Harri loved the morning briefings. Every time she stood in front of the men and women she commanded, it reminded her of how far she’d come. There had been a time in the distant past when she’d thought her career was over, but the discovery of the video had seen her reinstated. Powell had taken early retirement after questions were raised about his failure to properly investigate the incident and his role in Harri’s dismissal, and after a year as his interim replacement, Harri got his job permanently. She’d been running the serious crimes unit for more than ten years, and her stewardship had nudged their clearance rate up by a couple of points.
“Blues are expecting trouble at the Stoke match on Saturday, but I want everyone to stay focused on the Heinemann investigation. We need to find him and bring him in,” she said. “Let’s go, people.”
It was her trademark sign-off, something she’d borrowed from an old American TV show.
The briefing broke up and she slipped out of the room before her subordinates. She crossed the detective pool and went into what had once been Powell’s office but was now very much hers. She shut the door as her team went back to their desks and the day’s hubbub started.
She sat in her high-backed chair and turned to look at the jagged rooftops of Hanley, which stretched into the distance on the other side of her large window. A brooding sky hung over the city, and flecks of drizzle streaked the glass. It was a miserable day, but this was her home, and the familiar scene brought her contentment, if not happiness.
She had the job, which kept her intellectually stimulated and busy, and that was a lot more than most people could hope for. But she still had a gap in her life, which she tried not to think about. Sometimes when she was out and saw couples holding hands, or families with children, she couldn’t help wonder what was wrong with her, and why, after all these years, she hadn’t been able to find someone to love her.
Her depth of focus shifted, and she caught sight of her ghostly reflection in the pane. She had aged well, despite the stress of the job, and thought she was still reasonably attractive, but other than a few brief physical relationships, she had lived a solitary life.
She often thought back to the Elmys investigation, to the white-hot feelings of love she’d had for him. No one could ever hope to measure up to that profound emotion, but he’d ruined her. She could never trust anyone again. Her mind sometimes wandered to the sour old woman who lived in Barmouth with her dog. At the time, Harri had sworn she would never end up like—what was her name? Abbott? Allen—Margery Allen, that was it. But now, as the years had ground down her optimism, Harri had to admit a solitary end was a distinct possibility. And if that was the worst life had to throw at her, it wouldn’t be so bad. She, too, could buy a dog and do lots of fast walking.
Harri exorcised her melancholic thoughts with a sigh and turned to face her desk. The job was all the comfort she needed for now, and her morning routine after the briefing was a ten-minute trawl through her email inbox. As she brought her computer to life, she noticed the post had come early. There was a small parcel in her tray.
She examined it and found a typed name and address label, but no stamp. She tore away the brown packing paper to reveal a white cardboard box. She removed the lid. The inside of the box was padded with dense gray precision-cut foam, and at the center was a beautiful crystal cube about four inches wide. At the heart of the cube was a two-inch glass ball filled with what looked like stars. It was shimmering as though it contained a whole galaxy. The ball was like a living gem. Harri had the vague sense she’d seen something like it before but couldn’t remember where.
She checked the box and packaging but found no note or any trace of who’d sent her such a beautiful gift. She would ask Marcus, the guy who ran the internal mail, to see if there had been a delivery slip. In the meantime, she put the cube on her desk, next to the well-thumbed copy of Happiness: A New Way of Life. She kept the book front and center, to remind herself and the detectives who worked for her that, in the hands of the right investigator, even the smallest clue, the most tenuous thread, could have far-reaching consequences.