Cradle to Grave Read Online Free PDF Page B

the wheels of the jeep as he drove the mile and a bit from the bridge down the other side of the river to connect with the road running along the shore of the Solway Firth – the road to nowhere, which finished at the Rosscarron Cottages. Near its mouth, the river had overflowed its banks, but it was much worse on the far side, where the smart houses with their sea views were awash, the cars parked outside engulfed in water and mud. They’d have to shell out a fine premium for their insurance next year! But then, they could afford it, jammy beggars.
    From here, it was less than a mile or so to the cottages and his foot unconsciously slackened on the accelerator. There was no telling what he’d find: people distressed, injured, dead, even. He’d had experience of that serving with the army, but at least there you always had back-up. He kept glancing in the rear-view mirror, hoping to see Crozier’s huge black Discovery, but the road behind him remained obstinately empty.
    Buchan turned a corner into the short straight before the cottages and found himself suddenly feet away from a wall of earth, rocks and rubble. He swore, slamming on his brakes, and brought the jeep to a shuddering standstill, its nose into soft earth.
    His first thought was to back up and inspect the damage, mercifully slight, his second to go back and warn his boss before the Discovery came barrelling into the back of his jeep – Crozier was famous for his lack of respect for local road conditions.
    The landslip was blocking the road and the foreshore, right down into the sea. He listened, but all he could hear was the sound of the waves and the steady hissing of the rain, not voices or screams or anything. A good sign or a bad sign? He wasn’t sure, but anyway, here was the boss now. He flagged him down, pleased that the responsibility for dealing with this was his no longer.
     
    ‘Welcome back, ma’am!’
    When DI Fleming arrived for the morning briefing, DS Andy Macdonald came forward to shake her hand and there was a smattering of applause.
    Fleming coloured. It was kind of him, but it made the moment of getting back to business as usual more difficult. ‘Thanks. Glad you’re pleased to see me,’ she said, then went on briskly, ‘I only hope the mood lasts once I’ve finished tasking you.’
    She went through a list of reports she wanted and the priorities for the day, then, after the meeting, dealt with individual queries. Perhaps she was being oversensitive in noticing that Tam MacNee had positioned himself on the outer edge of the group, but she worked her way towards him anyway.
    ‘Tam! Good to see you.’
    He took her outstretched hand, not quite meeting her eyes. ‘Boss.’
    ‘How’s Bunty?’ she persisted. ‘Haven’t seen her for a while.’
    His eyes flickered as she mentioned his wife. Then he said flatly, ‘She’s fine.’
    Fleming nodded and turned away, feeling chilled. A woman she didn’t recognise was standing patiently, waiting to speak to her – Tansy Kerr’s replacement, presumably. She came forward as Fleming looked towards her.
    ‘DC Kim Kershaw, ma’am.’
    Fleming looked at her appraisingly. Neat, competent-looking, smartly dressed in neutrals – quite a change from Tansy Kerr, whose style had been adventurous, to say the very least. She realised that she herself was being given a similarly cool, measuring look. Interesting. She smiled.
    ‘Are you fairly new here?’ How she hated needing to ask that question!
    ‘A month, ma’am. I’ve been in the CID for a couple of weeks now, so I’m still finding my feet. I was a detective in Glasgow before, but I asked for a transfer.’
    She didn’t have a Glasgow accent – east coast, from the sound of it – but Fleming said lightly, ‘You and DS MacNee will have a lot in common, then.’
    There was a fractional pause, before Kershaw said, ‘Absolutely,’ with such total lack of emphasis that she might just as well have said, ‘You have to be