve been blinded by your own infuriation at a situation that was never in your control, to begin with. No matter how you acted or what path you pursued that night, the outcome would’ve been the same. The lighter can was ready, and DCI Reid knew he’d be caught by the sounds of your explanation. You were set up.”
Deep down, I realized Carl had simply told the truth. Validating that my frustrations were correct. DCI Reid had arranged the entire debacle down to every meticulous detail.
“You certainly have a… unique perspective.”
Carl must’ve sensed the gratitude beneath the surface of my cryptic praise. “That’s because my perspective isn’t self-destructive, DI Cooper. And on that note,” he slapped his thighs almost regretfully, “our time is nearly up for today.”
“Already?” I yelped and checked my watch, having lost track at some point.
“Aye. Time flies when you’re having fun,” he jested and buttoned the collar up again, smartening up for the next appointment. “I’ll have the receptionist book you in for another session next week if you’d be comfortable with that? We’ve got a lot of work to do, but I think we’ll get there. I like you, DI Cooper. You’re an honest man, and considering your hesitation at first, we’ve made progress.”
“Yeah. I think I’d like that,” I confessed and felt absurdly shy now that the appointment had finished. Stretching out, Carl warmly slapped my back.
“That’s really great to hear. We’re not as bad as people imagine us here.” Carl said and walked us towards the door conversationally to lighten the mood after our heavy session. “What are your plans for the rest of today? Plenty of rest after my tough grilling and preparation for our next meeting?”
“If I do any more of that, I think my head may explode.” I managed a wry grin. “I’m going home. I’ve got some sleep to catch up on, and judging by our discussion today, I’ve got some thanks to give my partner. She’s done a lot for me.”
“I think she’ll appreciate that,” Clark agreed softly. “Good luck to you, DI Cooper. I’ll be waiting to see you next week.”
I thrust out my hand appreciatively for Carl to shake, sealing all the thanks I had to give in a singular gesture, One which didn’t get missed by the savvy counsellor. Leaving with a few of my burdens dispersed and some comfort in the actions I took, I stunned myself to think that next week couldn’t come soon enough.
Epilogue
Our windscreen wipers screeched across the pane with agonising screeches, like the cat that mewled tunelessly when we tried to get to sleep most nights. The rain cast an exact replica onto our pale skin, and I could see when and where every drop fell on the outer screen without seeing the drips themselves.
“So now you know,” I gathered the courage to look over at McCall, who stayed gobsmacked at the admittance.
“Now I know,” she murmured sadly. “Listen, Finlay. If anyone understands your reasons for remembering the Carling case, it’s me. That woman--” She broke off, scrunching her balled fists further. “Talking about it now still makes me angry. But we can't base ourselves on their decisions. Otherwise, we’d have no lives of our own.”
&nb
sp; Shrugging indifferently, I surveyed the uniform officers milling in the yard.
McCall huffed. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind? Anything at all?”
“Yeah,” I said with a smirk. “Have your own child if you’re that desperate for a nipper running around. That way, I’ll be the cool uncle with the crisps and late-night movies. Oh, how the tables turn.”
“Me?!” McCall’s balmed lips shone when she smiled. “Pregnant? No, John would never go for that. Marriage was a big enough step for us two.” Embarrassed, she swept back a curl in the tiny mirror and avoided my stares of disbelief.
“No? I always thought he was the family man type.”
“No. At least I don’t think so,” she confirmed. “He loves the job too much for that kind of commitment. My boys certainly love their duties.” She punched my bicep lightly, still as strong as she’d always been, hinting that I was one of her boys. “Sometimes, I wonder if it’ll be the death of us. Then I realise that it’s a stupid question. Of course, it will be. That’s the oath we declared.”
“Til death do us part,” I goofed. “Come on, Mrs Morbid. We’ll be late after that sorry tale, and DCI Harvey will have my neck on the line before we know it. Three months off, and I’m already late on my first day back.”
I tutted and surfaced out of the car and into the fresh morning air. McCall followed, blazing ahead in a rush now that she’d realised the time.
“Hey, slow down.” Panting, I caught up to her.
“Like you said. We’re late,” she said and jogged up the station steps, greeting a couple of people. “We don’t want you being reprimanded already. We want you to settle down for at least ten minutes before that.”
“Har, har,” I mocked as we entered the bleak reception area, which lacked its usual ray of cheeriness and warmth. She ushered and herded us along the corridor quickly. I watched as she hung back and hovered outside the CID department door strangely.
“Are you going in or hanging here all day?” I questioned suspiciously. “Is there something I should know?”
“No!” she assured, in a high pitched manner. “I just thought you should do the honours as it’s your first day back. I thought you’d enjoy the drama of it all.”
Frowning at her sudden change in demeanour, I took the offer and went ahead into the office first. Leaving McCall trailing behind, I pushed the door open to reveal a group of constables gatherers around in an expectant huddle.
The sound of party poppers and those sparkly things people blew in to create loud, squeaky noises erupted, and I ducked, thinking something had gone astray, and the ceiling had caved in. Skipper cackled at my reaction and purposely made the popper string hang over my head in goodwill, the plumpness of her fingers brushing against my hair and already ruined its careful styling.
“You’ve no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that. Your reaction was worth it.” She beamed with cheeks rosy from excitement and led me further into the office by the small of my back. “Three months without you was hell,” she nattered excitedly, treating me like I was one of her treasured grandchildren.
