Penn reached for the phone. Their acting DI liked to travel in style.
Once he’d made the request, he put down the phone and let out a long sigh. ‘Is it just me or does everyone else feel the tension lift as soon as he leaves the room?’ he asked.
Bryant shook his head. ‘It’s like that nervous energy, that desperation fills the whole bloody building.’
Penn glanced over at the Bowl as the boss stood up and headed their way.
‘See you later,’ she said, racing through the room.
Both he and Bryant watched her go.
Bryant caught his expression. ‘Give her some time.’
Penn nodded. They all knew what she’d been through, and keeping her team happy was the least of her problems.
‘Where do you think she’s gone?’
Bryant shrugged and returned to his computer, unnerving Penn all the more. Most times his computer was for decorative purposes only.
Penn knew their team had a weird dynamic and that even on a good day the boss shared little of herself with him or Stacey, but she was as close to Bryant as she was to anyone, and if he knew nothing then she wasn’t sharing anything with anyone. Weirdly, both he and Stacey drew comfort from the genuine friendship that existed between Bryant and the boss, and while that was good, all was well with the world. When it wasn’t, it threw everything just slightly off-kilter.
Although they were colleagues not parents, it reminded Penn of when he was young. He’d never once seen his parents argue, but he’d always known when they had. The weight of the silence between the two of them had filled the house, leaving him and Jasper with a sense of unease that he felt right now.
The sound of Bryant’s low chuckle broke the silence. ‘Just got to the incident log for that job you sent Burns to in Walsall. The female found dead in her living room was eighty-seven years old and appeared to have died from natural causes.’
‘Really?’ Penn asked with mock surprise. ‘I must have missed those details.’
Bryant chuckled again.
Either way it had got the insufferable man out of their hair for an hour or two.
‘Good job, Penn,’ Bryant said. ‘Bloody good job.’
SEVEN
Fairfield was a village located in the district of Bromsgrove. It housed a church, a pub and a post office-cum-convenience store to cater to the immediate needs of the residents.
Kim stepped off the Kawasaki Ninja and removed her helmet.
The house she sought was a semi-detached new build with a small fence dividing a shared front lawn. Colourful daisy plants lined the border. There was no car on the drive, but the sound of a vacuum cleaner could be heard through the open windows.
She knocked the door twice before the vacuum noise stopped and she saw a figure approach through the frosted glass panel.
The door was opened by a plump woman in her mid-forties wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Her brown hair was tied back, and a silver cross around her neck was her only jewellery. She wiped at her glistening brow as Kim took out her warrant card for the first time in months.
‘DI Stone,’ she said. ‘Halesowen CID.’
The woman frowned.
‘I’m here to talk about Jamie.’
‘Please come in.’
Kim stepped past her and waited to be directed.
‘In there,’ she said, pointing to a lounge on the left.
Kim stepped over the vacuum pipe and into a bright room that was plainly furnished but captured the sun from a large bay window. A beam of light cut across a crucifix above the fireplace.