“Yes.”
Morrison was already aware of Ryan’s feelings on the subject, which he’d told her in no uncertain terms. As far as he was concerned, Frank Phillips should never have been put through the humiliation of a disciplinary inquiry, especially when his actions had been instrumental in leading them to find The Hacker. Furthermore, his sergeant should never have been subjected to a three-month suspension.
At the other end of the line, Morrison sighed.
“Let’s try to put it behind us.” She refused to justify what she considered to be appropriate actions, taken with the best interests of the constabulary in mind. Much as it might have pained her to do it, much as she might have suffered a few sleepless nights, it was not enough to know that Phillips had acted with the best of intentions. They had to be seen to be trustworthy in the eyes of the ever-watchful public.
It was that detachment and ability to consider the politics of a situation that had allowed Sandra Morrison to rise quickly through the ranks of the police hierarchy.
It was also the reason why Ryan preferred to remain exactly where he was.
“The fact is, I’m concerned,” she came straight to the point. “I’m glad to see Phillips return to the office but he seems very distracted.”
Ryan’s jaw set.
“That’s hardly surprising, is it? He’s been dragged through the wringer these last four months and he’s been caring for MacKenzie at home.”
“I realise that but the HR team tell me she’s refusing to see the occupational therapist and they haven’t heard a peep from MacKenzie about when, or whether, she’s planning to come back to work.”
“She’s entitled to take up to twelve months’ leave. For God’s sake, she was kidnapped, psychologically tortured, physically battered. Do you expect her to shrug it off?”
His words came out like bullets, every one of them hitting their mark.
“I expect her to recover,” Morrison threw back. “You forget, I’ve known Denise a lot longer than you have and she’s always been strong. Hiding away at home for months will only reinforce her fear.”
It was on the tip of Ryan’s tongue to make some snide remark about Morrison being a psychologist in her spare time but he recognised more than a grain of truth in what she was saying. He’d seen his own share of trauma over the years and it had always helped to get back on the proverbial horse rather than staying at home, brooding about the what-ifs.
“Ryan—”
“Look, I’ll talk to Phillips about it.”
Morrison breathed a quiet sigh of relief and set the biro back down on her little writing desk at home.
“I appreciate that.”
She groped around for a change of subject when Ryan offered none.
“I, ah, heard you caught a new one last night?”
“Nothing major. One of the staff here at Cragside fell down a flight of stairs. I discussed it with Phillips and it looks like an accidental death but I’m keeping it on the radar.”
His tone was clipped and formal, his voice bearing the mark of years spent at a southern boarding school. Among his friends, Ryan could be warm and generous but not a whisper of that was evident now.
Sitting at home in faded running gear, her sandy blonde hair pulled back into a merciless ponytail, Sandra Morrison recognised the civil tone and swallowed an unexpected lump in her throat; she was no longer privy to the warmth Ryan reserved only for those he considered a friend.
In his eyes, it was the price she paid for betrayal.
“I see,” she murmured. And she did see. “Ryan, you know we discussed the prospect of your promotion to superintendent a few months ago?”
He shifted the handset to his other ear and walked to the bedroom window to look out across the gardens toward the edge of the forest. Cragside was hidden somewhere among those trees, he thought, like a sleeping giant.
The position of detective chief superintendent been vacant for almost a year since DCS Gregson, his former boss, had fallen from grace in spectacular fashion and was now living at Her Majesty’s pleasure. Although it wasn’t part of the Chief Constable’s job description, Morrison had been forced to oversee much of their operations in CID until Gregson’s successor could be appointed, but they all knew it was a temporary arrangement. In many ways, Ryan had been a shoo-in for the job. He had solved a series of high-profile cases and, much to his own surprise, was a popular figure in the press. The role of superintendent was unappealing not only because he’d be chained to a desk. Thanks to Gregson and the rot that had spread throughout CID, the position was tainted by association and Ryan wasn’t sure he was ready to accept such a poisoned chalice.
Ryan leaned his long body against the window frame and watched a bird swoop down from the trees to perch on the birdhouse Anna filled with fresh seed every morning.
“My position is unchanged,” he said eventually.
“I realise that and, since you have no interest in proceeding, I wanted to let you know we have another strong candidate in mind.”
He raised a single dark eyebrow.
“Anyone I know?”
“Perhaps. Her name is Jennifer Lucas and she would be coming to us from the Met. She’s acting DCS while the present incumbent is on a leave of absence, but they’re due to return in the next couple of months so she’s interested in accepting a permanent post and making a fresh start elsewhere.”
Morrison paused but no comment was forthcoming.
“She’s coming in next week for an informal discussion and there are a couple of other candidates we’ll be speaking to but Lucas has the strongest credentials on paper. I’d appreciate your input, Ryan, because whoever we appoint will be the person you’ll be reporting to directly from now on.”
Ryan pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger to stifle the tension that was developing behind his eyes.
“I…yes, I know Jen Lucas. She was my DI, back when I started at the Met.”
“Oh! I must have missed that connection. That’s great, you two can pick up right where you left off.”
Hardly, Ryan thought.
“She was a good inspector,” he said. “But—”
“Yes?”
Integrity prevented him from fabricating a list of professional blunders because the plain truth was that Jennifer Lucas had always been an outstanding detective. Any relationship that had existed between them had ended years ago and should have no bearing on her appointment as DCS.
Ancient history, he decided.
“Nothing. Who are the other candidates?”