Ryan remained silent. He didn’t need to tell Phillips that longevity did not prevent a man from killing. Murderers had family, friends, work colleagues; all the trappings they needed to make themselves appear ‘normal’. Besides, he had his own niggling sense of unease whenever he thought of Jeff Pinter and his excitement over Claire Burns’ body.
“I can’t get it out of my mind – the way MacKenzie looked last night,” Phillips’s face drooped into concerned lines, the skin falling into comfortable grooves as he spoke. “To tell you the truth, I’m worried.”
Ryan hadn’t heard this from Phillips before. Denise MacKenzie was a strong, self-sufficient woman and an experienced detective. She could handle herself. Yet, if Frank was worried, there must be some basis for it.
“I – ah – I’ve been seeing Donovan,” Ryan began clumsily. “I’ve actually found the couple of times I’ve seen him to be … I guess they’ve been useful. Just to clear out some headspace,” he qualified swiftly. “I don’t want you, or more importantly, MacKenzie, to think that I’m pressing her to go running to a psychiatrist after one or two bad days at work but, on the other hand, it could be a boost.”
Unlike Ryan, who could be stubborn at the best of times, Phillips was far more broad-minded. He chewed reflectively and gave the suggestion serious thought.
“Paddy Donovan knows Denise,” Phillips said. “He’s a decent bloke, he might be able to clear a few things up for her.” It was a source of sadness that he hadn’t been able to offer her that kind of emotional balm himself, but he could handle the knock-back.
“I’ll suggest it,” he concluded. “No idea how she’ll react, but it’s worth a shot.”
Ryan opened his mouth to say more, but was distracted by the sight of Faulkner and his small team of CSIs arriving at the house.
He made a thorough assessment of Tom Faulkner. He looked exhausted, which was highly unusual for a man of his character. Faulkner wasn’t the kind to work hard, play hard; only the work hard part of that adage applied to him. He didn’t look hung-over; he looked wrung out. Ryan watched as Faulkner tugged on his white overalls and gave a couple of brief instructions to his team before he ducked into the hallway.
He met Ryan’s direct stare with a sort of dull recognition.
There was a protracted silence, until Ryan snapped.
“Well? Are you going to stand there like an ostrich, or are you going to explain to me why I wasn’t informed immediately after you matched Colin Hart’s DNA to one of the unidentifieds on Amy’s bracelet? By the time I found out, we’d let him go without charge because we had nothing to hold him. Now, he’s flown and we’ve got another dead body on our hands.”
“Boss –” Phillips started to interrupt, but snapped his jaw shut at a single, deadly look from his SIO. He pursed his lips and wondered if he should make himself scarce before the situation turned nuclear.
“Sometimes, there’s more to life than just blood, guts and human waste,” Faulkner replied with simmering anger.
“Is that so? Well, my mistake. I was under the impression that you were employed by the Northumbria Police Constabulary to perform a service. I understand now that it’s more of an ad hoc thing, where you get to pick and choose when you help us to investigate serious crimes.”
Ryan’s voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I have never, in over fifteen years, let this department down.”
“Why the bloody hell are you starting now, then?” Ryan exploded, his grey eyes cutting into Faulkner like shards of ice.
“I am entitled to my privacy, as much as you,” came the controlled response.
Ryan gave Faulkner another long look and tried a different tack.
“Tom,” he gentled his voice as much as humanly possible. “Is there anything I need to know? Are you in some kind of difficulty?”
“There’s nothing you need to know.”
Ryan’s patience had limits.
“That’s where you’re wrong. I need to know that I have the full co-operation of my team. I need to know that you’re on board with this. As it is, I’m going to have a hell of a job explaining the situation to Gregson.”
“Then, don’t bother,” Faulkner shrugged. “I’ll tender my resignation, if that will solve the problem.”
He turned on his heel and made to leave, just like that.
Ryan and Phillips gawked at one another, in shock, for a full five seconds before Ryan galvanised himself.
“Now, you just wait a sodding minute, Faulkner!” Every member of staff within range looked up at the sound of Ryan losing his temper. It was unheard of. Ryan’s anger was cold and sometimes he got frazzled, but he never lost control. Ever.