Sycamore Gap: A DCI Ryan Mystery(69)

Pride.

Her experience with Colin Hart had shaken her up, more than she realised. After a strong cup of sugary tea in the staff canteen, embarrassment had crept in. She cringed at how she had practically run away, displaying what she considered a weak attitude towards her job. Once the dust had settled she had been keen to prove, mostly to herself, that she was back to normal.

That was why she had pushed Phillips away, telling him to pack up and go home. She had even refused his offer of dinner, made by his own fair hands. He was, amazingly, an excellent cook. She had regretted her decision the moment he left the Incident Room but she regretted it even more now.

She peeled herself away from the wall at her back and prepared to make a run for it and to hell with what anybody thought.

But, in horrified slow motion, she spun around as the door behind her opened again and a figure emerged, his face shadowed.

Fear clutched at her throat like a fist. A half-strangled sound escaped her and she stumbled backwards, her feet trying desperately to catch up with the voice inside her head, which commanded her to move, to act now.

“Denise?” Jeff Pinter stepped out of the doorway and shrugged into his long overcoat. “Everything alright?”

“J-Jeff?”

Denise stayed where she was, one hand braced against the side of the wall for support, adrenaline pumping through her system, still primed for flight.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out!” He chuckled at his own weak joke.

“What are you doing here?” Embarrassment made her voice sharp and Jeff held up his hands in appeal.

“Woah, there, calm down. I thought I might catch Ryan, since he usually works late, but apparently I’ve missed him.”

Denise didn’t back down.

“You could have called him, instead. What do you need to speak to him about, anyway?”

Jeff frowned, his face concerned.

“I was going to offer to go over the old reports I compiled on Edwards’ victims, to make sure there weren’t any oversights,” he replied easily. “Are you OK? You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”

MacKenzie’s heart rate had slowed and her breathing had steadied sufficiently for her to pull herself upright. She hedged Pinter’s question, giving herself a few seconds to regain her composure by straightening her jacket and hitching her bag a bit higher on her shoulder.

“I’m fine, Jeff. You startled me, that’s all.”

He clucked his tongue sympathetically.

“Sorry about that,” he said, drawing on a thin pair of gloves. “But, you know, a lady shouldn’t be out so late at night, all by herself.”

MacKenzie’s teeth snapped together. Her natural instinct was to respond in kind with some sort of caustic remark to the effect that it was equally dangerous for men as for women, but she was used to Pinter’s old-school approach to life. Besides, she had felt frightened. Another thing to add to her rapidly growing list of things to feel mortified about today.

“Well, it’s high time I went home. Goodnight, Jeff.”

“Why don’t I walk you to your car?”

It was a kind offer, MacKenzie thought. Why, then, did it sound threatening?

“No, really, Jeff. I’ll be fine on my own. See you around.”

“Don’t be silly, it’s no trouble,” he persisted, picking up his leather briefcase as if to join her.

Denise started to panic and she scrambled around her jumbled mind for another excuse to put him off. At that moment, she caught another movement out of the corner of her eye and she could have cried with relief.

Phillips ambled across the car park from the direction of what was affectionately known in CID as the ‘Pie Van’. Some of the flaky pastry had crumbled onto the collar of his coat and there was a small gravy stain at the knot of his tie, which told tales of his misadventures. Spotting Denise beside the side door, he raised a hand in greeting and squinted to see who stood beside her, in the shadows.

“Pinter?”

“Evening, Frank,” came the breezy reply.

Phillips noticed instantly that MacKenzie was not looking herself. If he didn’t know better, he’d have said that she was terrified. In a subtle move, he slid an arm around her waist and felt her lean against him for support.

One of the things he loved most about Denise MacKenzie was her fierce, sometimes prickly, independence. Earlier, when she had kicked him out of the Incident Room, he had allowed her to believe that he had taken her at her word, right until he reached the elevator and thought better of it. He had taken a turn around the block and ended up at the Pie Van, where he had stalled for a further twenty minutes munching happily before shaking himself off and heading back to CID. Throughout that time, MacKenzie’s car had remained within his line of sight, through the wire barrier which separated the car park from the road beyond.