Shock waves were still spreading as news of Ash Baker’s death filtered through the station. Adept at covering up his problems, Ash was known for his practical jokes and smutty one-liners. Even the officers that had not known him felt the loss just the same. Ruby knew she needed to maintain a brave face if she was to carry on with the investigation. Her colleagues were offered a TRIM session, but the police rarely took help on board, the mentality being that they were coppers and should expect such things from their job. They had all become adept at compartmentalising their feelings, and trauma-related incident management would be replaced by a round of drinks in the pub. But it felt like gravity was taking an extra pull in the office today. People answered the phones slower, the receiver heavy on their hands. Footsteps dragged, and heads lowered towards the ground. As Ruby entered the room, apprehensive faces rose, waiting for direction. They needed her to be strong so they could carry on. Her stomach muscles clenched at the thought of their expectations.
DI Downes’s platitudes had obviously not been enough as detectives froze in their tracks, waiting for her to speak. Ruby wished she had taken the time to rehearse some words fitting for Ash’s memory. A thought-provoking speech on his heroism. . . serving his last days with an unblemished record. But she had a lingering feeling of doubt, and his record was untarnished only because he had died before his acquaintance with the hookers had been brought fully to light. The more she thought about his actions, the louder the question became. Was it really an accident? Had he a death wish all along? She recalled their meeting when he mentioned ending it all in an off-the-cuff remark. Had he wanted to do so? Was that what this was all about? She shook the thought away. It was incomprehensible that he would leave his family in such a way. Yet. . . The insurance pay-off would be substantial.
Sending his daughters to his sister’s, putting his wife in care… had he been putting his affairs in order? Ruby swallowed back her grief. She was wrong; she had to be. Such thoughts rose because she could not bear the alternative: that it was her fault. She had let him down. Wearily, she leaned against Ash’s desk, still cluttered with paperwork and files just as he had left it. A framed photo of his family sat in the corner next to a chewed-up pen. His cup still carried a brown ring from the remains of his coffee, and his jokey posters were still stuck to the wall.
She took a deep breath, vowing to keep her voice strong and steady, yet not unfeeling in the way that DCI Worrow’s clichés would portray.
‘I know we’re all feeling Ash’s loss today. Most of you are probably still in a state of shock. Given I was with him when it happened. . .’ she paused, a wave of guilt rising and stealing her words, ‘I can’t help but feel somehow responsible.’ She raised her hand as Luddy began to speak, most likely to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault. ‘It’s OK,’ she said, ‘I just need to work through it. Ash’s loss is going to be immense, and I don’t just mean workwise. He had such a huge personality, and it’s tragic that it had to end this way.’ A thought entered Ruby’s head as she remembered a group discussion about retirement. The way Ash spoke it was like he knew he would never see it. Ruby sighed. If only such theories would stop infiltrating her mind.
‘You’ve all been offered TRIM, and yet here you are, all at work today. God knows these cases need a hundred per cent. If anyone here isn’t feeling up to it, there’s no problem in getting you signed off. Go home, or go for a drink. I know which Ash would have preferred.’ She gazed around the room, but nobody was forthcoming. ‘I’ll be going to The Eagle pub after work to raise a glass to our friend for anyone that wants to join me. If anyone else has a few words that you’d like to put together, just email your comments to me for the memorial service. I’m sure you all have a story that you’d like to share. Nothing too embarrassing, mind.’ She thought about Ash’s wife and his daughters, who had already had to cope with so much. Thoughts of their young lives made tears well up inside her, and rather than cry in front of her colleagues, she swiftly turned away. ‘I’ll be in my office if anyone needs me.’
The shrill ring of her desk phone infiltrated Ruby’s thoughts, and she jabbed at the volume button to turn it down. Insistently the red dot of light flashed, alerting her that the caller was not going away. Straightening in her chair, she picked up the receiver.
She was greeted by the gravelly voice of front counter staff. It was June, and Ruby immediately recognise her smoker’s drawl. ‘Sorry to trouble you, Sarge, but I’ve got a young man down here that’s very keen to speak to you.’
Ruby sighed as her computer dinged to alert her of ten new emails. ‘Can you take his details, and I’ll call him back? I’m a bit busy right now.’
‘I can do, but he’s saying it’s urgent. He said he’s Sharon’s boyfriend, and she hasn’t come home. He’ll only talk to you.’
‘I’ll be right there,’ Ruby said, before placing the receiver back on the cradle. Clenching her fists, she banged them on the table, venting her growing frustration. Just like Ash, Sharon had ignored her advice to stay put.
As she made her way to the front office, Ruby hoped that was where the similarity stopped.