‘Things still tough at home?’ Daniels said.
At a signpost for Tynemouth, she pulled off the central motorway heading east, fully expecting to get stuck at a notorious bottleneck before reaching the coast road. Fortunately, she met no such hazard. New traffic lights had made a big difference in recent months and the road ahead was clear. She glanced to her left. Bright was slumped in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, deep in thought.
Either he hadn’t heard her or he’d chosen to ignore the question.
‘Take some leave, guv. I can cope.’
‘And do what, take Stella dancing?’
His words stung. ‘Guv, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’
‘I’m just tired, Kate. I’ll get over it . . .’ Bright ran his left hand through his hair and let out a frustrated sigh. ‘Look, I didn’t mean to bite your head off. It’s me who should be sorry.’
‘Don’t be. I’ve got broad shoulders. Take after my boss, remember?’
‘You’ve been a great help to me in recent months, I don’t know how to—’
‘Guv, I’m just worried about you.’
‘Don’t, Kate. Please, I couldn’t handle your sympathy.’
He fell silent again as they passed through a short tunnel and up a slight incline. Cars in front began to apply their brakes at the sight of speed cameras, accelerating as soon as they were able without danger of a £60 fine and three points on their licence. Daniels did likewise, deciding to let the matter drop. Now was not the time to try and talk some sense into her boss. She wondered how long he’d been drinking and wished he’d seek counselling from Occupational Health.
Jo was out of the question obviously, more’s the pity. A: They didn’t get on. B: She was a prime suspect in her – now their – current case.
Daniels’ eyes shot to the clock on the dash. Visiting time. She could make it if she hurried. But the man sitting next to her had expressly forbidden it. How could she tell Jo that she wouldn’t be visiting again? As she mulled over this latest dilemma, the miles rolled silently by, neither of them in a mood for chat. When they arrived at Bright’s house, she realized she’d been on automatic pilot, with barely any recollection of the journey.
The curtains were drawn and a light was on as they pulled up outside. Stella’s part-time carer had obviously been busy, hopefully managing to feed her and get her settled down for the evening. Just as well, Daniels thought. He was in no fit state to look after his wife’s needs. Not tonight, anyway. She killed the engine but he made no attempt to get out of the car, just swivelled his body round to face her.
‘We won a salsa competition once, Stella and I.’
Daniels smiled, unable to imagine him tripping the light fantastic. ‘You kept that quiet, guv. How long have we known each other?’
‘Repeat it and you’re off the squad,’ he said.
She tapped the side of her nose. ‘Your secret’s safe with me.’
‘It better be.’ He looked towards the house, his expression morphing into one of dread.
‘Want me to come in, guv?’ She cursed as her phone rang. The display showed RON CALLING. ‘Mind if I take this? It’s Naylor.’
Bright held her gaze for a little too long, shook his head and got out of the car, bidding her goodnight. Daniels watched him trundle heavily up the path to his front door and let himself in without a backward glance.
‘Yeah, Ron. What’s up?’
‘You’re not going to believe this . . .’ Naylor’s voice sounded a little shaky. ‘We’ve got ourselves another one. Birmingham, this time. Guy called Malik. Same MO – well, a shooting, at any rate. And the same signature: a prayer card left at the scene.’