Fic: Steady As She Goes (34/86), Blue Cortina, dakfinv
Title: Steady As She Goes (34/86)
Author: dak
Word Count: 2078 this part; [61,700 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart.
Summary this Part: Sam and Chris talk. Gene and Ray do some digging.
Rating: still Blue-ish Cortina, uhm, what's slightly darker than blue?
Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, violent imagery, minor drug use, mild sexual situations, self-harm for whole
Spoilers: vague ref. to 1.07; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: And another part. Enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60 Part 61 Part 62 Part 63 Part 64 Part 65 Part 66 Part 67 Part 68 Part 69 Part 70 Part 71 Part 72 Part 73 Part 74 Part 75 Part 76 Part 77 Part 78 Part 79 Part 80 Part 81 Part 82 Part 83 Part 84 Part 85 Part 86
Chris stood outside the room for ten minutes rubbing his stomach before finding the courage to tap on the door and enter. Once he’d seen the lights were off and Sam sleeping peacefully he ducked outside and waited another ten before the nurse convinced him that even though DI Tyler was sleeping he wanted to be woken as soon as someone arrived from the station. So Chris entered again, not bothering to knock. He winced as he flicked on the lights, the bright light harshly filling the stark room. Sam didn’t seen to notice though.
Chris padded across the floor and sat down in the plastic chair. "DI Tyler," he whispered. Sam continued to sleep. Chris scooted the chair forward, closer to the bed. "Uhm, Boss, sir?" Chris knew he was being too quiet but he was terrified of startling him. He inched the chair closer yet again then reached out and gently shook Sam by the elbow. "Boss?"
Chris had expected him to jump and lurch but instead Sam groggily blinked open his eyes and yawned. Chris saw Sam’s brain come to life as his eyes registered their surroundings.
"Chris?"
"Hiya Boss. Phyllis said you needed someone..."
Sam’s face lit up and he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Right. Yes. I asked the nurse...Must’ve dozed off." He noticed Chris’ apprehensiveness and wondered if the DC had been forced to do this or if he had come of his own accord. "I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been trying to work out the location of the kidnappers but I need someone with good researching skills to help me out."
"What you need me to look up?" Chris still wasn’t making eye contact but he hadn’t fled the room so Sam took this as a good sign.
"Can you wheel that table over for me?"
Chris obliged and Sam started sifting through the piles of paper that covered the table top.
"I’ve been making a list of questions that I think will help us pinpoint their whereabouts. Like how have they been getting money, food. Who haven’t we spoken to that might house them. That sort of thing. Ah. Here it is." Sam pulled one paper from the stack and handed it out to Chris. Chris wasn’t looking and didn’t notice the outstretched arm. "Chris?"
Chris glanced up, saw the paper and grabbed it. "Got it, Boss." Chris was glad he had the paper to read over now. It gave him an excuse not to look up.
"I’m glad you came Chris. You’re probably the only one who can read my handwriting." Sam smiled hoping Chris would too, but the younger man simply nodded. Sam knew they couldn’t go on like this any longer. "Chris."
"Yes Boss?"
"Look at me."
Not one to disobey a direct order, Chris slowly tilted his head upwards til his eyes met Sam’s.
"What’s wrong?" Sam asked seriously.
"N-nothing."
"Chris, if you’re not comfortable being around me..."
" ‘S not that Boss." Chris shook his head.
"What is it then?"
Chris heaved a heavy sigh and picked at the paper in his hands. "It’s just...’s my fault, innit?" He mumbled.
"Sorry?" Sam almost laughed.
" ‘S my fault you’re in ‘ere, innit?"
Sam crossed his arms, careful not to bump the IV. "And how do you work that one out Detective?"
"Well," Chris scratched behind his ear. "I was the one what got shot in the first place. An’ if that hadn’t happened you’d’ve never gone drinkin’ an’ got lost by the canal an’..."
"Chris." Sam held out his arm to stop him rambling. "Don’t take this the wrong way but that is the most ridiculous reasoning I’ve ever heard."
Chris wasn’t offended but relieved by Sam’s admission. "Really?"
