Fifty Two Weeks of Murder Read Free Page B

but couldn’t disguise the fact that it was as far away from the Met officers as possible.
    To the right of the entrance lay two offices, separated from the room by glass partitioning. In the middle of the hub, several desks were spread out, one of which was piled high with computer monitors connected like a web and a stack of magazines and junk. Anders guessed that to be Jesse’s station. The other tables were bare and unclaimed. At the back and to the left, several corridors ran off to different areas. Anders had studied the plans and knew that the two at the rear led to firearms and training and the other to the forensics suite. The ones immediately to her left linked to the holding cells and interrogation rooms. The entire structure was steel and concrete. Functional and nothing else. One wall was for posting evidence, ideas and chronology and it was currently bare.
    “Mal!” called Jesse. “We have our latest recruit!” A head popped out from the office closest to the entrance and gave them both a big grin. It disappeared briefly and there was a whispered conversation before Mal stepped out. He was tall and filled the doorway, his rolled up sleeves showing thick knots of muscle attached to large hands designed for the more practical application of police work. Despite his fearsome build, his broad face was open and kind, with a beard that was peppered with flecks of grey. His voice, when he spoke, was suffused with the lilting tones of the Welsh Valleys. His eyes were sharp and piercing and Anders saw a core of steel within them.
    “Welcome,” he said as he shook her hand in a meaty fist. “I’m delighted to meet you. I’m sure Jesse…”
    “…Crackers…” Mal gave him a weary look and turned back to Anders.
    “…has given you the lowdown of the team.” Anders smiled as she allowed herself to be guided into the office closest to them. Jesse took the opportunity to get to his desk and start work.
    “He’s told me of his conquests since he returned to London and then regaled me with his thesis on the evils of stairs, but that’s pretty much it.” Mal chuckled as they entered the office. It was decorated with warmth and care. There were throws on comfy sofas, rugs on the floor and bright paintings hung on walls. Behind a small desk sat an elegant and well-groomed woman who looked to be in her early forties, but was most likely older. She had taken care of herself and took pride in both her appearance and her work. She gave a warm smile to Anders as she entered and stood to greet her. She was much shorter than she looked and Anders towered over her, despite not being that tall herself.
    “You must be Assistant Chief Constable Anders,” she said, clasping Anders’ hands in her own. She was well spoken, her inflection laced with wealth and class.
    “Just Anders please ma’am.”
    “Anders it is,” she replied. “I’m Abigail Philips. I’ll be helping you with your investigations. I’m a…”
    “Psychiatrist ma’am. I studied your work at Quantico. Your research into child abuse helped me to build several profiles during my time there.” Abigail chuckled modestly and glanced slyly at Mal.
    “I like this one. She can stay,” she declared before giving Anders’ hand one more squeeze and returning to her desk. She glanced up as they made to leave. “I’m told you like coffee. There’s always a mug and a chat here.” Anders nodded her thanks as Mal ushered her out of the room.
    “Sharp as an axe that one,” he muttered fondly as he gave Anders the tour of the station. They were clearly old friends. As Mal showed Anders her new workspace, he spoke rapidly of the project they were undertaking. His enthusiasm was infectious and Anders found herself excited to be at the spearhead of this undertaking. Only Jesse, Abigail and Mal were there, but the hour was early and Anders had wished to arrive before everyone else. Mal’s crumpled jeans, flannel shirt and dishevelled look spoke of someone