The Murder Wall Read Online Free Page B

was a fine line
which she had just crossed. Bright may have encouraged her to speak her mind on any subject, but he was still her senior officer and deserved her respect.
    ‘For now, yes . . .’ He smiled, an attempt to make amends. ‘Just keep me posted on this one, OK?’
    It was a dismissal.
    Daniels nodded. She wondered whether an apology was required, decided it wasn’t and headed for the door. With her back turned, he spoke again.
    ‘You OK, Kate? If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t look it.’
    She turned to face him. ‘I’m fine . . .’ she said, her eyes drawn back to the photograph on his desk. ‘And I apologize, I should have asked after Stella.’
    Bright cleared his throat. Behind his tired eyes, she could see that her concern had been unwelcome, even though she’d supported him through some very dark days following the accident
– a crash that had left Stella in a critical condition, fighting for her life. Daniels wondered if he was still waking up in a cold sweat having nightmares at the wheel. Not that he was in
any way to blame. An articulated lorry had jackknifed on the M25, wiping out one side of his car. She felt sure he was suffering some kind of survivor guilt. She was equally sure he’d never
admit it, for fear of appearing weak.
    ‘No change . . .’ he said. ‘I hate to say it, but I hope to God it’s quick.’
    Walking back down the corridor, Daniels was too slow to avoid Gormley coming the other way. Like any good detective, he didn’t miss a trick. He saw the troubled look on her face before she
had time to conceal it.
    ‘Everything OK with you and the guv’nor?’ he asked.
    ‘Yeah, why shouldn’t it be?’
    ‘I’m a detective and you’re no poker player. It’s obvious he’s pissing you off.’
    ‘He’s got a lot on his mind, Hank.’
    Gormley grinned – he knew something she didn’t .
    ‘What?’ she asked.
    ‘Any idea why the ACC wants you on the case?’
    Daniels bristled. ‘Does he?’
    ‘That’s what he told Bright.’
    ‘You sure?’
    ‘Absolutely.’
    Daniels looked past him to the door of the incident suite.
    She wasn’t the only one holding back.

4
    A shaft of early morning light peeped through a chink in the bedroom curtains, crossing the delicate contours of Jo Soulsby’s face. Her eyes flickered uncertainly and
slowly blinked open. She lay on her back for several minutes, staring at the ceiling, feeling the effects of an extreme hangover and dreading the day ahead.
    Jo showered quickly. But no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t wash away the nightmare of the previous night. Her flight from the Quayside was classic behaviour, given the
circumstances. Hadn’t she explained it in very simple terms to a number of patients over the years? Words like ‘emotional’ and ‘trigger’ sprang to mind. She was
in trouble and knew it. Trouble brought on by scars of the past, unresolved issues that had festered deep within her psyche, waiting to explode like a loaded gun. She had everything she’d
ever wanted: a successful career, a wonderful life, a family she adored. Right now, she wished her sons were around to help her put her own problems first for once instead of helping others
understand theirs.
    Walking past her rumpled bed, she resisted the temptation to climb back under the covers. She still had a job to do, couldn’t afford to bury her head in the sand. She sat down and stared
at her reflection in the mirror. The image didn’t please her. Her eyelids were red, a bruise just visible on the left side of her jaw. She applied make-up to mask it and put on smart clothes:
a crisp white blouse, pinstriped pencil skirt, thick grey tights and a black boxy jacket. Lastly, she added a black leather belt around her waist, attached to which was a key pouch with a thick
silver chain dangling from it.
    Jo checked her appearance in the mirror, then padded barefoot down a wide staircase, across an Afghan carpet of muted shades of