"Your shooting was an accident. And even if it wasn’t, I was the prat who went off and got himself completely pissed at one in the afternoon."
"Did you just call yourself a prat sir?"
"Yes."
"Can I tell Ray?"
"Absolutely not."
Something lifted in the air and Sam felt better than he had in weeks. Better than he had this morning when Gene...
"So," Sam cut off his own train of thought. "You’ve got those questions then?"
"Yeah."
"I need a fully detailed report as soon as possible. It will probably mean a lot of time down in the collators..."
" ‘S alright Boss. Guv’ll have me back on desk duty anyhow. I’ll have plenty of time to sift through things down there." Chris stood up to leave.
"What do you mean back on desk duty?" Sam hated being out of the loop.
"Well Ray took me off it this mornin’ to help with a burglary. But I told Phyllis to tell the Guv me stomach hurt an’ I’d gone home so that I could really come over here."
"Why..." But then Sam knew exactly why. He rested his hand on his forehead. "Gene doesn’t want you helping me."
Chris shuffled his feet. "He din’t say as much but...he’s sorta been avoidin’ mentionin’ you an’ stuff."
" ‘S okay Chris. Don’t worry about it. Just don’t get sacked either, okay?"
"Will do," Chris smiled. "Well, will don’t."
Chris departed, his insides feeling much lighter than when he’d arrived, and left Sam just as Dr. Merrick reappeared outside the room.
*
"Where’ve you been?" Gene verbally assaulted Annie as she and Ray returned to CID.
"Door to doors," she said without hesitation.
Gene grunted, seemingly disappointed in the apparently correct answer. His eyes darted around the room. "Where’s Skelton?"
"Stomach ache. He went home to sleep it off." Annie answered again.
"Useless twat," Gene mumbled under his breath. "Right then. RCS have received an anonymous tip ‘bout some knocked off shooters gettin’ dumped in the canal. Litton an’ his men will be out there trawling the waters for a few hours. All except DS Mackenzie that is."
"Which one’s Mackenzie?" Ray asked.
"The poor old sod with a bad memory and a fondness for Glenlivet." Gene pulled a large bottle out of a paper bag and plopped it on an empty desk. "Thought Ray and I might go have a chat with the lonely bugger."
"Sounds good to me Guv," Ray nodded. He took the bottle and waited for Gene by the exit. Gene took his time lighting a cigarette, off-handedly speaking to Annie. "I expect copies of those door to doors on my desk by the time I get back." He shook out the match and dropped it to the floor.
"Yes Guv," Annie called as he left with Ray, then started to pull together everyone’s notes on this morning’s burglary.
*
"How was your lunch, Sam?"
"Not exactly gourmet but I did manage to keep it down."
"Good," Merrick smiled as he reclined in the chair. "And there’s been no more sign of fever?"
"No. Nurse has been checking every hour. Must have sweated it all out last night." Sam kept his fingers clasped over his stomach and smiled back. After working things out with Chris, he felt nothing could dampen his mood.
"Sam, Your DCI called me a little bit ago."
Almost nothing.
He was not going to panic.
"He thought we should have a little chat."
"Really?" Sam regulated his breathing and kept his eyes on Merrick. "About what?"
Merrick uncrossed his legs, shifted position and crossed them again. "I spoke to your other doctors. Jayne and Moyer. Physically they think you’ll be able to go home soon. Say you’ve made a remarkable recovery."
"That’s good." Sam felt the sweat collecting in his palms. Why couldn’t psychiatrists ever get to the point?
"You’d be on bed rest, of course, but at least you’d be home."
Sam didn’t like the way he emphasized "home." He didn’t like it at all.
"But before they discharge you they want to be assured of your mental state."
"Did they tell you that if it weren’t for them my mental state wouldn’t need any assurance?" Why did Gene call? Christ. What did he say?
"I know all about the problems with your medication Sam."
"Good." So there shouldn’t be any problems. Unless Gene...
"This is only standard procedure."
Sam had never hated those words more in his entire life. "Of course."
"Your DCI called me because..."
Oh god.
