‘Don’t be so dramatic, Stone. I get it.’
Kim got out of the car a little disappointed she’d won that round quite easily.
‘Do you feel like we’re missing something?’ Bryant asked as they walked towards the lift.
‘Yeah, the weight that’s been sitting on my shoulders for the last eighteen hours.’
Bryant chuckled as he hit the button for the top floor.
‘And if you were wondering if she’s just as sour faced away from the office, I can confirm that she is.’
‘Don’t really care how sour faced she is as long as she’s good at her job.’
Kim closed her mouth. She was obviously getting no empathy from him.
‘Who’s the FLO?’ Bryant asked as they approached the door.
‘None.’ The assigned family liaison officer had been an officer in her mid-forties named Hilary. ‘They sent her away after an hour,’ Kim answered.
Not every family welcomed a family liaison officer. The email she’d seen in the car stated that they hadn’t been unpleasant about it – they just wanted to keep their grief to themselves.
And when Gavin Daynes opened the front door to the flat Kim guessed there was a secondary reason.
‘Good morning, Inspector. Please come in,’ Gavin said, forcing himself against the wall to make room. The hallway was little more than a cubbyhole with four doors leading off it. She was guessing it was a one-bedroom property. Unless one of these doors led to a further hallway, she could see every room in the place from the front door.
‘Zach’s through there,’ he said, nodding towards the door that was straight ahead.
The room was more oblong than square, which made the arrangement of furniture quite haphazard and clumsy. A two-seater fabric sofa rested against the longest wall. Zach sat in a single leather chair close to the window. A miniature Yorkshire terrier sat on his lap. It occurred to her that their pet was proportionate to the property, just like the television and other furniture. The only things that appeared to be out of proportion were the painted canvasses on the wall.
‘Zach did them,’ Gavin said, standing behind her.
His husband’s voice roused Zach and his eyes opened.
Kim made no comment on the artwork. She’d never understood art. She didn’t want to have to interpret anything she put on her walls. Although she didn’t get art, she was still able to appreciate fine use of colour or the skill involved, but the daubings she saw on the wall appeared to possess neither.
‘Please, may I get you a drink?’
‘Coffee would be great,’ Kim said, surprising her colleague.
It only took him a second to catch on.
‘In fact, I’ll give you a hand,’ Kim said, following him into the boxy kitchen. She certainly understood not wanting anyone unnecessary in this space.
‘How is he?’ she asked, standing in the doorway.
‘He’s barely spoken,’ Gavin said, filling the kettle. ‘I mean, obviously he wants to know what’s happened, but he mainly cries and stares.’ He grabbed four mugs.
‘Okay, so what do you really want to ask me, Inspector?’ he said, turning to face her. ‘I’ve seen enough cop shows to know what’s going on. Please don’t beat around the bush. Just ask whatever you want.’
His voice was warm, and his invitation was open.
‘Okay, I’ll ask again. How is he?’
Zach had barely looked at her when she’d walked in the door.
‘Tenuous,’ he answered honestly. ‘He suffers from anxiety and sometimes paranoia set against a backdrop of clinical depression. No one knows from day to day how he’s going to be. Some days he’s angry, some days he’s sad and other days he’s the man I fell in love with.’
Gavin turned away on those last words.