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I LED WOOD out of the office and down the corridor. I was trying not to be irritated but with Wood acting like she’d forgotten how to interview witnesses, I was failing at remaining calm.
“Trin said you’d only worked here a week,” Wood said as we headed past the black marble staircase and on through the formal reception rooms large enough to fit a basketball court in. Every corridor was guarded by creepy suits of black armour.
“I have.” I shrugged and waved my prosthesis. “Aren’t many employers who would take me on.”
Wood flicked her gaze away. “Isn’t like you to be fooled by anyone.”
I laughed. “And who says I was fooled?” I led her out through the service entrance to the courtyard. “Thought I taught you better than to ignore PACE.”
“I wasn’t. She’s a witness,” Wood mumbled like she didn’t believe a word of it herself. “For now.”
“I heard the tone, Ruth. She’s a suspect in your head.” I stopped halfway across the courtyard. The same spot where Sophie had sneaked up on me. “You know full well she needs to be interviewed at the station if you’re questioning her as a suspect.” I rolled my eyes. “What if she made a significant statement and was the killer? It would be thrown out of court and you’d have let a murderer walk free because you wanted to play some power game.”
Wood lowered her head like she had when I’d yelled at her as her boss. “I’m not used to the pressure, Morgan. I have Derek breathing down my neck to give the Salisbury family something.”
“Welcome to being the SIO, Ruth.” I strode on—what did she expect? So, you know, as a Senior Investigating Officer, you got a load of political shit along with the entire weight of a case on your shoulders.
“I never wanted to be an SIO,” she snapped back as we reached the arched gateway.
“No? ’Cause you jumped into the role pretty quickly.” I stopped at the driveway.
“Yeah, you would think that, wouldn’t you?” Wood flicked her hair back, her brown eyes blazing. “I can barely look at myself in the mirror. I should have seen him come at me. I should have moved.”
“It wasn’t your fault he attacked you. Who expects someone to come at them with an axe?” It was still so unreal in my head. The guy hadn’t even been a suspect. Wood had just gone to his place to ask if he’d noticed anything suspicious.
“Then why does it feel like my fault?” Wood snapped then blew out a breath. “In here?” She thumped her ample chest.
“Because you’re a better person than I give you credit for.” I sighed. No wonder she hadn’t so much as contacted me. “And you’re a better detective than you’re crediting yourself with.”
“In that case, I think she killed Salisbury.” Wood held my gaze. “She had enough motive to, there were defensive wounds on Salisbury’s body and plenty of Salisbury’s skin and blood under Haye’s nails. That’s without the GSR and her silence. What innocent person doesn’t tell the police they are?”
“Someone in shock, someone who doesn’t trust the police, someone who is scared. There’re countless reasons. You know this. You know that sometimes it’s just down to the rapport between interviewer and suspect.” I walked her around the front of the manor. “I saw her myself not ten minutes before that body was found and she was inside. There is no way she could dump a body and have returned in that time.”
Only the fact Sophie had sneaked up on me prodded me. Where had she come from? Had I missed something?
“And Salisbury’s father is trying to stage a hostile takeover of her company,” Wood said like I should know. “She’d lose millions. Most likely she’d have lost this place. Haye’s phone shows that she learned of Salisbury’s business dealings that afternoon.” She was talking to me like I was still her superior. “She purposely seduced the daughter of the guy taking over her business that evening and then the woman is shot.”
“How would shooting Salisbury help?” She was better than this. I’d taught her to follow the evidence, the facts, ignore the opinions of superiors and political powers. The facts. “How would she benefit from Salisbury being found? It’s not benefiting her PR, that’s for certain.”
“Salisbury’s father pulled out of the takeover.” Wood drew her mouth to the side like she wasn’t sure. “How do you explain those defensive wounds?”
“Lady Haye plays rough. Read my statement Salisbury had those wounds when she was still alive.” I had always walked her through the case. We’d always bounced ideas off each other. Easy to slip back into it.
“I said I’ll take a look but I don’t buy that Haye didn’t attack Salisbury.” She flushed and cleared her throat. “And this head groundsman? The countless staff you have the accounts of? They all seek to benefit from Haye not going to prison.”
“You know the danger of narrow focused investigations.” Old policing: pick a suspect, make the evidence fit, equalled guaranteed injustice. New policing: follow the evidence, understand what it was leading you to, make the arrest based on that evidence . . . equalled Crown Prosecution Service taking the case on and proving guilt in court.
“I know . . . It’s just Derek—”
“Will put you under extreme pressure because that’s his job.” I’d visualized knocking his teeth out several times over the years. “Ignore him, focus on getting it right.” I smiled at her even though it ripped me in two. I couldn’t help now. “Stop leaping at the first conclusion that presents itself. You are more than capable of handling this case.”
Wood nodded, then smiled a shy smile. “Thank you, ma’am.”
I wagged my prosthesis. “Just Morgan these days.”
She shook her head as the pathologist called to her. “You’ll always be ma’am to me.”
I turned before she could see my eyes misting and strode back toward the gateway office. Nice sentiment but it made distancing myself harder. I glanced over my shoulder at the white forensics tent and the cordons and blinked away the tears. I missed being a police officer. Losing my warrant card had been harder than losing my arm. Stupid, right? But that was how I felt.