"...he thought someone with more experience than WDC Cartwright should handle your evaluation."
Okay. Not so bad, Sam figured, but is that all?
"Do you know why he’d ask me to do that?" Merrick leaned in ever so slightly. Sam thought he would make a good detective, at least when it came to interrogations, but Sam knew how interrogations worked, too. He had a great amount of experience with them.
"He was with me for most of the fever. I think I may have suffered some hallucinations during that time which caused him concern."
"What sort of hallucinations?"
"Don’t know really."
"Then how do you know they upset him?"
Interrogations were easier to handle when you were the one asking the questions. "I remember bits and pieces. Of the hallucinations. Of the past two days. It’s all a bit of a blur but some things do stand out in memory."
"What sort of things?"
"If this is going to be a long conversations I could use a glass of water. My throat’s still a bit dry."
"No worries then." Merrick stood and smoothed out his trousers. "Be right back."
Sam let out a long breath as the psychiatrist left the room. As his mind kept reeling over what Gene may or may not have told the man, Sam almost wished he stayed in the coma. Of course, depending on how he looked at it, he still was.
*
"So ‘is handcuffs just snapped liked that?" Ray asked, pretending to be surprised.
"Not the *hic* ‘cuffs. The-the, uh, oh, what’s the word. You know. *hic* The thing." DS Mackenzie mimed a pulling motion.
"Handle." Gene and Ray said in unison. Mackenzie snapped his fingers and pointed to them, smiling.
"That’s it. The cabinet handle. Bloody skinhead yanked it clean off when we weren’t *hic* lookin’." Mackenzie drained his glass and set it down. Gene refilled it. "You know how they are when they’re on drugs. Strong as oxes. *hic* Oxen."
"That how he got the gun off yeh?" Gene stared down at him.
"Weren’t my gun." He raised his glass. "Ta." Drank some more.
"Who’s was it then?" Ray prodded.
"Were..." Mackenzie trailed off, suddenly very serious as he stared into his glass. "Can’t say I remember."
"Course you do Mack. Always had a mind like a steel trap, you," Gene encouraged.
Mackenzie swirled the liquid in the glass. "Not...not my place to say."
"Weren’t no one’s fault," Ray lied convincingly. "Like you said. Those skinheads. Tough as nails. ‘Specially when they’re high. You probably couldn’t help it when he jumped yeh."
"Weren’t me gun," Mackenzie stated solemnly.
Gene followed Ray’s lead. "Carling’s right you know. No one’s blamin’ you. Were an accident really."
Mackenzie slammed down the glass. "It weren’t me!"
"Then who was it?" Ray asked calmly.
"I-I can’t."
"Come on, mate," Ray continued, not letting up. "Get it off your chest. Let us help."
"I’ve got some paperwork. I..."
Ray stepped closer. "It’s been eating away at yeh, hasn’t it? Gnawing at your guts. Accidental thing. But a copper went down. Everyone’s lookin’ at yeh funny. I’ve been there Sergeant. Summit like this happens to yeh on the job, even if you din’t mean it, no one ever looks at yeh the same. You try an’ hide it at first, but they find out. They always find out. An’ there’s nowt you can do ‘bout it. ‘Cept pick they way they find out." Ray placed his hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder. The old man was close to tears now. "Go on then."
"But he’s my DI!" He stood and shouted almost involuntarily. Mackenzie immediately realized what he had done and collapsed back into the chair, head in his hands.
"You best not be here when they get back," Gene said as he dropped his cigarette to the floor. They left the man the bottle and walked, in step, out of the office.
They waited quietly for the lift to arrive and when the doors opened Gene finally spoke. "You’ll make a good Inspector."
Ray didn’t answer as he followed his Guv into the lift.
*
The funny thing, Chris thought before he passed out on his kitchen floor, was that his stomach really did twinge a bit.
__________
Part 35
Author: dak
Word Count: 2078 this part; [61,700 overall]
Summary for Whole: After an accidental shooting at the station, Gene struggles to keep his team from tearing themselves apart.
Summary this Part: Sam and Chris talk. Gene and Ray do some digging.
