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

Exciting times.

Although it sounded sarcastic, we were genuinely pleased. I guess being stuck inside most days had us in a frenzy.

“They better not have scratched my car,” McCall warned, keeping a beady eye out as we drove around searching for parking spaces. They were in short supply, due to there being decorating vans, police vehicles and our evidence here at once. Forensics must’ve arrived just before us, for they were all clambering out and over to DCI Reid.

“There’s a space there,” she perked up, pointing to a very narrow gap. Just in front of the gap, was a flowerbed some primary school children had planted as a community project. There were vivid daffodils in yellow, perfect for spring and spruced up the drab station perfectly. The community had loved them, and they were a focal point to the people now.

My wheels were a challenge to keep straight but slowly did the trick. Eventually, we were parked straight. That was until McCall burst out cackling loudly at one of the decorators tripping up the station steps and spilling a paint pot clumsily. I nudged the accelerator ever so slightly and overstepped into the flowerbed by mere inches. The tyres clipped a few daffodils and left them standing at ninety-degree angles, with muddy trough marks from the wheels making a visible dent in the otherwise perfect display.

“The Guv’s going to kill us if he sees this,” I hissed, mortified. The kids would be upset too. McCall couldn’t keep a straight face, finding the entire thing a little bit funny.

“Sorry,” she apologised in mirth. “We’ll pretend we know nothing about this. If we deny it, nobody will know any different.”

“Except pretty much everyone saw,” I pointed to the windows, where a few of the forensic team were frowning in displeasure. DCI Reid chose to turn away from the sight.

“Accidents happen,” McCall tried to help as we unclipped our seatbelts. “Worse things have happened today. They’ll forget about it in a heartbeat.”

I hoped she was right.

DC Taylor had arrived in one piece, as had the van. Pretty much... minus one wing mirror. The forensic scientists were taking swabs to provide evidence in court that the police were justified in taking action against these guys. McCall watched forensics getting on with their jobs, fascinated by all the technical parts we didn’t take much part in.

“What did the flowerbeds ever do to you, Cooper?” DCI Reid mentioned when I passed. I knew it would be brought to my attention at every opportunity.

“An honest mistake, Sir.” I huffed, hearing the McCall laugh quietly.

“Well, if you’ve quite finished ruining the station. I’d like you and DS McCall to debrief the others who stayed behind. I want us to trace where these supplies are coming from. If we know where, maybe it’ll help us to stop this… callous chain of events,” he explained, aged lines and crow's feet decorating his eyes.

“On it right away,” we agreed, more than ready to knuckle down. We were invested in this case.

“Hang on,” he held us back. “The new recruit can stick to the smaller files. Five of us, plus me working on this is more than enough. We need people working on other things too so that every base is covered. We don’t want the locals getting restless because their break-ins aren’t being looked into further.”

It would be sucky for Rebecca to hear, seen as the bigger cases were always perceived as the exciting ones. However, DCI Reid was right. We’d all been in the same boat when we were new. It’s just the way things went.

“Sir,” I nodded.

“Thanks, Cooper. I can always rely on you to get the job done,” he complimented, and I tried hard to stop myself from going red. Someone called his name, distracting us from the interaction. “Excuse me. See you in a bit.”

“No worries.” I sprinted to join McCall, who had already disappeared into the front reception area. Locals waited around for appointments, or to raise complaints and the phones rang off the hook. Officers organised cell numbers, and decorators milled around, paint fumes filling our noses. The front desk sergeants would get high off the fumes if they stood here for hours on end.

Mentioning the front desk sergeants, our usual wasn’t here. Skipper wasn’t the sort of lady to take days off. She prided herself on working hard. Perhaps she’d finally come to her senses and taken the time off to relax.

“Would you like tea or coffee, sir? Would you like a back massage whilst I’m at it, sir? Or how about a foot rub?” McCall mimicked me, earning a light nudge in the ribs. “You’re clearly the favourite.”

“I’m not!” My voice went high pitched, so I coughed. “He’s good at his job, and I respect him, that’s all. It’s mutual.”

“I respect him too,” McCall reminded me, expressively waving her arms around. She could become erratic when she spoke without entirely meaning to. “But I do think his ways are a bit old fashioned.”

“Campbell was worse. I think DCI Reid wishes the old ways of policing were here, that’s all. He’s nostalgic, I suppose. Aren’t we all in our own way?”

“You’re right. In this circumstance, I didn't mean it all the time before you get big-headed,” McCall clarified, shoes squeaking with each step we took. A horrible drilling sound filled the station as the decorators hung brand new photographs and various achievements of ours on the walls.

“He’s done so much for our image here. Boasted us up, so to speak. I like to think the team has bonded, that we’re pretty tight-knit these days,” I admitted, glad that I didn’t feel so out of place as a DI anymore. Before, things were disjointed, and nobody could agree on which direction to take when it came to a case. Nowadays, we had differences but learned to compromise.

“I agree,” she said heartily. “Although sometimes, he’s a bit--”

“A bit what?” I cut her off. “Loud? Bossy? Because