style="font-size:15px;"> ‘I know,’ Tom mumbled before slumping back in his seat.
Silence resumed and Adrian kicked himself for pulling out one of those parental lines, he didn’t know how to deal with Tom really. His only reference was his own childhood and he knew that was not the norm, so he resorted to using variations on lines he had heard on cheesy sitcoms. To diffuse the silence he turned the radio on, he could feel Tom’s disapproval at the folk jingle so he turned to another station. After a few minutes of fiddling with the buttons he gave up and turned it off as they pulled up outside his house.
The one thing Adrian did have right was his lounge. Tom would play it cool but he looked forward to spending time with his father’s gaming set-up, if nothing else. Adrian spent most of his money on what most adults referred to as toys. Andrea had never asked for child support because after they broke up she fell into a relationship almost immediately with a much older, much wealthier entrepreneur. Every month since Tom had been born Adrian had used some of his wage to buy a toy for him, but not just any toy, collectable toys. Star Wars, Star Trek, DC or Marvel, anything that was highly sought after, it would all belong to Tom one day, when he was old enough to appreciate its worth. Every year Adrian would have to insure it all with detailed photographs and lists of everything he owned in case of a house fire, most of it was completely irreplaceable, but it was also incredibly valuable. His whole lounge was shelved from wall to ceiling with pristine boxes on every possible surface. Try explaining to a six-year-old that they aren’t allowed to play with any of the cool stuff.
Tom sat in front of the large LED screen and turned it on, the surround-sound kicked in and the whole room came alive. Adrian knew the TV was too big for the room, but he also knew it would win him brownie points so he bought it anyway.
‘Have you got “Zombie Flesh Hunters 2”?’
‘That’s an eighteen.’
‘All my friends play it, they’ll probably all be online today, I won’t tell Mum, I promise.’
‘Well, you’ve only got two hours before I have to go to work,’ Adrian said.
‘For fuck’s sake!’
‘Tom!’ Adrian shouted, the loudness of his voice rang through him and he took a deep breath, his son stared at him wide eyed. He felt the ghost of his father standing behind him. He shook it off. ‘Just watch your language, please, mate.’
‘I’m not your mate,’ Tom hissed.
Adrian opened the cupboard and tossed the game to Tom, seeing the hint of victory in Tom’s hidden smile. Adrian left the room, he hated raising his voice, but even more than that he hated being played.
All traces of Adrian’s house guest had gone from the bedroom, the only evidence she had been there was that the bed was made and Adrian’s clothes were in the basket instead of on the floor. Even this small deed made him feel trapped. Fear of commitment was an understatement. In Adrian’s case, it was a phobia. When Andrea had left him and taken his son he promised himself he would never put himself in that situation again, it was as though his heart had been ripped out. Whoever said it’s better to have loved and lost clearly had no fucking idea what they were talking about. In the bathroom Adrian looked in the mirror again. He checked his eyes weren’t still bloodshot. As it had been six months since he had been allowed on the premises he probably shouldn’t go back to work looking like a drunk, not after the way he had left – or been asked to leave. Last night he had needed the Dutch courage though and so he drank, he met a woman. It was the same old story, just a different night. He got in the shower; he could hear the blood-curdling screams and shotgun blasts through the floor as he washed away his hangover and whatever remained of his interlude.
Adrian stood outside the police station wishing he had never given up smoking. Taking a deep breath he walked through the glass doors with Tom in tow.
‘Hey, Tommy.’ Denise Ferguson beamed from behind the desk, obviously trying to avoid eye contact with Adrian. He suspected this would not be the last awkward encounter he would have today.
As Adrian pushed the second set of doors open he noticed the volume of the discussion change, along with the pace, everyone slowed down. He felt eyes on him so he kept his eyes on the floor and walked over to his desk.
‘Detective Miles?’ Adrian looked up. DCI Morris was standing in the doorway to his office. ‘Come here, would you?’
Adrian motioned to Tom to wait there before walking into the DCI’s office. Tom pulled out his phone and started messing around, headphones in to avoid being patronised by any of his dad’s colleagues. Morris closed the door behind Adrian, who was glad to be out of that room for a moment. Morris had a warm smile on his face which made Adrian feel ill at ease.
‘DCI Morris,’ Adrian said.
‘Take a seat, please, Adrian.’
Adrian sat in what felt like the naughty chair, you didn’t get invited in here for just anything, a serious chat was at hand. DCI Morris didn’t look a day older than the first time Adrian had met him almost twenty years ago. Of course, when Adrian met him he looked about sixty. It was the bald head; it’s hard to age a man without any hair at all. Adrian realised this after taking a few witness statements in the early days – if there was a bald man involved you could pretty much forget a reliable description, witness accounts would span teenagers, pensioners and everything in between, depending on the visual capabilities of the witnesses themselves.
‘Sir.’
‘It’s good to have you back, you’ve been missed.’
‘Look, sir, about what happened—’
‘As far as I am concerned, Adrian, it’s over and done with now, things happen, they shouldn’t but they do. The inquiry is over and I think six months is quite enough time to get yourself sorted. A “No further action” order is better than nothing. At least next time you will know to take a little more care when logging evidence.’
‘There won’t be a next time, sir.’ Adrian cringed. ‘And thank you for speaking to the commission on my behalf.’
‘You did your time, we all make mistakes, I have had a few mishaps myself over the years.’ Morris looked up as there was a gentle tap on the glass door. ‘Ah, speaking of mistakes.’ He took a deep breath and signalled to the woman standing outside the office. ‘Come in!’
‘DCI Morris? I’m Imogen Grey.’
‘Yes, I know who you are. Perfect timing, come in and sit down, please, DS Grey.’
The scruffy brunette sat down next to Adrian and immediately started picking her thumbnails anxiously and biting her lip. She was wearing a shapeless sweatshirt and baggy combat trousers. She crossed her legs away from Adrian without looking at him once.
‘Sorry I’m late.’
‘DS Grey, I would like you to meet DS Miles, you will be working together for the foreseeable.’
‘Guv?’ Adrian interrupted. Was she here to make sure he didn’t mess up again?
‘I know it’s not ideal but Grey’s just transferred up from Plymouth and I need someone I can trust to show her the ropes.’
‘Babysit, you mean?’ Grey scowled. Adrian realised he wasn’t the one