Rating: still Blue-ish Cortina, uhm, what's slightly darker than blue?
Warnings: angst, swearing, violence, violent imagery, minor drug use, mild sexual situations, self-harm for whole
Spoilers: vague ref. to 1.07; see each chapter for specific spoiler warnings
Pairing: mild Sam/Annie, Sam/Maya
Disclaimer: Belongs to BBC/Kudos
A/N: And another part. Enjoy!
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42 Part 43 Part 44 Part 45 Part 46 Part 47 Part 48 Part 49 Part 50 Part 51 Part 52 Part 53 Part 54 Part 55 Part 56 Part 57 Part 58 Part 59 Part 60 Part 61 Part 62 Part 63 Part 64 Part 65 Part 66 Part 67 Part 68 Part 69 Part 70 Part 71 Part 72 Part 73 Part 74 Part 75 Part 76 Part 77 Part 78 Part 79 Part 80 Part 81 Part 82 Part 83 Part 84 Part 85 Part 86
Chris stood outside the room for ten minutes rubbing his stomach before finding the courage to tap on the door and enter. Once he’d seen the lights were off and Sam sleeping peacefully he ducked outside and waited another ten before the nurse convinced him that even though DI Tyler was sleeping he wanted to be woken as soon as someone arrived from the station. So Chris entered again, not bothering to knock. He winced as he flicked on the lights, the bright light harshly filling the stark room. Sam didn’t seen to notice though.
Chris padded across the floor and sat down in the plastic chair. "DI Tyler," he whispered. Sam continued to sleep. Chris scooted the chair forward, closer to the bed. "Uhm, Boss, sir?" Chris knew he was being too quiet but he was terrified of startling him. He inched the chair closer yet again then reached out and gently shook Sam by the elbow. "Boss?"
Chris had expected him to jump and lurch but instead Sam groggily blinked open his eyes and yawned. Chris saw Sam’s brain come to life as his eyes registered their surroundings.
"Chris?"
"Hiya Boss. Phyllis said you needed someone..."
Sam’s face lit up and he pushed himself into a sitting position. "Right. Yes. I asked the nurse...Must’ve dozed off." He noticed Chris’ apprehensiveness and wondered if the DC had been forced to do this or if he had come of his own accord. "I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been trying to work out the location of the kidnappers but I need someone with good researching skills to help me out."
"What you need me to look up?" Chris still wasn’t making eye contact but he hadn’t fled the room so Sam took this as a good sign.
"Can you wheel that table over for me?"
Chris obliged and Sam started sifting through the piles of paper that covered the table top.
"I’ve been making a list of questions that I think will help us pinpoint their whereabouts. Like how have they been getting money, food. Who haven’t we spoken to that might house them. That sort of thing. Ah. Here it is." Sam pulled one paper from the stack and handed it out to Chris. Chris wasn’t looking and didn’t notice the outstretched arm. "Chris?"
Chris glanced up, saw the paper and grabbed it. "Got it, Boss." Chris was glad he had the paper to read over now. It gave him an excuse not to look up.
"I’m glad you came Chris. You’re probably the only one who can read my handwriting." Sam smiled hoping Chris would too, but the younger man simply nodded. Sam knew they couldn’t go on like this any longer. "Chris."
"Yes Boss?"
"Look at me."
Not one to disobey a direct order, Chris slowly tilted his head upwards til his eyes met Sam’s.
"What’s wrong?" Sam asked seriously.
"N-nothing."
"Chris, if you’re not comfortable being around me..."
" ‘S not that Boss." Chris shook his head.
"What is it then?"
Chris heaved a heavy sigh and picked at the paper in his hands. "It’s just...’s my fault, innit?" He mumbled.
"Sorry?" Sam almost laughed.
" ‘S my fault you’re in ‘ere, innit?"
Sam crossed his arms, careful not to bump the IV. "And how do you work that one out Detective?"
"Well," Chris scratched behind his ear. "I was the one what got shot in the first place. An’ if that hadn’t happened you’d’ve never gone drinkin’ an’ got lost by the canal an’..."
