Tania Carver - Cage of Bones

‘Did he say anything more?’

‘Nothing. I’m still here, but if he’s not moving, I might leave a uniform to look after him, or get someone from, I don’t know, Family Liaison? I’m at a bit of a loss.’

‘He needs a psychologist.’

‘Yeah, well he had one. Very briefly. But she had to go.’

Marina smiled. ‘We’ll talk later.’

She pocketed the phone, held up her ID, ducked under the tape.

She felt the eyes of the crowd on the bridge watching her as she did so. Knew that media crews would be in there too. They would all be wondering who she was, what she was doing there. She felt like a celeb on a red carpet. It gave her quite a thrill. Probably more than she would have liked in light of what she was there for.

Of course the media crews might know who she was, she thought. A couple of high-profile cases would do that.

She looked round, scanning the area for Phil. Didn’t see him. There was an air of quiet urgency about the place. The white tent was up and blue-suited CSIs were going about their work with a calm, concentrated commitment. Uniforms were there too. She spotted Adrian Wren, waved at him, moved over to ask where Phil was. Before she could do so, another figure detached himself from a conversation with two uniforms and turned to her.

‘Marina. Good to see you.’ Brian Glass was smiling, holding out his arms as if welcoming her to his party. He looked round, then back to her. ‘I’m afraid Phil’s busy at the moment. Was it him you were looking for?’

When Glass had first arrived at Southway, Marina had done her best to like him. But he hadn’t made it easy. He was the kind of copper she hated working with. The kind that was all business. There was a strand of officer, she had reasoned, and unfortunately it was a dominant one in the force, that had a little more of their personality surgically removed with each higher rank they made. And Glass was no exception. There was no spark, no inner life to the man that she could detect. She had told Phil that Glass reminded her of a supporting CTU character in an episode of 24 ; there to wear a suit and give orders but have no discernible characteristics beyond that.

Still, he had made encouraging noises about her work and the job of the psychologist in the police force in general. At least to her face. In times of budget cuts, plenty of higher-ups thought a psychologist was not a necessity but a luxury. That anything she offered could be outsourced, bought in when needed at a fraction of the cost. Irrespective of the results she achieved, the standard of the work she did. So she was polite to him, but wary. It seemed like a healthy way to proceed.

‘Yes,’ she said, ‘I was looking for Phil.’

‘Can I pass on a message?’

He was making her feel like she was being troublesome, the interfering wife bringing her husband’s forgotten packed lunch to work for him. Not, she thought, because he was belittling her on purpose, but just because he was innately sexist that way.

‘I’ll wait,’ she said. ‘He wants me to look at the crime scene with him. See if I can help him with leads.’

‘Good, good. Fine. All offers of help gratefully received.’ He brought his brows together in a thoughtful manner. ‘What’s happening with the boy? The one from the cellar?’

‘Anni’s with him now. He came round. I talked to him but didn’t get much. He kept asking for his mother.’

‘His mother?’

She nodded. ‘As far as I could tell. But wherever he’s been, he’s been there a while. He can barely speak. Hardly communicate. There’s a lot of damage there. A hell of a lot. It’s going to be a while before we can get anything coherent from him.’

He nodded. ‘Right. Good. Good work, Marina.’

She said nothing.

‘Keep at it.’ A smile. Marina imagined he thought it was the kind Churchill must have given to rally the troops.

‘I will,’ she said. He made to walk away. She stopped him. ‘Oh, by the way, I’m glad I caught you. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.’

He looked at her quizzically. Waited.

‘Rose Martin.’

His attitude changed, his voice guarded. ‘What about her?’

‘You’ve returned her to work. I don’t think she’s ready.’

He straightened up. Expression closed. ‘In your opinion.’

‘In my professional opinion as her psychologist, yes. She’s still exhibiting signs of stress, of trauma. She’s not emotionally ready to handle the demands of her job. At least not back on the front line.’

‘Well, thank you for your comments, Marina,’ he said, nodding. ‘You know I value your input greatly. I’m sure you’ll put them all in your report. I’ll read them then.’

Marina felt her face redden, her hands shake. She controlled her anger, kept talking. ‘With all due respect, Brian, you’ve put her back on front-line duty and I hear you’ve promoted her too.’

He held his hands up as if in surrender. ‘That wasn’t my doing, I’m afraid. The ball was in motion before I got here.’ He looked at her, and she detected sincerity in his gaze. Or a good facsimile of it. His voice dropped. ‘Look, Marina. Sometimes I have to make decisions that are unpopular, or that people who don’t have full access to the facts may find… contentious. Rose Martin is a fine officer. In my opinion’ – he highlighted the words, as if he had spoken in italics – ‘she is fit to return to work. The case she is working is fairly routine. I’m sure she’ll be fine. And with budget cuts, we need all the bodies we can get.’

He smiled, as if that was the final word.

‘Fine. Well I just wanted you to know that I have officially voiced concerns, that’s all.’

‘Noted.’ He smiled. ‘That’s what we pay you for.’

Any further conversation was abruptly halted. Phil Brennan was walking towards them.

‘Ah,’ said Glass. ‘Here he is. I’ll leave you to it. Good luck.’ He walked away.

‘Tit,’ Marina said. Then felt guilty. He wasn’t that bad. There had been worse DCIs.

Forgetting Glass, she turned, smiling, to face Phil. Her heart still rose when she saw him. Even here, even like this. Or perhaps even more so. After all, they had met during a case, so it seemed like a natural habitat to them. Working together. Just like old times. It felt right.

And sometimes she just couldn’t believe her luck that she had him.

But as soon as he approached and she saw him clearly, her smile faded.

‘Phil?’ Her hand straight on his arm, concern in her eyes. ‘You OK?’

He shook his head as if coming out a trance, seeing her for the first time. ‘Marina. Hi.’ He stopped before her.

Her voice dropped. ‘What’s the matter? You look like you’ve, I don’t know. Seen a ghost.’

His eyes went out of focus for a few seconds before zoning back in on her. ‘No. I’m… I’m fine. Just… fine.’

She was about to ask him again, but he spoke before she could.

‘We’d better get a move on,’ he said, not bringing his eyes into contact with hers. ‘I’ve asked the forensic teams to give us a few minutes alone in there. I’ll come with you, show you round. Tell you whether they’ve moved anything, what was in the original places. That sort of thing.’

‘Fine… ’ She was still looking at him, curious. Phil was a man of raging emotional torrents – because of his upbringing, both good and bad. It was one of the things that had first attracted her to him. The damage she felt an immediate connection with. The passion he had she wanted to share with him. But she knew that because of his job, for the most part he kept his emotions tightly bound. Didn’t let anyone glimpse inside.

But he had never done that to her before. Never kept her out. And that was what she felt he was doing now.