Sitting in a car with DI Walsh for almost four hours was going to be a challenge. Imogen was pleased at least that she was the one doing the driving, definitely preferable to being the passenger. She always found it hard to stay awake in the passenger side on journeys over an hour; she didn’t much like reading in cars, either.
Beside her, DI Walsh was going through some information that Gary had given him, doing what they all did, looking for things they missed before. Sometimes you could look at something for the fiftieth time and suddenly it would make sense of something else. They only ever had fragments until they put the whole picture together.
She couldn’t help thinking she should be back at the station with Adrian.
‘I feel like there is some kind of problem with us, Grey,’ Walsh said unexpectedly.
‘What makes you say that?’
‘Just a feeling I get.’
‘I don’t have a problem with you,’ Imogen said.
‘But?’
Imogen exhaled. He had brought it up, it was only fair that she tell him what was bothering her.
‘I just don’t know you. It’s not like we chat about things. Knowing that you are close to the DCI also makes me wonder if I am constantly being evaluated, I guess. Plus, I don’t like the way you speak about DS Miles sometimes. I think you have him all wrong.’
‘But there is no problem between us …’ He smiled and raised his eyebrow.
‘Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to. I am not the girl who is going to lie to make you feel better.’
‘Technically, I didn’t ask a question.’
‘The question was implied, or why mention it at all?’
‘OK, then what do you want to know about me? You say we don’t chat at all, but I am not one for small talk, Grey. As for DS Miles, I don’t have a bad opinion of him, I just think he behaves unprofessionally sometimes.’
‘You never put a foot wrong?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘Let’s start with an easy one, then,’ Imogen said.
‘Excuse me?’
‘An easy question. You said I could ask you. Are you married?’
‘No.’
‘Have you ever been married?’
‘I have.’
‘So, you live alone now?’
‘Totally and utterly, not even a goldfish for company.’
‘How old are you?’
‘I am forty-six years old. Before you say it, I know I look older. I went grey before I hit thirty.’
‘OK. Why did you transfer down?’
‘Mira called and said she had an opening and was looking for a DI she could trust. I have no ties and so it was easy enough to pick up and move to Exeter.’
‘No other reason?’
‘There are always other reasons. You transferred as well, you know how it is.’
‘What’s your opinion of me? Professionally speaking,’ Imogen asked.
‘I think you are holding yourself back and I don’t know why. I suspect it has something to do with DS Miles, again. I think you two are too close. And I think your loyalty to him is both admirable and also professional suicide.’
‘Thank you for being so blunt. My reasons for not wanting to put myself forward are more to do with the fact that I don’t feel ready yet. I was never in this to become chief of police. Advancement is not something I crave. I like the role I am in. Do I seem like someone who would let another person hold me back?’
‘I guess not and for what it’s worth, I am not spying on you for the DCI,’ Walsh said.
It was the first time she remembered him actually referring to their boss by rank and not her first name. Maybe he finally understood why there felt like a division between him and the rest of the team.
‘What’s your favourite band, then? What music do you like?’ Imogen continued.
‘Anything but jazz.’
‘Amen to that.’
They talked about music for a while and Imogen felt the invisible barrier between them dissolve a little. They didn’t have a great deal in common, but he was a serious man and she realised he just didn’t speak when he didn’t need to. Maybe she had had a problem with him, after all.
She noticed how he had braced himself before she started asking questions. She wondered what question he was most worried about. Everyone has one, that one question you can’t lie or laugh your way out of, the one that exposes you for who you are. Her worries about Matt Walsh faded as they got closer to Shropshire. Maybe he wasn’t so bad, after all.