‘Talk to you?’ she said. ‘Ben, we’re different people, you and me. You have support from your family, you’ve been surrounded by it all your life. I’m sure that’s lovely and warm and fuzzy, and all that. But some of us have grown up without the need for support. We’re strong enough to look after ourselves. So your concern isn’t necessary.’

‘You know, if we’re going to get a forced shake-up in this department, we should stick together.’

‘Are you the shop steward all of a sudden, Ben? I didn’t even know we’d got a trade union.’

‘I’m not suggesting we work to rule or anything. Just – you know, support each other.’

Fry hissed, a sound low enough that no one else in the office would hear it, but piercing enough for Cooper to get the message loud and clear.

‘Ben, I don’t need your support, OK? I’ll be just fine. Go and give your support to someone else.’

‘Think you’ll get support from Superintendent Branagh? It would be like Dracula becoming a vegetarian.’

Fry stood up and began to stack the files back together.

‘I’ll do that, if you like,’ said Cooper.

‘I can do it myself.’

She grabbed her phone off the desk, flicking it open as if to check whether she had any messages, though they both knew it would have rung if she had. He was perfectly familiar with her ring tone. No downloaded pop tunes for Fry, just a few unobtrusive electronic notes like something from the opening of The X Files. Nothing to upset a bereaved relative.

In fact, a strange silence had descended on the CID room. Cooper turned, and saw Detective Superintendent Branagh standing in the doorway. She said nothing, but looked at Fry and raised one eyebrow.

‘Coming, ma’am,’ said Fry.

She went almost eagerly, and Cooper began to wonder whether he was completely wrong, and everyone else was wrong too, about Fry going through a bad time. Maybe it was something else entirely. Perhaps it was quite the opposite.

Before they left, Cooper looked at Superintendent Branagh again. Who would want to hitch their wagon to that kind of horse?

Chapter Twenty-nine

‘SO,’ SAID BRANAGH when Fry had settled in a chair in her office. ‘DS Fry, do you think you have the full support of your team?’

Fry felt herself grow tense. She’d tried to prepare herself before she came into the superintendent’s office, but this wasn’t the question she’d been expecting. Branagh might look like a bruiser, but this was surely fighting dirty.

‘Has someone said –’

Branagh shook her head. ‘Whatever discussions might have gone on with other members of staff, they’re confidential. Just as our discussion is this afternoon.’

‘Of course.’

‘DS Fry, I know you came here after a distressing incident in Birmingham, when you were with the West Midlands force.’

Fry swallowed. ‘Yes, ma’am.’