"Chris." Sam held out his arm to stop him rambling. "Don’t take this the wrong way but that is the most ridiculous reasoning I’ve ever heard."
Chris wasn’t offended but relieved by Sam’s admission. "Really?"
"Your shooting was an accident. And even if it wasn’t, I was the prat who went off and got himself completely pissed at one in the afternoon."
"Did you just call yourself a prat sir?"
"Yes."
"Can I tell Ray?"
"Absolutely not."
Something lifted in the air and Sam felt better than he had in weeks. Better than he had this morning when Gene...
"So," Sam cut off his own train of thought. "You’ve got those questions then?"
"Yeah."
"I need a fully detailed report as soon as possible. It will probably mean a lot of time down in the collators..."
" ‘S alright Boss. Guv’ll have me back on desk duty anyhow. I’ll have plenty of time to sift through things down there." Chris stood up to leave.
"What do you mean back on desk duty?" Sam hated being out of the loop.
"Well Ray took me off it this mornin’ to help with a burglary. But I told Phyllis to tell the Guv me stomach hurt an’ I’d gone home so that I could really come over here."
"Why..." But then Sam knew exactly why. He rested his hand on his forehead. "Gene doesn’t want you helping me."
Chris shuffled his feet. "He din’t say as much but...he’s sorta been avoidin’ mentionin’ you an’ stuff."
" ‘S okay Chris. Don’t worry about it. Just don’t get sacked either, okay?"
"Will do," Chris smiled. "Well, will don’t."
Chris departed, his insides feeling much lighter than when he’d arrived, and left Sam just as Dr. Merrick reappeared outside the room.
*
"Where’ve you been?" Gene verbally assaulted Annie as she and Ray returned to CID.
"Door to doors," she said without hesitation.
Gene grunted, seemingly disappointed in the apparently correct answer. His eyes darted around the room. "Where’s Skelton?"
"Stomach ache. He went home to sleep it off." Annie answered again.
"Useless twat," Gene mumbled under his breath. "Right then. RCS have received an anonymous tip ‘bout some knocked off shooters gettin’ dumped in the canal. Litton an’ his men will be out there trawling the waters for a few hours. All except DS Mackenzie that is."
"Which one’s Mackenzie?" Ray asked.
"The poor old sod with a bad memory and a fondness for Glenlivet." Gene pulled a large bottle out of a paper bag and plopped it on an empty desk. "Thought Ray and I might go have a chat with the lonely bugger."
"Sounds good to me Guv," Ray nodded. He took the bottle and waited for Gene by the exit. Gene took his time lighting a cigarette, off-handedly speaking to Annie. "I expect copies of those door to doors on my desk by the time I get back." He shook out the match and dropped it to the floor.
"Yes Guv," Annie called as he left with Ray, then started to pull together everyone’s notes on this morning’s burglary.
*
"How was your lunch, Sam?"
"Not exactly gourmet but I did manage to keep it down."
"Good," Merrick smiled as he reclined in the chair. "And there’s been no more sign of fever?"
"No. Nurse has been checking every hour. Must have sweated it all out last night." Sam kept his fingers clasped over his stomach and smiled back. After working things out with Chris, he felt nothing could dampen his mood.
"Sam, Your DCI called me a little bit ago."
Almost nothing.
He was not going to panic.
"He thought we should have a little chat."
"Really?" Sam regulated his breathing and kept his eyes on Merrick. "About what?"
Merrick uncrossed his legs, shifted position and crossed them again. "I spoke to your other doctors. Jayne and Moyer. Physically they think you’ll be able to go home soon. Say you’ve made a remarkable recovery."
"That’s good." Sam felt the sweat collecting in his palms. Why couldn’t psychiatrists ever get to the point?
"You’d be on bed rest, of course, but at least you’d be home."
Sam didn’t like the way he emphasized "home." He didn’t like it at all.
"But before they discharge you they want to be assured of your mental state."
"Did they tell you that if it weren’t for them my mental state wouldn’t need any assurance?" Why did Gene call? Christ. What did he say?
"I know all about the problems with your medication Sam."
