The Devil Among Us Ramsay Sinclair (librera reader .TXT) 📖

Like somebody chose the worst three people at random with a criminal background and sent them out here.” I tried hard to avoid staring at the blood and focus on the drugs instead.

“I know what you mean.” McCall shifted her weight to the back foot and folded her arms. “I never would have imagined Flynn getting involved in drugs. Especially not after we gave him a second chance. Robin and Sam, maybe, but Flynn? Never.”

“That’s what you get for being nice. Damned if we are, damned if we aren't. Just shows, doesn’t it? We let criminals go and they’ll do it all over again. Prison isn’t a threat anymore, there are too many rules. We’ve gone too soft. They walk all over us,” DCI Reid complained, shifting through even more piles of money. “If only there was a way to keep up with the times, but bring back the old method of policing. The days where we used to frighten the bad guys and were appreciated by the good. Now, we’re hated by most.”

He had a point.

“I don’t know, Guv,” DC Taylor rose to McCall’s aid. “You weren’t here when we dealt with Flynn. He was comically awful.”

Flynn Jones was like a cartoon character, where the pop-up subtitles flash up with ‘bang’ or ‘crash’. He’d fall over his own feet and slip over banana skins if there were any left on the floor.

Cillian got involved too, his brown suit rumpled and hair barely brushed. He could be essentially harmless but a bit gormless. “I’ve still got staple holes on my desk, from when he stapled his slacks to the top.”

We shared a bit of a chuckle at the memory.

“We can’t deny what we saw with our own eyes.” DCI Reid shrugged, placing all the money back as we found it. “The van’s probably stolen, they usually are with these kinds of jobs.”

“That’s true. You’ve dealt with more of these things than we.” I cleared my throat. “Whatever you say.”

DCI Reid had transferred to our station as the replacement. We’d heard all positive things about the man before he joined, for DCI Reid was a very respected superior in the force. He was well known for charity work, very giving in that manner. He was shrewd, professional, and as efficient as the case allowed.

“We’ll start searching for any stolen reports and look into the number plate when we get back to the station, if that would be useful?” DC Taylor suggested, gnawing on his thumbnail. All of us were turning pink from the underlying chill in the air.

“Yep. That’s the best start.” Reid yawned and displayed a spectacular amount of chins, for our early starts knackered us all.

A journalist broke free from the crowd and ran towards us, ready to question us until the cows came home. Thankfully, the PCs on crowd control noticed and stopped the crazed lady from going much further.

“Anyone would think we’re a band or something,” McCall said dryly, a dusting of freckles beginning to appear on her sloped nose.

“Apart from the fact none of us can sing, play an instrument, and we’re not exactly desirable,” I quipped, squinting in the brightness.

“Huh. We’re already halfway there then,” she grinned, displaying a smile full of teeth and gums.

“They’re crazy,” DCI Reid shook his significantly larger head at the gaggle of pen pushers. “We’ll get mobbed and stampeded if we’re not careful.” One bushy eyebrow raised towards them. “I’ll call forensics to the station to take their swabs. It’ll be easier than having them fight through this crowd of groupies.” He joined in with our light humour.

Stalking to the front of the drug-laden van, DCI Reid opened its front doors to reach in and gather a set of keys still stuck in the ignition.

“You, DC Taylor.” Reid threw the keys into the air, and Taylor only just caught them. “You’re in charge of driving this rust bucket to the station yard.” DCI Reid banged against the van, making enough vibrations for a wing mirror to fall off. “My point exactly.”

“Guv,” DC Taylor confirmed.

DCI Reid plodded away, over to his own work vehicle. “Be careful. If word has gotten out that we’re in possession of these, who knows what worms will crawl out of the woodwork? There could be all sorts out there waiting for a load of these.”

“Yeah. Watch out for the old ladies with their handbags, John. I head they’re rabid,” Cillian snorted, earning a light swat around the arm from McCall.

Even though they didn’t flaunt their relationship at work, DC Taylor and McCall stood up for each other in the smallest of ways. Adorable really, even if it made us all a bit nauseous. Since getting a girlfriend of my own, I’d softened towards all that lovey-dovey stuff.

“We’ll drive in convoy to keep a lookout for you,” DCI Reid continued, ignoring Cillian on purpose. “Agreed?”

We murmured yes, splitting up to take care of our individual tasks. McCall barely ever went anywhere without me, we were partners after all. Of the work kind, anyway. Unfortunately for our late arrival, we’d parked past the crowds, which meant we’d have to brave it and/or make a run for it.

“Ready?” I checked before heading off that McCall had steadied her nerves to brave the shark tank.

“Always,” she said bravely as I rustled deep in a pocket to find the pair of aviator glasses I’d left there. The camera flashes alone would be enough to disorientate and blind anyone.

“Where--?” I started and turned to ask McCall if she’d seen them.

I didn’t need to, for I saw they were already on her face. They swamped her minuscule features, far too big.

“Give them here. Now,” I commanded sternly, unimpressed at her dubious antics. Would she ever stop purposely winding me up?

“But I look better in them than you.”

3

The station car park was inundated with more cars than we were used to. We’d had the decorators in, to give the station a spruce up here and a lick of paint there. At last, we’d