A Dark Redemption Read Online Free PDF Page B

finally put in a formal complaint. She’d begun thinking of other jobs, what she would do, the naked horror of being flung back into the world.
    One of the phones rang, breaking the silence, but Branch didn’t even glance down at it. ‘This is one of those cases that has the potential of turning into a major fucking headache.’ He leant forward across the desk and a stray bit of tobacco caught onto his blazer cuff and hung there like an ornament. ‘She was African. A student. You remember the murder of the two French students a couple of years ago? Young, good-looking foreign students being tortured to death in their London flats is the last thing we fucking need on the front page of the Standard . We’ve got to keep this small and close. No press releases, no blazing blue-light entrances. You understand?’
    She didn’t know where he was going with this, what it had to do with her, but at least he wasn’t dipping into a file with her name scrawled in red on it, pulling out a form waiting only for her signature.
    ‘It’s DI Carrigan’s case. You know him?’
    ‘I’ve heard of him,’ she replied neutrally.
    Branch nodded, his eyes glistening behind his round-framed glasses. He put his fists together in a gesture almost akin to praying and she noticed the scuffed knuckles, bulbous and round like the skulls of midgets. ‘Yes, I dare say most detectives working out of West London have. Something of an office legend, our Carrigan. Takes files home with him and studies them at night. Cases that aren’t his. Thinks he’ll work out what other men couldn’t. You can see how that would not endear him to his peers,’ Branch darkly confided, ‘but if it was just that . . .’ He pressed something on one of the phones and a red light started blinking. Geneva noticed that his fingers were scored with tiny white lines as if they’d been tied up. He leant forward, his shadow stretching across the table towards her. ‘Frankly, Detective Miller, I’m worried about him being in charge of this case. I don’t know how he got to the scene first, how he always manages to get to the scene first, but I would have been much happier if a DI with a little more discretion was in charge.’
    Was he insinuating something? Geneva stared at Branch, trying to gauge the tenor of his comments, but either she was too hungover or she just wasn’t good at reading faces. Instead, she flashed Branch her favourite smile. The smile she liked to give men in bars. It seemed to work; the super was momentarily flustered, resorting to shuffling papers and clearing his throat. ‘This is all between you and me, not your DI, not your husband . . . understand?’
    Her skin flushed hot and itchy at the mention of Oliver. Her heart double-timed as she finally understood she wasn’t here to be fired.
    ‘Carrigan’s been getting sloppy. His cases have begun overlapping and his reports don’t make any sense. He keeps photos of all the murder victims he’s investigated at his house. At first we humoured him, what with what happened and all, but recently he’s been getting worse, more secretive. He’s never been one of us. Never wanted to. His main concern isn’t going to be keeping this out of the press.’
    ‘I thought our main concern was to catch the killer.’ It tumbled out before she could shut her mouth. She bit the insides of her cheeks until it hurt.
    ‘Yes, of course, but don’t act so gauche, Detective. You know as well as I do that keeping this out of the public eye will greatly enhance our chances of catching whoever did this.’ He looked up at the wall, lost in silent thought. Photos of boxers lined the perimeter of the room. Bloody and sweat-soaked, caught in a flash of action, their faces grimaced into scowls that made them look like dying dogs. Each of the photos had been signed and dedicated to Branch. ‘I’m going to second you to Carrigan’s team as DS,’ he continued. ‘I want you to work closely with him on