"Good." So there shouldn’t be any problems. Unless Gene...
"This is only standard procedure."
Sam had never hated those words more in his entire life. "Of course."
"Your DCI called me because..."
Oh god.
"...he thought someone with more experience than WDC Cartwright should handle your evaluation."
Okay. Not so bad, Sam figured, but is that all?
"Do you know why he’d ask me to do that?" Merrick leaned in ever so slightly. Sam thought he would make a good detective, at least when it came to interrogations, but Sam knew how interrogations worked, too. He had a great amount of experience with them.
"He was with me for most of the fever. I think I may have suffered some hallucinations during that time which caused him concern."
"What sort of hallucinations?"
"Don’t know really."
"Then how do you know they upset him?"
Interrogations were easier to handle when you were the one asking the questions. "I remember bits and pieces. Of the hallucinations. Of the past two days. It’s all a bit of a blur but some things do stand out in memory."
"What sort of things?"
"If this is going to be a long conversations I could use a glass of water. My throat’s still a bit dry."
"No worries then." Merrick stood and smoothed out his trousers. "Be right back."
Sam let out a long breath as the psychiatrist left the room. As his mind kept reeling over what Gene may or may not have told the man, Sam almost wished he stayed in the coma. Of course, depending on how he looked at it, he still was.
*
"So ‘is handcuffs just snapped liked that?" Ray asked, pretending to be surprised.
"Not the *hic* ‘cuffs. The-the, uh, oh, what’s the word. You know. *hic* The thing." DS Mackenzie mimed a pulling motion.
"Handle." Gene and Ray said in unison. Mackenzie snapped his fingers and pointed to them, smiling.
"That’s it. The cabinet handle. Bloody skinhead yanked it clean off when we weren’t *hic* lookin’." Mackenzie drained his glass and set it down. Gene refilled it. "You know how they are when they’re on drugs. Strong as oxes. *hic* Oxen."
"That how he got the gun off yeh?" Gene stared down at him.
"Weren’t my gun." He raised his glass. "Ta." Drank some more.
"Who’s was it then?" Ray prodded.
"Were..." Mackenzie trailed off, suddenly very serious as he stared into his glass. "Can’t say I remember."
"Course you do Mack. Always had a mind like a steel trap, you," Gene encouraged.
Mackenzie swirled the liquid in the glass. "Not...not my place to say."
"Weren’t no one’s fault," Ray lied convincingly. "Like you said. Those skinheads. Tough as nails. ‘Specially when they’re high. You probably couldn’t help it when he jumped yeh."
"Weren’t me gun," Mackenzie stated solemnly.
Gene followed Ray’s lead. "Carling’s right you know. No one’s blamin’ you. Were an accident really."
Mackenzie slammed down the glass. "It weren’t me!"
"Then who was it?" Ray asked calmly.
"I-I can’t."
"Come on, mate," Ray continued, not letting up. "Get it off your chest. Let us help."
"I’ve got some paperwork. I..."
Ray stepped closer. "It’s been eating away at yeh, hasn’t it? Gnawing at your guts. Accidental thing. But a copper went down. Everyone’s lookin’ at yeh funny. I’ve been there Sergeant. Summit like this happens to yeh on the job, even if you din’t mean it, no one ever looks at yeh the same. You try an’ hide it at first, but they find out. They always find out. An’ there’s nowt you can do ‘bout it. ‘Cept pick they way they find out." Ray placed his hand on Mackenzie’s shoulder. The old man was close to tears now. "Go on then."
"But he’s my DI!" He stood and shouted almost involuntarily. Mackenzie immediately realized what he had done and collapsed back into the chair, head in his hands.
"You best not be here when they get back," Gene said as he dropped his cigarette to the floor. They left the man the bottle and walked, in step, out of the office.
They waited quietly for the lift to arrive and when the doors opened Gene finally spoke. "You’ll make a good Inspector."
Ray didn’t answer as he followed his Guv into the lift.
*
The funny thing, Chris thought before he passed out on his kitchen floor, was that his stomach really did twinge a bit.
__________
Part 35