Page 88 of Glasshouses

“How would they?”

He laughed, leaving me at the morgue without a car.

I hadn’t been abandoned. The plan was I’d head back into town with Nate, as there was a random midweek leaving do for one of the CSIs who’d seen the light and was moving to France to renovate a gite.

Socialising was the last thing on my list to do; I wanted to head home, go for a run and sleep, with a shower that was still a form of water torture thrown into the mix. But there were things to do before I got that treat.

Nate drove us back into town, quieter than usual, which meant he said very little. We were at the lights at the top of Oldham Street when he broke his silence.

“Have you heard from Elin Rees recently?”

My spine froze. “No. Not for a few weeks.” DCI Elin Rees was the detective overseeing the search for our father after his escape from prison. “Why?”

The only sound in the car was of the indicator.

“I had a postcard from New Zealand. Nothing on it, just my address and a stamp.” He turned right, heading towards my usual car park.

“Call Elin. Let her know. We could get the stamp tested for DNA.” I was in no mind to prevent Stan from being tracked down.

“It’s self-adhesive. He wouldn’t be that stupid.” Nate sighed, long and loud. “I’ve let Elin know.”

“Could anyone else be sending you postcards from New Zealand?”

“Not that I can think of. I’m also not sure why Stan would send something to me. It’s not like he’s ever tried getting in touch much before. Idiot.” He cursed a driver who cut in front of us.

I’d have used much stronger language.

“He could be dead.”

He gave a short laugh. “Don’t sound so hopeful.”

“He’s trouble for us, and our careers. I owe him no loyalty though; if I got the opportunity, I’d shop him.” And I’d feel no guilt about it. He was corrupt, unethical, narcissistic. The list could go on. I probably needed several years of therapy to process and accept the trauma Stan Garrity had inflicted on me, but I preferred to channel it as anger.

“I think he knows that, Mia.”

“But what about you? If you knew where he was, would you let Elin know?” Because I wasn’t a hundred percent sure he would.

“I’d rather not know where he was, so I didn’t need to make that decision. But when it comes to it, I would do.” He pulled into the car park. “We’ll see if I get another blank postcard.”

“Or a blank cheque.”

“He wouldn’t bribe me. I’m not that person. Are you coming straight to the pub?”

I shook my head. “Need to see a woman about a cat.”

Darcy Harrop was already sat at one of the tables in Colin’s café, a vat of coffee in front of her. She was looking around the place as if she couldn’t quite believe she was actually there.

“Want another drink?” I asked, stopping by the table.

“Does he do anything apart from coffee or tea?” She stared at the ancient menu above the counter as if she was expecting its offerings to be altered.

I smothered a smile. Darcy was a generation younger than me and it showed. “Coke. Probably dandelion and burdock.”

“What’s that?”

“A bit like coke.”

Her nose wrinkled. “Herbal tea?”