His expression told her that there was more he wanted to say, but slowly he nodded that she could leave.
She got to the door before she heard his voice again.
‘Stone, no one expects miracles. You’ve been through—’
‘Thank you, sir, but I’ll be fine,’ she said, closing the door behind her.
She took a breath and readied herself for the journey ahead. It was three corridors and one flight of stairs. She gritted her teeth and went for it.
The calls came from all directions.
‘Welcome back, marm.’
‘Good to see you.’
She put down her head and surged forward, fighting her way past people who would never normally speak to her for fear of having their heads ripped off. She prayed that the novelty of her return would wear off quickly.
She arrived at the safety of the squad room and breathed a sigh of relief. She had sent a brief text to Bryant the night before saying:
Back tomorrow. No Fuss.
Unusually, the door to the CID room was closed. A rare occurrence on her watch. CID was already classed as a separation from the rest of the force and closed doors did nothing to dispel that fact.
She took another deep breath and realised she did that a lot these days.
She opened the door to silence, but four heads turned towards her.
Stacey’s face instantly creased into a smile, as did Penn’s. Bryant caught her gaze and nodded.
‘Morning, boss,’ Penn and Stacey sang together as the fourth occupant of the room who was seated at the spare desk stood and offered his hand.
‘DI Burns. I was involved—’
‘You’re the idiot who refused to link the search for Symes with his hatred for me?’ she said, ignoring his outstretched hand.
She’d been away for two months. She’d read everything.
His face hardened as his hand fell back to his side. ‘I simply offered an alternative…’
‘And how’d that work out for you?’ she asked, walking past him.
From the pile of belongings on the spare desk it was clear that he’d vacated her office speedily.
‘Carry on, folks,’ she said, reaching the door to the Bowl. ‘If you need me I’ll be deleting twenty thousand emails.’
She closed the door behind her and leaned against it to get her breath. It felt like she’d entered a space that was now alien to her.
DI Ian Burns. Thirty-one years of age, unmarried, with a father and grandfather who had served before him. Ambitious, driven and hopeful that the capture of Symes was going to be the crowning glory on his application to DCI.
Her life had been a promotion opportunity. He’d shot and he’d missed.
She knew what had happened. His acute failure to connect the dots had resulted in him being sent to Siberia. Big promotions didn’t come out of Halesowen, and DI Burns was now on his own.
Having read the files, there were some of his actions that she could understand and others she could not. But one thing she couldn’t forgive was what he had used in defence of himself in his statement and the one fact that had kept him away from demotion. The fact that she had willingly given herself to the enemy. Somehow, he had managed to turn his own failings back on her.
She pulled her attention away from his bowed head and pushed away the violent thoughts that were running through her mind. She switched on her computer.
Take your time, Woody had said. Ease into it gently. Take back control when you’re ready.