Glancing around our hub, the team had gone all out, each with coloured cone hats atop their heads and balloons covering their desks accordingly. A half fallen down banner spelt out the phrase, “Welcum back.” Handwritten by the looks of things.
Rebecca stepped forward to give me a friendly hug. “Cillian’s idea of a joke, plus we ran out of triangles to spell the full word.”
He beamed proudly at the credit he was receiving and did a jolly jig to make the return extra special. “You took your time to get him here, sarge. I thought we’d planned this for eight on the dot. I’ve been waiting to go to the bathroom, and all the excitement was getting too much for me.”
“Sorry guys, I couldn’t get him to come quick enough.” McCall held her hands up in defeat, sheepish and outnumbered. “We were talking in the car park, and I lost track of time.”
DC Taylor made room for her to sit on the arm of his chair, and she took the opportunity. “Sir.” We exchanged a small handshake, having already seen each other during my time off. It was inevitable with McCall and their marriage to see them both as a pair. “You made it in the nick of time. We were about to divide the cake in fear that you’d gone astray.”
Tony held the cake nervously, afraid of dropping the handmade creation. Even though he’d left CID a couple of years ago, he'd made a special effort to be here today and to party with us like old times. Secretly, I think he missed us all and the excitement we had. The treat was positively tiny in comparison to him. Decorated in white buttercream and fresh strawberries, I was filled with gratitude that they’d remembered my favourite flavour, and it proved they really did listen when I talked. That was a comfort to know.
Seeing all my friends, our team clubbing together for such a glamorous gesture, made me chuffed and choked from emotion, although I’d never admit it to them aloud. Nearing me steadily and clutching another object between his fingertips, Tony handed over a colourful hat on an elastic string. “I was made to wear one. It’s your turn to look like a first-class idiot too, sir.”
I grinned, unable to help it from manipulating all of my features at once. “You don’t have to call me sir anymore. How’s the home life going?”
“I wouldn’t want my sorry tales to ruin your day. This is supposed to be a celebration.” Tony waved the question away. “The team invited me back especially for this because they thought it was a good excuse to get the team back together again. I must say, I’m glad they did. Any excuse to eat cake, hey?”
“I don’t know what to say. This is really too much. You really didn’t have to go through so much effort,” I said. I was slightly embarrassed at all the attention but wouldn’t trade it for anything.
“Are you kidding, sir? I thought you were bad enough, but your replacement… gee. I’ll never complain about your orders again,” Cillian exaggerated and wiped his forehead free of imaginary sweat.
“Wait a minute. What do you mean? That my replacement was bad? McCall said--” I turned to see her already staring with a twinkle in her eye. The wee cheeky bugger. She’d been winding me up all along.
“I couldn’t have you knowing quite how much we missed you,” she winced, happy she’d gotten away lightly with her scheming.
Skipper agreed wholly, still following me like a stray dog.
“Indeed, DI Cooper,” a stern voice cut through everyone else’s, strict and snappy. DCI Harvey stepped out from behind the group with a folder in hand. “I, for one, am glad to see the back of your replacement. Things weren’t the same without you here. Here’s a welcome back present.” She slapped the files into my hands forcefully without even a hint of joy in her face.
Gulping, I wondered what I did wrong to deserve this. Was it because we turned up late?
“Oh, and DI Cooper?” she continued. “Here’s your real present.” Her face cracked, and the facade crumbled when she pulled out her other arm from behind her back to reveal a wrapped gift of sorts. “It’s bloody good to see you again.” She laughed joyfully at her idea of a wind-up and showcased a full set of teeth. “It’s been a heck of a bumpy ride without you.”
“Guv. You didn’t have to--”
“Ah, be quiet and open it,” she urged excitedly, and the team gathered around to watch. Skipper stood a bit too close, actually, and I made a mental note to watch out for her quick fingers. Depending on what the gift was, she’d probably swoop in there first and sell it on eBay before I’d have a chance to admire it.
Fumbling with the gilt wrapping paper, it turned out to be a lot of pressure having fourteen pairs of eyes watching me. Tearing the seam of the wrap, a mug of sorts was revealed to me. When I pulled the cup from its discarded paper, I saw that the outside was covered in a collage of photographs, ranging from pictures from the early days of McCall and me to some of the better-angled press photographs of our team.
To say I was chuffed would be an understateme
nt.
“The team contributed to sending me the photographs of the time before I knew you,” DCI Harvey pointed out the few that correlated to the explanation.
“There’s even some of us there, sir,” Cillian proudly pointed out.
Flabbergasted, I held the mug close to my chest to treasure it.
“I don’t know what to say,” I said. “This is better than what I expected. From this day on, I won’t drink from any other mug. This one will be known as the DI Cooper mug.”
Even when I was old and grey, I vowed to keep the gift on a mantlepiece as a memory of this very team.
It may only be a small token, but the unspoken sentiment behind the mug meant more than any of us could explain. Judging by their cake smothered mouths and kindly grins, they all knew that too. All of their effort to organise this surprise proved as much.
“I have to say,” I took a mouthful of food too, taste buds tingling at the creamy filling and sweetness from the acidic fruit. “I wouldn’t trade this chaos for any other work in the world. It may be downright tricky and unexpected ninety per cent of the time... but this is what I call home.”
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Ramsay Sinclair
Abduction in Dalgety Bay Page 25
