‘She’s not the only one. You’ve already got a bit of a name for – how do they put it? – not being a team player. Personally, I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad thing, but not everyone agrees with me. You go another step down that road, and plenty of people won’t want to know you. And believe me, pal: arresting a cop’s kid does not count as being a team player. You do that, you can wave bye-bye to your shot at Murder or Undercover. For good.’

He wasn’t bothering to be subtle about it. I said, ‘Only if I’m wrong.’

‘You think?’

‘Yeah. I do. We solve this, and I’m at the top of the queue for Murder. Everyone might hate my guts, but I’ll get my shot.’

‘At working there, maybe. For a little while. Not at being one of them.’

Mackey watching me. He’s good, Mackey; he’s the finest. Finger straight on the bruise, pressing just hard enough.

I said, ‘I’ll settle for working there. I’ve got enough buddies to last me.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Well,’ Mackey said. He shot his cuff, checked his watch. ‘Better not keep Detective Conway waiting any longer. She’s not too happy about you coming out for private chats with me.’

‘She’s grand.’

‘Come here,’ Mackey said. Beckoned. Waited.

In the end I moved in.

He cupped a hand round the back of my neck. Gentle. Intent blue eyes, inches from mine. ‘If you’re right,’ he said – no threat there, not scaring me, just telling me – ‘I’m going to kill you.’

He gave the back of my head a double pat. Smiled. Moved off, into the high-arched dark of the hall.

That was when I realised: Mackey thought all of this was his fault. He thought he had put today in Holly’s blood. Mackey thought I was right.

Chapter 22

Chapter 22

Monday morning, early, the bus grinding through traffic in stops and starts. Chris Harper has three weeks and less than four days left to live.