“No, I’ll do it.”
“It’s customary for the senior officer to take the lead when disciplining—”
“Yes, I know and I understand why that’s the case, but I need to know what he’s leaked and to whom. I think I’ve got more chance of getting that if I tackle him alone.”
Whittaker eyeballed her.
“Do you have some special kind of pull on him?”
“No, but he respects me,” Helen said quickly. “He knows I don’t bullshit and that if I offer him a deal it’ll be genuine and offered in good faith.”
Whittaker seemed appeased by that. So Helen departed. She’d never been so glad to get out of his office. Then again, that was the easy bit. The hard part would be facing Mark.
Helen climbed into her car and pulled the door shut behind her. For a moment, the sound of the world, with all its cares, was muffled. A moment’s peace from a world that kept raining stones on her. Why had she allowed Mark to get so close to her? Why had she chosen him as her sounding board when he was obviously leaking every last detail of her investigation? She winced as she remembered their chats in the pub, in the incident room, rehearsing theories, considering suspects. Who knew? Perhaps there was some hideous caricature of her—the bumbling, ineffectual copper—already taking shape in Mickery’s book. A brilliant phantom of a killer, pursued haplessly by ignorant cops.
Helen cried out in pain and looked down to see her fingernails dug into her palm. She had drawn blood in her frustration and anger. Cursing her stupidity, she tried to regain her focus. Now was not the time to be distracted by what might be. No point fighting imaginary battles. She’d done enough of that in the past. Now it was time to be calm, strong and decisive. Now was the time to act.
65
His first feeling was one of relief. Mark had been trying to get hold of Helen all day to tell her about the developments about Martina, without success. Now here she was, leaning against his front door. Satisfaction surged to something more—hope? excitement?—as she had come back to himhere, rather than collaring him in the office. Perhaps she liked to be mysterious, hot and cold, hard to handle. But something in her expression told him this was not the case.
She said nothing as he opened the door and let her in. There was nothing for it but to play ball. See how bad things really were. So he pulled up a chair and sat down to face her. Who was going to make the first move?
“This may be the last time we meet like this. We have been friends and more, so let’s not scream or shout or accuse or lie or make this any more painful than it has to be.”
As she spoke, Helen watched Mark closely, beadily, alive to his reaction.
“You’ve betrayed us, Mark. There’s no other way of saying it. You’ve betrayed me, the team and the police force that made you what you are. Worse than that, you’ve betrayed the innocent men and women who’ve been murdered by this evil little—”
“I don’t understand—”
“I’ve spoken to Whittaker,” Helen interrupted, “so there’s no point trying to lie your way out of it. We are about to begin an official procedure that will in all probability end in your expulsion from the police force. Your desk has been cleared, you won’t be allowed access to any restricted areas and I am required to retain your badge once this discussion is over.”
Mark stared at her.
“You’ve seen others go through it—you know how nasty it can be. But you can make it easy on yourself, Mark. I don’t think you’re evil. I don’t think you’re rotten inside and I’m sure there must be reasons—good reasons—why you would do something so awful. If you are prepared to tell me those reasons fully and cooperate in every way I ask, then there is a deal to be done here. You don’t need to come out of this with nothing.”
A long silence, then:
“Why here?”
Mark’s response took Helen by surprise. No passionate denial, just a move in the game. It was said with real bitterness, but there was something else going on here. What was his angle?
“Why come here to tell me... this?” The last word was spat out. A challenge. Helen eyed him up and then responded:
“Because I want to hear it for myself before anyone else does. I want you to tell me why you did it before you have to say it on tape. I wantyouto tellme.”
Her voice suddenly caught with emotion—her real sense of personal betrayal finally punching through. Mark just stared at her. He looked confounded, as if she were speaking Greek.
“What do you think I’ve done, Helen?” His tone was neutral, but it sounded mocking.
“Don’t do this, Mark. Even now, you’re better than this.”
“Tell me. Tell me what I’ve done.”
Helen’s face hardened as her anger returned. Why had she ever allowed this arrogant bastard to get close to her?
“You gave Mickery our investigation. You sold us out.”
