Detective Chief Superintendent Colleen Shepherd often singled out individuals in the morning briefings, for praise or otherwise, but she rarely summoned them to the front of the room. Today, though, everyone gathered in the Incident Room at Saltmarsh Police Station knew what was coming. Lauren Salter coloured slightly as she stood. She took a moment to smooth her crisp white blouse, but seemed to accept that further hesitation was only going to delay the inevitable; whether she welcomed the invitation or not, she, too, had been expecting it.
“With so much emphasis on the team approach to policing these days, I always feel there’s a danger that individual achievements might not get the credit they deserve,” said Shepherd as Salter joined her in front of the assembly. “But when a member of this department does something worthy of note, you can rest assured, it won’t be allowed to pass unnoticed.” She looked across at Salter, whose expression suggested she wished she’d chosen a blouse that might have done less to emphasize the pink flushing of her cheeks and neck. “I don’t think it’s a surprise to any of us that Constable Salter was able to pass her examinations, though I’m not sure even she would have expected to achieve such, frankly, ridiculously high scores on the written component. And I’m reliably informed she did just as well in her interviews. Her ideas about the application of new technologies in policing seem to have struck a particular chord with the panel. Which I suppose means we’ll now have at least one person in the police service who knows how to use the new phone system.”
Detective Sergeant Danny Maik had always felt Shepherd’s attempts at humour in these situations were received far more warmly than their actual merits deserved, but today’s generosity from the assembled group, he recognized, was more about the popularity of their colleague. The DCS turned to Salter once more as she made her announcement. “Congratulations, Detective Sergeant Lauren Salter.”
The derisive cheers and apathetic, half-hearted applause reinforced the genuine affection among the ranks and Salter shifted slightly with embarrassment. As she stood there, with her frozen smile and her eyes flickering for an exit sign, Maik’s heart went out to her. Shepherd had grasped one of her hands and placed the other on Salter’s shoulder, turning her to face the room like a new midfielder being welcomed to the local football club. As stilted and awkward as the moment was, even Danny realized it was a photo op. Only he’d never yet taken a truly successful photo with his phone, and even if he did, it would likely take him the better part of a day to work out how to post it anywhere. Eventually, one of the bright young things from Traffic grabbed Salter’s own phone and took a few shots that could be posted on her social media network, where they could be instantly commented on and just as quickly forgotten.
“And as it turns out, Sergeant Salter,” said Shepherd, “your timing could hardly have been better. With Inspector Jejeune off on his leave and Tony Holland on secondment to the Met, there is room for a second sergeant here at Saltmarsh, at least for the time being.”
Others in the crowd turned to seek out Danny Maik’s face. He was renowned for his stoic expressions, but it was obvious he had already been informed of Shepherd’s decision — and approved. From the front of the room, Salter flashed him a smile, equal parts gratitude and nervousness.
“With the temporary manpower shortage, you might both find you have to go it alone a bit more than usual, but make no mistake, I’ll be expecting you to share out the sergeant’s duties equally,” Shepherd told her.
“That means Danny puts the kettle on while you fetch the biscuits,” offered somebody from the cheap seats.
Salter shook her head gravely. “Sorry, no can do.”
Shepherd looked slightly startled by the new sergeant’s response.
“I’m off the biccies just now,” explained Salter, patting her stomach. “Doing a bit of running, too.”
“I do hope these are not new requirements for the position of sergeant. Jogging and no biscuits? Sergeant Maik will have his retirement papers on my desk by the end of the day.”
Like the crowd, Maik was in a generous mood today, and he rewarded the effort with a smile. Of sorts. He watched Salter now as she thanked those who came up to offer their individual congratulations. He’d already taken care of that, as soon as she walked into the building.
As the assembly broke up, it crossed his mind that if it had been anyone else at the station being celebrated in this way, the event would almost certainly have been marked by a cake, courtesy of Lauren Salter. He felt disappointed in himself that he hadn’t thought to arrange something. It wasn’t as if he could have expected any of this useless lot to have done anything. He was still watching Salter, from his safe distance, when he heard Shepherd’s voice beside him.
“I’m going to give her the lead on this domestic stabbing, Danny.”
Sergeant Maik wasn’t a man who normally went about avoiding people. If anything, he was aware people sometimes found his own presence a touch on the intimidating side. But he had studiously avoided getting anywhere near the orbit of his chief superintendent recently. It wasn’t a situation that could continue for much longer, so there was almost a relief for Maik that she had finally caught up to him. Almost.
“I trust you’ll be keeping an eye on things, though. There’s something about this one that I don’t like. This business of the extra force for the second stab wound, for one thing.”
By making it about the case, rather than the investigator, Maik realized Shepherd had hoped to draw him out. But even if he had any misgivings about giving a new detective sergeant such a tricky case as her first lead, he would have kept his silence. He’d be ready to offer his thoughts whenever she wanted them, but he’d let her make her way alone until she asked. Only, he suspected the new sergeant wasn’t going to ask, no matter how bogged down her progress became. She’d be too afraid of looking out of her depth. Nor would it do any good for Danny to reassure her they were all out of their depth, in every situation, every minute of the bloody day. So if Shepherd did want him to keep an eye on this case, it wasn’t only for the developments in evidence gathering and investigative procedure and such like. It would be to watch Salter, too.
