Still, what was done was done.

Wendy sighed, her train of thought idly wandering onto other things, such as the importance of having a good friend by her side, especially over the next few months. And with that notion in mind, she suddenly remembered Bailey with a mild perk of interest. Wendy wondered what she was up to these days. She’d seemed like such a nice person. A great person to chat to. Such a good listener…

87

Bailey sat on the sofa in the living room of her Crystal Palace flat and watched as the sudden rainstorm hit, the droplets spattering down on the concrete of the tiny patio outside the window of her basement abode. It had been clear and sunny just a minute ago and now it was raining hard. But then it was the middle of April and the weather could be so changeable during this time of year… a bit like her mood at the moment.

The funeral service for Dennis Morgan had taken place at Beckenham Crematorium two days earlier. His passing had come fairly quickly in the end, and both Bailey and her mother had been present at his bedside when the light had finally gone out of his eyes. Since his ‘vision’ of Jennifer, he’d been strangely at peace, for not once since then had he mentioned either her or Mister Snigiss again, and Bailey had the reassuring feeling that it was this experience as much as the painkillers that had helped to ease his passing.

All the same, she felt a profound sadness at her father’s death which touched the very depths of her soul. One moment she’d be feeling normal and the next she’d be gripped by unbearable pangs of grief. It was a painful process, but one which she knew she had to go through if she was to eventually heal and get over it. On the positive side, it was bringing her closer than ever to her mother as Bailey helped her to sort out her husband’s affairs.

Despite all this, Bailey was still considerably occupied on the work front. The week before, she’d attended yet another meeting with the Directorate of Professional Standards to provide more evidence on Dale’s corruption. The internal enquiry into the extent of his activities was going to open up a lot of uncomfortable questions, but either way, Bailey was determined to see that he got the posthumous disgrace that he deserved.

And as for Rick Molloy, she’d soon be testifying against him in his upcoming trial, from a position of confidentiality, of course, as an undercover police officer. With the work she’d done to get him captured, it looked certain that Rick would be convicted of the crimes for which he’d been charged. The lawyers from the Crown Prosecution Service were already discussing the likelihood of a thirty-year sentence. Frank would be most pleased about that.

Bailey had been visiting Frank regularly in the hospital since he’d been shot and was both delighted and immensely grateful to see that he was making a slow but steady recovery from his injuries. But it would be a while yet before he was in any state to return to work.