“I’m thinking that I’m more of a Clint Eastwood, sir.”
“I hope you’re feeling lucky then. Now, I think we’ve pushed that metaphor as far as it’s going.”
Kent ended the call.
Charlie took himself off to the men’s locker room. The clothes were too big and in sad colours, but they were clean, and not torn. The image in the mirror was of a man sliding ungracefully into middle age, which he absolutely wasn’t, in jeans cut to conceal rather than display, and a sweater chosen for washability rather than style. His suit may have been ripped and muddy, but it was him. He would love to save it, if he could.
His phone rang. It was his mother. There was no point in not answering. She would simply keep ringing.
As if I wasn’t feeling bad enough.
“Hi, Mum.”
“Charles. We’re planning a trip to Wrexham for the Cash and Carry, so we thought we’d come and see you in Melin.”
He was going to have to tell her that he wasn’t there anymore, ideally in a way that didn’t bring his parents to Llanfair. Not while he was homeless.
“I’ve been seconded, Mum, and to be honest, I’m up to my eyes in it. Now isn’t a good time.”
“What does that mean, seconded?”
“I’ll be based in Llanfair for a while. I’m in charge of looking for some missing people.”
Of course, the word Llanfair would cause trouble.
“Llanfair? Where those assaults were? I hope you’re not part of that, Charles. Haven’t you done enough damage to this family already?”
Part of what? Assaulting women students or covering it up? Because the one thing his mother wouldn’t think was that he’d been sent to help clear up the mess.
“The only thing I’m part of is the police. I go where I’m sent and do my job.”
“And you know how I feel about it, Charles.”
He tuned her out, feeling the familiar weight in his chest. If he looked in the mirror, he knew he would see his shoulders sagging. She would love the clothes he was wearing—she had been buying him garments like this for years. And if she could only persuade him to leave the police and go back to Holyhead to help run the family business, then… nope, she still wouldn’t be happy.
“Sorry, Mum, I have to go.”
He pressed the end call button. She would be angry, and he would pay, but for now he needed to get back to the others.
“The van was stolen last night, Sarge,” Edwards said to Charlie as he walked into the big office upstairs. “Nice threads.” Charlie flicked a glance to where Jellicoe was on the phone, hoping Edwards got the message. A flush of pink to his cheeks showed that he had.
Charlie waited until Jellicoe had finished the call and said, “Listen up. I’ve spoken to Superintendent Kent, and he wants the police station open nine to five on weekdays, but no one should be here on their own. For now, there’s just us four. Your colleagues have either called in sick or resigned.” The two women’s faces registered shock, and Hargreaves looked angry. “That isn’t fair to the rest of us.”
“You’re right. But none of this is fair. Especially when it’s people you’ve worked with. So, phone answering downstairs and the door open to visitors. Always think of your safety. If you need a break, lock up and stick a notice on the door saying when you’ll be back. OK?” The others nodded. “DC Edwards and I are going over to the college about these missing students.” He went to the rack of equipment and found a bright yellow jacket of the kind worn by uniformed officers. From the raised eyebrows, the jacket belonged to one of the women officers, but it fitted, and it would be warm. He pointedly put a pepper spray and a set of cuffs in the appropriate pockets, but decided a baton was a step too far. Then he changed his mind, and picked up a baton, too.
The disconnect between the police work he’d been doing as part of Melin Tywyll CID — a team who had worked together for years — and everything that had happened this morning was messing with Charlie’s head. He was managing to put one metaphorical foot in front of the other, but none of it seemed real. He was in a police station. It might have had small windows, but the carpet was the familiar blue, the computer monitors had the Clwyd Police logo, and even the racks of hi-vis jackets and charging radios should have grounded him. Instead, his head was full of air, where thoughts, procedures and routines should have been. Automatic pilot was switched off. This stuff didn’t happen. A police station in rural Wales had been attacked, police officers felt threatened, and he was homeless and without even the few possessions he’d packed into his car. He had been cut adrift from everything he knew and been told to lead the way. Somehow, wearing another man’s clothes made it all harder to bear.
“Let’s go, DC Edwards,” he said to Edwards.
Edwards rolled his eyes.
“Eddy, please, Sarge.”
“Let’s go, Eddy.” Because what other nickname would the guy have?
For all that Charlie had given Eddy the side eye about Jellicoe’s ability to take care of herself, when it came down to it, he was concerned about leaving the two women on their own in the police station. Not because they were women, but because they were the last of their team, and must be feeling vulnerable. Someone had felt confident enough to attack a police station in broad daylight. The same someone might view two women as easy targets. He drew in a breath, and it was a shaky one. Eddy heard it.
“Do you want me to stay, Sarge? I don’t like leaving them.”