Shepherd left her shoulder-to-shoulder position and turned to face him. It was what you might do if it was important to see somebody’s reaction when you spoke. “I’ve received a report about a request that came through from the RCMP in Toronto recently, asking for access to fingerprint records for Ray Hayes.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Like his expression, Maik’s tone was giving nothing away.
She looked at him dubiously. “Yes, ma’am as in ‘how interesting,’ or yes, ma’am as in you already knew about this? There’s only one reason I can think of why the RCMP might be making such a request. How about you? And where do you suppose they may have obtained a fingerprint for comparison?”
She waited.
“There was a bookmark in Lindy’s car,” said Maik eventually. “I believe the DCI may have taken it with him when he left.”
“Are you telling me Inspector Jejeune removed evidence from a crime scene? Evidence that he’s now having independently assessed in another country? Has he taken leave of his senses?”
“It wasn’t a confirmed crime scene at the time he took it,” said Maik, “just the scene of a motor vehicle collision.”
Shepherd’s complexion darkened slightly. “A word of advice, Sergeant. If this goes as far as a review board, I would strongly advise you not to voice an observation like that. They’re not overly tolerant of people who insult their intelligence.” Shepherd shook her head incredulously. “God almighty. What was he thinking? That bookmark could have been vital in a case against Hayes, but there’s no hope we’ll be able to use it as evidence after this.”
“With respect, ma’am,” began Maik. He stopped at her stare. The phrase was bandied about at the station far too easily for Shepherd’s liking, but she could usually be at least reasonably sure Danny Maik’s use of it was sincere. “Since we didn’t request the print match, the results won’t be reported back to us. But the one thing we can be sure of is that there was nothing on that bookmark that could bring us any closer to finding Hayes. If there was, the DCI would have already let us know.”
“If you believe that in any way excuses his actions —” She stopped, accepting Maik’s point. It didn’t excuse them, but until anyone asked, it gave them some breathing room. “So the two of you have not been in touch?” Despite her frustration, Shepherd had lowered her voice slightly. Maik’s search for Hayes had been purposely kept from the rank and file. Ray Hayes wouldn’t have the resources to breach the sophisticated firewalls of the police department’s secure communications systems, but he might well tap into a source of equally rich information — the unguarded gossip of officers patrolling the streets of Saltmarsh, or having a quiet pint at the Boatman’s Arms.
“No, ma’am. No contact, as agreed.”
Shepherd gave her sergeant a look designed to remind him that, in the past, both Maik and Jejeune had occasionally followed procedures that were not entirely as agreed. “I’ve not had a chance to check my inbox this morning. Anything in there from you that might help push this bookmark business to the back of my mind?”
“No new leads to report, ma’am. All the existing ones have been rechecked, but there’s nothing come to light there, either. We’re no closer to finding Hayes than we ever have been.”
Shepherd nodded slowly. It was a variation of every update she’d received from him so far. He’d even stopped adding the other part, she noticed, some vague assurance that he was doing all he could; a statement so vapid it sounded like it had come directly from a police press release. Not at all what she might have expected from the sincere, straightforward officer to whom she’d entrusted the most important task of his career. She knew the probability of Hayes’s arrest was diminishing with each passing day, and with it, the prospects for Domenic Jejeune’s return.
“Your latest written report suggests you’ve stepped down your surveillance on Lindy.”
Maik understood her need to check and recheck the small details. It was always that way with one’s superiors when there had been no progress on the larger ones. “I didn’t want to take any unnecessary chances that I’d be seen, on the off-chance Hayes is still around these parts.” But Maik’s tone did not suggest he felt this was a very real possibility any longer. If it ever had been. Shepherd knew he believed they were now out of options, and while she didn’t want to accept it, at the moment she could find no reason to disagree.
“You feel Lindy’s safe, then?”
“There’s been nothing to suggest otherwise.”
Shepherd nodded. So, DCI Jejeune had been proven right. He had predicted his absence would ensure Lindy’s safety. He’d always felt Ray Hayes would only pose a threat to Lindy again if Jejeune himself came back to Saltmarsh. But unable to confide his reasons for leaving to Lindy, he had left her discreet surveillance in the hands of the one man he trusted most. It was a duty Sergeant Maik would execute as diligently as any he had ever taken on, and Shepherd knew that Danny would never have scaled back his watching brief unless he, too, was convinced there was no longer any threat to the DCI’s girlfriend.
The two officers watched as the last of Salter’s well-wishers left the room. With a final lingering glance in Maik’s direction, the newly-minted sergeant followed them. Shepherd gave a sigh and looked at Danny. “As I say, Sergeant, keep me apprised. Any developments. Any at all.”
In either case, she meant. But they both knew there was only one he would be reporting on. The other one was already closed in all but name. And soon, DCS Shepherd was going to have to make it official.